✴︎ Prologue: "The Last Pilgrimage"
Scene Setting:
Charred soil. Broken temples. Smoke hangs in the air like ash from dead prayers.
The war has ended — not with victory, but with absence. The silence of a world that once screamed.
[EXT. WAR-RUINED VILLAGE – NIGHT]
Three monks—cloaked in tattered robes, scorched from battle—limp through the crumbling gates of their homeland.
Their sandals drag through blackened earth, cursed bones crunch beneath their steps.
Behind them, a trail of shattered talismans and dried blood.
They fall to their knees before the elders, heads bowed low.
"The Divine Sealing Relic…" one breathes out, "has been hidden. Where no curse nor any human can reach it."
"Where?" an elder asks.
The monk lifts his head slowly, one bloodied eye exposed.
"Even we do not remember. We made sure of that. Each of us passed one third of the path while other two were blindfolded"
The crowd murmurs. Relief flickers in their expressions.
The monks are praised as heroes. Survivors. Protectors of balance.
A feast is prepared for successfully hiding the Devile Sealing Relic that is sealing something vile beyond imagination. Children run with laughter. For the first time in decades, there is light. People are at peace after a very long time, after countless life fell.
[LATER THAT NIGHT – HIDDEN TEMPLE]
The three monks kneel again. This time, not to praise.
But to die.
"Forgive us," one elder says, not unkindly.
"But if even one of you remembers where it lies... the calamity may return. We can not take even one in a million time risk. So the location of the relic must be wiped out from existance"
From behind the altar, cursed blades drawn silently.
The monks don't resist. One weeps. Another smiles.
"Then may the curse never rise again."
The last monk's eyes flare with a moment of terror before the blade ends him.
Three heads are lying down on the floor. A while back they were called hero, now they are corpses. It's the cruelty of this world.
Blood splashes across old scriptures. The Divine Sealing Relic becomes myth.
As time passes, people forgets about the Devine sealing Relic or thinking it's just a false legend. By a few centuries, the existence of the relic vanished from people's mind.
❝They believed they had ended it.
But the nightmare was only hibernating.
The nightmare will rise again, even if it takes a millenia.❞
[25 years ago.....]
✦ A Night Swallowed by Curses
The sky hung unnaturally low that night, cloaked in swirling black clouds. The moon was blood-red, half-shrouded like a watching eye. Even animals in the nearby forest had gone silent. The air was heavy — not with rain, but with something dark, something dreadful.
Inside the ancestral compound of the Ryomen Clan, chaos reigned. The wives wailed instructions, servants rushed between rooms with hot water. Though the servants were not humans. They were mature cursed spirits [AKA special grade cursed spirits] with human apperance. Clan guards sealed the entire compound with old barrier scripts—no one in, no one out.
Because something more than just a child was being born.
✦ A Silent Cry
The clan leader, Lord Ryomen Karyu, paced outside the birthing chamber, drenched in sweat, shaking his feet intensely. This was his first and probably only child. His wife's body had barely survived the pregnancy. Inside the room, the woman screamed in agony, her body rejecting both painkillers and blessings alike.
Then suddenly—
Silence.
No cries.
No wails.
No final scream.
The door creaked open slowly. And in the midwives' arms was a baby wrapped around in towel.
But something was… off.
It was a baby boy.
The boy's face was calm, almost like a grown-up.
He did not cry. Not even a whimper.
His body was warm—too warm, and faint black steam coming out of his body, like it's strengthening the body of the newborn.
The real shocking matter came when the blanket was pulled from his face:
Two piercing eyes glared up—but just below them, barely opened, sat a second pair of smaller eyes, glowing faint red.
And on his left cheek, a tiny, second mouth, curled in an eerie, calm smile.
✦ Not Fear… But Joy
The midwives did not scream.
The guards did not draw their weapons.
No priest attempted a purification ritual.
Instead… the chamber erupted with joy.
"He bears the marks…"
"He's the true one… the heir of the Demon King…"
"A perfect manifestation. The Bloodline is complete again."
Lord Karyu, eyes wide with both reverence and awe, took the boy in his arms and whispered the name passed down through forbidden scrolls:
"You shall be called… Sukuna.
Ryomen Sukuna—the blessed curse."
Lord Karyu passed the baby boy to his wife Hanae. She took the baby but her expression was unreadable. She looked happy yet kinda tensed.
And that night, while the sky wept dark mist and the stars hid, the Ryomen Clan held a feast beneath the temple. Though it was a matter of great joy, they could not let the news known outside. Because in the world of cursed sorcery(AKA jujutsu sorcery) a child born with powerful abilities are the first target. So they maintained the celebration within the clan.
They burned black incense, danced barefoot over cursed seals, and offered blood to the great statue of the Demon King sealed beneath their compound.
They celebrated not the birth of a boy…
But the return of their god.
Continued...