The storm rolls in without warning.
Thunder cracks like a war drum over the Taity ancestral shrine, nestled deep in the mountains of Queensland. The air thickens with something ancient—something watching. Adam feels it in his bones. A pulse beneath the earth. A whisper in the wind. Something is calling.
He's seventeen. Restless. Brilliant. Haunted. Raised by monks who speak in riddles and silence, Adam has always felt like a stranger in his own skin. His parents vanished when he was a child—"taken by the curse," the elders whispered. But no one ever explained what that meant. Tonight, he's done waiting.
He slips past the shrine gates, barefoot and reckless, drawn by instinct and fury. The forest parts for him. Trees lean away. Animals flee. Even the wind seems to hold its breath.
In the heart of the woods, he finds it.
A clearing. A stone altar, half-buried in moss and time. At its center: a tablet carved from obsidian, etched with blood-red script that writhes like living flame. It hums with power. It hums with hunger.
Adam steps closer.
The tablet pulses. His vision blurs. Symbols burn into his mind—ancient, violent, divine. He reaches out, compelled by something deeper than curiosity. The moment his fingers touch the stone, the world explodes.
Pain floods his body. Not physical pain—existential. Memories not his own. Screams from centuries past. Cities burning. Sorcerers dying. A name carved into his soul.
Ryomen Sukuna.
The King of Curses.
Adam falls to his knees, gasping. His shadow twists unnaturally. His heartbeat syncs with something monstrous. From within, a voice speaks.
"You are mine now."
But Adam doesn't break.
He clenches his fists. Stands. Bleeding, trembling, defiant.
"No," he whispers. "You're mine."
The forest erupts. Trees split. Lightning strikes the altar. The tablet shatters into dust. And in that moment, Adam sees him—Sukuna, grinning, four eyes glowing, standing in the void of his mind.
"Interesting," Sukuna says. "You're not like the others."
Adam doesn't flinch.
"I'm not here to be possessed. I'm here to become something greater."
Sukuna laughs—a sound like knives scraping bone.
"Then let's begin."
That night, Adam dreams.
He floats in a sea of cursed energy, drifting between realms. He sees a man—white hair, blindfold, smiling like he knows the end of every story.
Satoru Gojo.
The strongest sorcerer. The bearer of the Six Eyes.
But in the dream, Gojo is dying. His power fractures. And a thread of infinity reaches out—toward Adam.
He wakes screaming.
His eyes glow blue.
The Six Eyes have chosen a new host.
The monks find him at dawn, standing in the ruins of the forest. His aura is different—untouchable. They kneel before him, terrified.
"The Cursed Lord has risen," one whispers.
"He bears the mark of Sukuna and the gaze of Gojo," says another.
"He will either save the world… or end it."
Adam says nothing.
He looks at his hands. Feels the power coursing through him. And somewhere deep inside, Sukuna chuckles.
"Let's see what kind of god you become."