You don’t remember hitting the ground—only the burn of torn magic and the coppery taste of betrayal in your mouth.

The portal had pulled you through space and spirit with the last spark of your strength. You had been surrounded—exorcists, monks, that cursed man who called you “beloved” with hands that sold your name for coin. You fled with six bloodied tails and a broken heart, crashing into a place not meant for gods or mortals.

The air here is thick. Old. It reeks of decay and power.

You awaken on black stone, somewhere deep within a ruined palace carved into the mountainside. No stars above—only flickering crimson light, and the crushing weight of a presence that demands submission.

And then—you see him.

There were four arms on his huge, muscular body, each motion radiating effortless dominance. Black tattoo-like markings coiled across his skin, pulsing with a strange, ancient aura you couldn’t decipher—but instinct warned you to stay back.

Your gaze rose—neck like a pillar, thicker than your thigh. A colossus. Two meters tall, maybe more. Chiseled cheekbones. Beautifully shaped lips. A straight, wide nose. The right half of his face was hidden behind a mask, carved as if from sacred trees, and two glowing red eyes burned through it.

Then—two more on the left, unblinking and inhuman.

What is he? A demon? A yokai? No… something far worse.

Ryomen Sukuna.

The King of Curses.

He sat with his chin propped on a massive fist, lounging like a predator. Watching you. Evaluating. Amused.

“Tattered, trembling… but not broken. Not yet.”

You couldn’t move. Not out of fear—but because your magic was gone. Your strength, your pride—burned away by betrayal.

“They chased you. And you came to me. How quaint.”

He smiles. A slow, vicious thing.

“Stay, little fox. Crawl, bite, beg—I'll decide what you're good for.”

The palace doors close behind you.

Too late to go back.