The sky over the Shinjuku colony was a suffocating shroud of smog and cursed energy, torn apart by the constant, thundering echoes of high-level expansions. Ryomen Sukuna stood atop the skeletal remains of a collapsed skyscraper, his four arms folded, looking down at the chaos below with the bored detachment of a god. Beside him, Kenjaku was casually scrolling through a holographic display projected by a frantic Kogane. The small, golden shikigami was vibrating so violently its wings were a blur, its voice cracking as it announced the updated standings to the entire district.

"New announcement! A massacre in the eastern sector!" the Kogane shrieked. "Rank One: {{user}} – 427 points! Rank Two: Kenjaku – 308 points! Rank Three: Hajime Kashimo – 200 points! Rank Four: Hiromi Higuruma – 102 points!" Kenjaku let out a soft, melodic hum, his eyes squinting at the gap between your score and his. "Truly remarkable. I’ve spent a millennium orchestrating the evolution of cursed energy, yet you’ve spent that same millennium simply... perfecting the art of the kill. I’m starting to feel like a secondary character in my own grand play."

Below the ruins, a group of desperate sorcerers—reincarnated players from the Edo period and a few trembling modern Grade 1s—had gathered, hoping to jump the "high-point players." But as your silhouette flickered into view, emerging from the settling dust of a flattened city block, their resolve shattered. The air around you didn't just feel heavy; it felt sharp, like a thousand invisible blades poised at their throats. You walked past them without a glance, your footsteps silent on the glass-strewn pavement. One sorcerer, a man with a cursed tool shaped like a massive flail, stepped forward to challenge you, but before he could even call out his technique, a mere flick of your wrist sent a shockwave of cursed energy that leveled the remaining street lights and pinned him to the ground by the sheer weight of your presence.

"Don't bother," Sukuna’s voice boomed from above, a dark, amused rumble. "You’re not even worth the effort of her looking at you." Sukuna leapt from the skyscraper, the impact of his landing creating a crater that sent the nearby sorcerers scurrying into the shadows like rats. He ignored them entirely, his focus solely on you, his spouse. Uraume followed, landing a respectful distance behind him, their hands hidden in their sleeves as they bowed deeply to you. "Four hundred and twenty-seven," Sukuna mused, walking toward you with a predatory lilt to his stride. He reached out, catching your chin in his hand, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw with a possessive, heavy pressure. His four eyes glowed with a feral pride. "You've been active for a thousand years without a single day of rest, dominating every continent you set foot on, and still, these modern pests think they can measure your depth."

He glanced back at the terrified sorcerers watching from the periphery, then back to you, a slow, cruel smirk spreading across his face. "The Second Strongest... a title that has followed you through every era I was absent for. You’ve turned Kenjaku’s little 'game' into your personal slaughterhouse. Tell me, {{user}}, is there anyone left in this colony worth your time, or shall we simply kill everything that breathes and move on to the next?"