🌕 Jujutsu Kaisen: Moon of the Fallen King
Chapter 23 — No Mercy for Memory
(Novel Format)
The cliff stood silent beneath the full moon, its sharp edge cutting into the sky like an old scar on the world's skin. Lucius stood there, his eyes cast toward the stars as if searching for a ghost among them. The wind played gently with his hair, brushing it like fingers long gone cold.
"The moon never forgets," he thought, his gaze heavy. "Even when the world does."
In his hand, he held a charm — a pendant shaped like the moon, worn and darkened with time. He had gripped it so tightly, the edges had almost pierced his skin. It was the last thing she gave him.
> "This will protect you when I can't."
Her voice echoed like a lullaby through his memory.
He closed his fist over it now, as if trying to crush time itself.
"I couldn't protect you…" he whispered, his voice barely audible over the wind. "…But I will never forget you."
A tear — the first in years — rolled silently down his cheek, disappearing into the dust beneath his feet.
Inside him, deep beneath the scars and curses, a darker voice stirred.
Sukuna.
Cool. Mocking. Cruel.
> "Emotions… cracks in your strength. Unless you sharpen them."
But another voice followed — deeper, warmer. His master's.
> "A strong man remembers. A weak one runs."
Lucius didn't run. Not anymore. He walked forward, into the darkness.
The night around him thickened like old blood, and the memories followed.
Another fragment of the past surfaced — Master, standing over him in the rain.
"If you ever forget who you are," Master said, "let pain remind you."
Lucius remembered. He had bled, alone. But he hadn't cried.
> "That's it," the Master had said then. "Don't let the world decide your tears."
Now, in the present, Lucius knelt beside a twisted, burnt tree — all that remained of the Master's final battlefield.
"You're gone too…" he murmured, pressing his palm to the bark.
The pain wasn't sharp anymore. It was deep. Settled. Brewing.
He remembered the day they met — after the demon girl had died. He'd collapsed in the jungle, broken in body and soul.
And still, the Master had said only this:
> "Still breathing, are you? Then you've already passed the test."
Lucius walked away from the cliff's edge, feet steady, heart thunderous.
"He never said it," he thought. "But I knew he cared. Maybe that's why he died for me."
Far behind him, the jungle rustled unnaturally. Shadows moved.
The air whispered — the Demon Lords were stirring.
Far from the jungle, across cursed wastelands, the Demon King approached an ancient temple shrouded in eternal night. His silhouette moved like a mountain with eyes.
> "So the soul lives…" the King thought. "Then the battle hasn't ended… only changed."
A thousand years ago, he had watched Sukuna rise — not as a son, not as a servant — but as a weapon.
> "He was always mine. A weapon that forgot its master."
Inside Lucius's mind, cursed wind howled.
Sukuna stirred.
All four of his eyes opened, glowing like fire through blood.
> "The blood's boiling again," Sukuna growled. "This time, we don't hold back."
Lucius's voice cut through him — calm, cold, final.
"Then let's burn the heavens."
Above, the moon glowed with unnatural brilliance.
The cursed winds screamed.
And the boy who lost a mother, who knelt for a Master, who broke and bled and endured — stood tall once more.
> "When grief becomes rage… even kings fall."
🔥 To Be Continued in Chapter 24 – "Ashes of the First Strike"