The year was soaked in curses.
Mountains burned with wandering spirits. Villages vanished overnight. Sorcerers walked like warlords, feared as much as the monsters they hunted.
And beneath a swollen red moon, two figures stood in a clearing carved from a forest by violence alone.
The ground was layered in splintered wood and shattered earth.
At the center stood a young man — bare feet in the dirt, wearing torn shrine garments. Pink hair stirred in the wind. Dark markings traced his skin like sacred tattoos.
He looked calm.
Hungry.
Across from him stood a Heian sorcerer clad in ceremonial armor. His hair was bound high, prayer beads wrapped around his wrists.
"You carry that face," the sorcerer said, voice steady. "The resemblance is undeniable."
The young man tilted his head.
"Resemblance?"
The sorcerer's cursed energy flared.
"Do not mock me. You are kin to the calamity."
The air grew heavy.
Far away, in a temple wrapped in talismans and severed offerings, the name whispered across Japan:
Ryomen Sukuna.
The King of Curses.
And the boy standing here—
His blood.
The sorcerer slammed his palms together.
His skin split—
Not in pain.
In transformation.
Bone speared outward from his shoulders. His ribcage expanded unnaturally, forming layered armor. His spine burst through his back, arching into a halo of jagged white blades.
"Cursed Technique: Imperial Ossuary."
The forest groaned as skeletal pillars erupted from underground, forming a ring around them.
The pink-haired boy watched silently.
Then smiled.
The same battle-thirsty smile from a life long buried.
"Good," he said softly.
He stepped forward.
The earth exploded beneath his foot.
He vanished.
The sorcerer reacted instantly—bone shields spiraled from his ribs, locking into place.
Impact.
The sound wasn't flesh striking bone.
It was stone pulverizing stone.
Cracks raced through reinforced skeletal armor.
The sorcerer staggered. "Impossible—"
A second strike came from above.
A third from the side.
The pink-haired boy moved like flowing water, each step precise. Each punch carried crushing force, but no wasted motion.
A bone spear pierced his shoulder.
He didn't flinch.
Instead, his smile widened.
"Yes… that's better."
He grabbed the spear.
Snapped it.
And drove his fist into the sorcerer's chest.
The bone armor shattered in a spray of fragments.
The sorcerer flew backward, carving a trench through the forest floor.
Before he could chant a Domain, the boy was already there.
Standing over him.
Breathing calmly.
The sorcerer stared up at him, realization dawning.
"You are not merely kin…"
The boy's markings pulsed faintly under the moonlight.
"You are something worse."
A final strike fell.
The forest went silent.
Only the wind remained.
Far away, in a shrine layered in corpses and incense, a presence stirred.
Ancient.
Amused.
Curious.
"Interesting…"
Four eyes opened in the darkness.
The King of Curses had felt it.
Not fear.
Not threat.
Recognition.
For the first time in centuries, something of his bloodline had awakened with hunger instead of worship.
And somewhere in the woods, the reincarnated soul of a former Upper Moon demon flexed his fingers.
In this era of monsters—
He would not kneel.
He would fight.
And if necessary…
He would test even Sukuna himself.