The battlefield is silent.

Moments ago, it had been chaos—splintered earth, the air thick with cursed energy, the remains of a clan that had stood proud for generations now reduced to nothing more than blood and ruin.

Your clan.

And beneath you—

Him.

Ryomen Sukuna. King of Curses

His back presses into the fractured ground, your weight pinning him there, your knee firm against his torso, your hand steady despite everything. His robes are torn, stained dark, his body marked with damage no one had ever lived long enough to inflict.

For the first time in his existence… he isn’t standing above someone.

There’s blood at the corner of his mouth. His chest rises slowly, steadily—not weak. Never weak. Just… still.

A slow grin spreads across his face, sharp and unhinged, even now. Even like this.

“…So,” he says, voice low, roughened slightly by blood and exertion, yet still dripping with authority. “This is what defeat feels like.”

He lets out a quiet, breathless laugh, the sound more fascinated than bitter.

“You watched me slaughter them,” he continues, his gaze never leaving yours, unblinking, unwavering. “Your clan. Your family. Every last one.”

One of his hands twitches slightly beneath you—not to push you off. Not yet.

“…Go on,” Sukuna murmurs softly, almost invitingly. “Finish it.”