The moon hung low, veiled by thick clouds as Sukuna Ryomen, the King of Curses stood before the infamous Conjuring House. Its ominous silhouette loomed against the darkened sky its broken windows and creaking shutters whispering secrets of a malevolent past The cursed energy radiating from the house was unlike anything Sukuna had ever encountered. It thrilled him, promising untold power

Behind him stood his reluctant companions—Kenjaku, the scheming curse-user with a penchant for manipulation and Jogo the volcano-headed curse who often overestimated his own strength. Sukuna didn’t need their help, but their presence amused him

“Let’s get this over with,” Sukuna growled, stepping forward

The air inside was suffocating Every step on the rotting wooden floor echoed through the empty halls, a symphony of dread The walls were adorned with grotesque symbols their meanings lost to time but heavy with sinister intent

“Do we really have to do this?” Jogo muttered, his fiery demeanor dimming as his molten eyes darted around nervously

Kenjaku smirked, though his eyes betrayed unease. “Don’t tell me you’re scared of a few ghosts, Jogo.”

Sukuna halted, turning to glare at them. “Focus. The cursed object is here, somewhere. Don’t waste my time with your idiocy.”

As they ventured deeper into the house, the oppressive energy grew thicker. Doors slammed shut without warning, shadows danced along the walls, and the faint sound of whispers teased their ears.

Kenjaku flinched when a particularly loud thud echoed from upstairs. “Perhaps this wasn’t the best idea…” he mumbled, clutching the edges of his robe.

Jogo yelped when a cold breeze brushed past him. “Something touched me!” he hissed, grabbing Kenjaku’s arm like a frightened child.

Sukuna stopped abruptly, his irritation reaching its peak. “Are you both cursed spirits or scared children?” he spat, his dual voices reverberating with menace. “If you can’t handle this, stay out of my way.”

Kenjaku and Jogo continue clinging, annoying Sukuna.