Ryomen Sukuna. A human from a thousand years ago. A monster with two faces and four arms. Back then, jujutsu was at its absolute zenith, and the entire jujutsu world marshaled its full strength to challenge him.
They failed. Every last one of them became corpses beneath his feet. After death he was given the name "Ryomen Sukuna," but even in death he did not decay—his soul took refuge in his twenty fingers, which could only be sealed, never destroyed.
He was the undisputed King of Curses, a demon-god who had ruled an era.
Now, having devoured the ten fingers Mahito provided, plus the three Yuji Itadori had already consumed, thirteen fingers resided within this body.
According to Suguru Geto's analysis, Jogo—a top-tier Special Grade Cursed Spirit—was only equivalent to seven or eight of Sukuna's fingers.
Sukuna had been classified as Special Grade because nothing higher existed.
Savage without reason. Free without restraint.
"Malevolent Shrine."
The moment Sukuna's voice rang out, the world went dark.
Wind, rain, thunder—every sound died at once.
Everything was vanishing. Everything was fading. Shadow spread outward, rolling over the sky, swallowing the mountains, wrapping around the earth.
Silence.
Dong—
A bell tolled.
And lit the entire world ablaze.
A crystalline lake rippled with gentle waves, its surface like a blue-green mirror reflecting all things.
The outermost rim of the sky was blood-red. From the edges inward, the color deepened—darker than any night, a canopy that no light could penetrate, like a vast lid pressing down on the world.
Following the canopy downward, at the far end of the lake stood a temple. Three-tiered eaves, their upturned corners exaggerated and cruel, like fangs, like black wings. Layer upon layer of black tiles crowded the dome, dense as the scales of some living creature.
Directly beneath the temple, three skulls were enshrined. Each was the size of a man, mouths gaping wide, teeth gleaming bone-white.
Sukuna stood beneath his temple, draped in a kimono pure as snow.
"Dismantle."
Inside a Domain, every strike lands true.
Nanami Kira watched his arm fall away from his shoulder. He shifted his weight slightly. His entire body was covered in lacerations, blood pouring freely. He bit down against the agony, pressed his remaining hand over the stump, and fixed his gaze on Sukuna.
Life was draining from him fast. His whole body felt as if a thousand needles were driving in, ten thousand ants crawling over his skin. The pain was absolute. The helplessness, total.
"It's over."
"You were entertaining—more than most. I'd considered sparing your life."
His tone was leisurely, offhand, as though this were some natural law, some foregone conclusion.
As casual as discussing the life and death of a pet. As trivial as deciding whether to keep or discard a toy.
"Within my Domain, I am invincible."
There was no visible arrogance in his bearing. His voice remained perfectly flat. And yet one could feel the contempt radiating from every syllable, and the pride.
As though sparing Nanami Kira's life would have been Kira's honor. As though Sukuna was the master of all things.
"But on second thought, never mind. A pity."
Sukuna tilted his head.
He raised his hand toward Nanami Kira once more:
"Dismantle."
Crack.
The sound of something shattering.
"I came here hoping you could drive me to despair. But I'm disappointed—I haven't felt a single moment of doubt."
"You said 'invincible' just now, didn't you?"
Sukuna looked down at his right hand with mild puzzlement. It was disintegrating, piece by piece, crumbling into ash.
A tiny tank had smashed through his body. Cold light glinted in its skull-shaped eyes.
"So you did manage to drag me into your Domain after all."
Nanami Kira pressed his hand against the blood still streaming from his wounds. Slowly, he rose from the water's surface, and said calmly:
"This is my companion shikigami. Its name is Sheer Heart Attack."
His gaze was detached. Blood ran ceaselessly down his body. He stood in the lake, his reflection mirrored perfectly in the still water, framing his face.
"It has one defining trait: it is essentially indestructible. But it also has one weakness—it prioritizes the hottest target in its vicinity."
"That's why I didn't deploy it during our fight earlier. I only used it as a shield to block your strikes. The forest was crawling with warm-blooded creatures, and you should be able to regulate your own body temperature."
Cursed Technique disclosed.
"But now you've dragged me into your Domain. It's just you and me!"
Which means no matter how much you lower your body temperature, the hottest thing in here is still you!
Slash, slash, slash.
"Dismantle, Dismantle, Dismantle!"
Gash after gash appeared on Sheer Heart Attack's frame. A relentless barrage of slashes hammered down on it without pause, like an endless downpour crashing against the heart.
But Sheer Heart Attack was a pine tree in that storm. Battered and scarred from head to treads, it stood firm in the gale—inching forward, one grinding length at a time, against a tempest that seemed ready to shred the world apart.
If Sukuna's Domain was a kitchen's cutting board, then Sheer Heart Attack was the slab of meat that refused to die no matter how many times it was hacked.
"Eyes on me!"
It slammed into Sukuna with everything it had, shattering every ounce of his arrogance, every shred of his composure.
Flesh burst apart chunk by chunk, only to regenerate.
Sukuna staggered back several steps and raised his head—only to find that Nanami Kira had vanished from in front of him.
The attack came from behind. Kira was skating across the ripples. Layer upon layer of waves fanned outward across the once-still lake. Killer Queen followed in his wake, its dark-crimson slit-pupils blazing like twin suns, bearing down on Sukuna with overwhelming force.
"Dismantle. Dismantle. Dismantle."
No room to dodge—then parry it is.
Nanami Kira watched the slashes sweeping toward him, felt that frigid, bone-cutting aura, and his mind went perfectly clear.
Black sparks graced him.
Black Flash.
A strike only possible when cursed energy output and physical impact synchronize completely. It demands absolute precision in a sorcerer's control over both body and cursed energy.
And something more—an instinct, indescribable, ineffable, profoundly mysterious.
The vast majority of sorcerers never achieve it in their entire lives.
Black cursed energy churned. The silver-white nail clipper danced, carving smooth, eerie arcs through the air, weaving between the dense web of slash marks. Every strike landed exactly at their 7:3 point, snapping each one cleanly in two.
"Domain—release."
The blue-green lake, the crimson sky, the uncanny shrine—all of it vanished in an instant. Sheer Heart Attack ground to a halt directly in front of Sukuna.
Reverse Cursed Technique.
Sukuna extended his half-destroyed hand toward Kira. Flesh surged and regrew, instantly forming a bulging cocoon of meat from which a new arm burst free, meeting Kira's blade head-on.
Two monstrous waves of cursed energy collided. Heaven and earth shuddered.
Slash.
Black fire blazed once more along Kira's blade—brilliant, and utterly dark.
Kira pivoted. The blade traced a clockwise arc through Sukuna's joint, then reversed, already hugging the surface of Sukuna's skin, driving straight for his face.
The jujutsu world's record for consecutive Black Flashes was three. Nanami Kira could achieve four.
Black Flash. Black Flash. Black Flash.
"Collapse."
Now, under Sukuna's relentless pressure, he shattered his own limit—five consecutive Black Flashes.
That eerie, sacred fire was born at his blade's tip, and at each 7:3 point on Sukuna's skull, chest, and abdomen—
It bloomed.
"Collapse."