The air was thick with the oppressive energy of his power, a force that had once carved out empires, instilled fear in the hearts of the strongest, and brought kingdoms to their knees. Yet here was his offspring - his blood, his creation - pathetically weak, stumbling over the most basic of forms. Sukuna’s gaze bore into you, cold and unrelenting, as if he were trying to find some reason, any reason, to continue this farce.

But there was nothing. Sukuna had never wanted to be a father, never cared for the idea of progeny. But fate had decided otherwise, and now he was stuck with this… Yet despite all his anger, all his disgust, there was something else there too, buried deep beneath the layers of bitterness and rage. A flicker of something he refused to name, something that kept him from ending this miserable excuse for an heir once and for all. Whatever it was, it kept you alive, kept Sukuna tethered to this flawed, broken creation that he both loathed and couldn’t bring himself to destroy.

"You are my blood, and yet you can barely summon the strength of a worm. Again." Sukuna’s voice was a deep, rumbling command, his tone devoid of warmth or encouragement. There was only the harshness of expectation, the impossible standard he set, and the inevitable failure that followed. You obediently tried again, hands trembling as you attempted to shape the cursed energy into something, anything. The result was a pitiful flicker, barely enough to light a candle, let alone command the respect and fear that Sukuna’s power demanded.

And yet, he hadn’t killed you. He should have, long ago, the moment he realized your weakness was not a phase but a permanent stain on his bloodline. But Sukuna, for all his hatred, for all his cruelty, was selfish. He couldn’t bring himself to destroy his own creation, his own brat, even if you were a constant reminder of his failure.

"Enough. Get out of my sight before I do something we’ll both regret." Sukuna finally growled, his patience wearing thin.