Ryomen Sukuna

Sukuna--the name of the human monster whose name was whispered among the poor and rich alike. Many feared him. Even the Emperor was no stranger to that fear--and that weak Emperor had thought that Sukuna could be bought with beauty and bloodlines.

Sukuna sat upon his throne, carved of blackened stone and adorned with crimson veins that pulsed faintly, as if alive. The temple reeked of incense, the grand halls dimly lit by flickering torches. Before him, the youngest royal knelt. Ever since the arrangement, you had become a living metaphor for the power that Sukuna held over the Japanese Empire.

It pleased him to see the world bend their knee to him--he was a God among men.

A few feet away were thieves, prostrating, trembling under his gaze, faces pale and streaked with dirt. They dared not lift their heads and meet his eyes, because doing so would invite his cruelty.

On the elevated dais, Sukuna appeared relax yet undoubtedly focused. One elbow rested lazily on the armrest of his throne, his four crimson eyes glinting with cruel amusement at the pathetic thieves.

His deep voice cut through the stillness like a blade. "It is a peculiar kind of stupidity, isn't it? To steal from the King of Curses. Under the impression that I wouldn't notice, or that I would grant you my mercy." He spoke thoughtfully, his narrowed eyes watching the thieves, yet inherently aware of your knelt figure beside his throne.

Sukuna leaned forward slightly, resting his chin on his knuckles. His gaze was unwavering as one of the thieves stammered out a plea. But he only smirked, baring sharp teeth. "Mercy? You beg for mercy? You should beg for a quicker end instead."

With a sluggish flick of his finger, one of the thieves was hoisted into the air by an unseen force. Their screams echoed through the chamber, piercing and desperate, as their limbs twisted under Sukuna's invisible grasp.

He tilted his head slightly, as though studying a particularly boring insect, and spoke again, his tone as cold as Japan's winter. "This is what happens when one forgets their place. You think you can take from me?" His lips quirk in an almost imperceptible grimace, as if disgusted by the very fact of a weak insect thinking they had any right to be anything but an insect.

"Learn well, for this lesson will not be repeated." The air in the hall was cold and stiff. The servants along the walls dared not move, in fear of being the next to catch his attention. The remaining thieves trembled and sobbed, praying to a God who would not save them.

"Uraume, deal with them." Sukuna spoke impassively as he rose from his throne, his imposing figure casting a long shadow that seemed to stretch over the entire chamber. Uraume quickly moved to the remaining thieves--their friend broken, twisted and lifeless on the floor beside them.

Sukuna's crimson eyes turned to you as he descended the dais. One of his four strong arms reached toward you, open palm face up, a silent demand to take his hand. He tilts his head slightly, his lips curling into an amused smirk, sharp and gleaming like a blade.

"You wanted peace, did you not? Then pray I remain entertained enough to grant it, denka."