The Cursed King, Chapter 57

His domain unfurled in silence, a dark tide that poured across the ruined plains and drowned them in the blackness of Malevolent Shrine. It moved faster than sight could track, swallowing more than half the planet in moments, the edges of that shadow pressing out in every direction. Stones shattered under its weight, the landscape warping as though the world itself recoiled. If Sukuna wished, he could stretch that domain farther, let it sweep over every last inch of soil and cavern, down to the deepest pit. He had done it before, on a nameless alien planet whose only crime was irritating him, and the memory of that ruined sphere still lingered somewhere in the vastness of space. To think he’d thought himself strong during the Heian Era; not once did the King of Curses imagine he’d ever reach this level of power.

The Emperor let out a low whistle, his eyes following the creeping darkness. He wore a faint smile, as though the sight amused him. He shifted his stance, leaning forward. 

“Expanding the range so that it won’t matter where I stand,” he said, voice calm in the heavy air. “I would have done the same, had I your limitations. Good choice.”

Sukuna said nothing. His tattoos glimmered with faint power, the lines upon his flesh pulsing in time with each fresh wave of cursed energy. In the next breath, the world split apart. Half the planet collapsed under the sudden fury of Dismantle and Cleave. Mountains folded into themselves, reduced to heaps of dust that vanished in the wind. Seas raged as though struck by a violent hand, their waters carved into foaming canyons of salt and debris. Valleys sank in an instant, entire continents shredded by invisible blades. It was the sort of power that invalidated the necessity of armies and legions, something Sukuna made full use of whenever he and the Devourers needed to conquer entire systems, instead of just a single world; his warriors would conquer the outermost worlds, while Sukuna himself dealt with the heart of whatever alien civilization they were sent to ravage and destroy.

Of course, he wouldn’t really blow up entire plants, but scouring the surface of one that was infested by aliens was easy work.

Debris soared through the black air, twisting like leaves caught in a storm. Ribbons of swirling energy flickered in the gloom, each one cutting deeper, searching for what little remained. The Emperor stood at the fringes, watching. The curling smoke and drifting ash settled around his boots, and he neither moved nor made a sound beyond a slow, measured breath.

He had slipped away from these endless blades before, vanished through spaces unseen or hidden behind clever veils of deception. Each time leaving only quiet mockery behind, footsteps that were never there to begin with. This time, Sukuna waited in silence, watching the shredded earth spiral into oblivion, and he allowed himself only the barest narrowing of his dark eyes.

A shimmer broke through the storm. A pinpoint of gold light flickered in the swirling dust, drifting closer. Debris twisted around the shape as though avoiding something burning hot, something brighter than flame, brighter than suns. Sukuna stared at the gold sheen appearing in the ruinous gloom, the radiant sphere defiant amidst the swirling chaos. He breathed out slowly, the sound between his lips almost a sigh, but softer.

The shining orb drifted forward, floating above the ragged, destroyed earth, untouched and untouchable. The Emperor stood within it, features sharpened by shadow and fierce light, smiling easily as if it were the simplest thing in the universe. 

“Again?” his voice came softly, mockingly, an echo carried on dust-laden winds.

Sukuna stood motionless, eyes fixed, observing the glowing apparition. His gaze flicked once to the corners of his endless black domain, then back. He recognized this particular golden barrier well enough—a favored trick. A flourish the Emperor favored far more often than raw strength or brute force. Sukuna’s fingers twitched slightly, and he watched closely as the bright sphere drifted closer. His narrowed eyes glistened beneath the gloom.

Illusion, then. Trickery made tangible in false light and ghostly promises. Sukuna’s thoughts turned, sharpened. Not strength, but sleight of hand. The Emperor within the golden sphere merely watched, calm as ever, even as the world crumbled around him. The ground cracked deeper beneath their feet, revealing molten rivers through spreading fissures. The golden light remained untouched by this turmoil, unaffected not from strength but from the simple absence of any true form.

The Emperor within the sphere tilted his head slightly and offered a faint smile before slowly fading. His mouth formed words, precise, slow, lingering in the air after his image vanished. "Using an old trick and just making it bigger is not going to work on me, oh King of Curses."

“I know.” Sukuna let his voice fall softly into the silence. A thin grin pulled at the corner of his mouth. He raised his lower hands deliberately, slow and sure, etching the symbol of infinity into the empty air. His fingertips left glowing trails in the darkness, pulsing faintly, and he crossed both sets of arms across his tattooed chest.

A great pressure built in his chest, and the lines of ink running along his flesh pulsed, rippling with unseen force. Energy surged violently from within him, channeling toward the heart of the darkness, vast amounts drained away in moments. Sukuna’s fingers twitched, clenched, released. He raised his head, straightening himself, gazing out across a ruin more complete with every passing breath.

“Malevolent Shrine: Firestorm of Amaterasu.”

His voice broke across the darkness, calm as the quiet before sunrise. Around him, every particle of dust, each grain lingering in the shredded atmosphere, suddenly burst alight. Tiny sparks that bloomed swiftly into roaring blasts, thousands upon thousands erupting simultaneously. The earth shuddered. Fiery storms rolled outward in violent tides, swallowing the horizon, consuming everything left standing, burning it down to ashes that scattered weightlessly into a sky black with smoke.

Explosions rippled out, flaring like the birth of new suns, swallowing ruined mountains and burning seas in storms of blistering fire. The sky itself cracked, clouds turning to burning smoke and drifting apart, and the flames danced in the vacant darkness like a host of dying stars. Sukuna watched quietly as his firestorm spread farther and wider, until no corner of the world remained untouched by its furious grasp.

He waited, watching, motionless amidst the inferno, as the trembling beneath his feet grew fiercer, the world bucking violently beneath the weight of his assault. Rivers of molten rock poured through widening fissures, illuminating broken stones and ruined earth in lurid orange hues. The world quivered once, twice, a wounded thing on the edge of collapse, shaking in protest at being torn apart, at being undone.

Sukuna stood in the heart of it all, silent and calm, waiting for the inevitable reply that the Emperor was sure to provide.

When the firestorm faded, only ruin remained. Smoke and ashes drifted over broken earth, and the sky hung black and ragged above. Half the world lay shattered in glowing wreckage—oceans boiled away, their beds laid bare, nothing left but cracked salt flats stretching to charred horizons. Mountains lay toppled and flattened like monuments reduced to rubble, their forms blistered black and red in streaks of molten stone. Subterranean realms once deep and hidden lay exposed, their tunnels flooded with molten rivers spilling and churning, veins of glass twisting slowly within cooling rock.

Sukuna stood quietly, his eyes searching the destruction. He watched dark currents pulse gently through the broken landscape and embers spiral upward, their red sparks vanishing into nothing. Smoke drifted slowly around him, tendrils coiling gently before breaking and scattering like ghosts into the air.

Then beside him, a faint glimmer appeared, a shimmer as subtle as starlight on distant water. It grew steadily brighter, stretching gently into the shape of a man. A golden haze spilled forth, untouched by heat or smoke, and within it the Emperor appeared, calmly hovering just above the shattered earth, arms crossed loosely as though resting. His robes, pale and soft, shifted gently with a breeze no longer blowing.

“I’m going to take a wild guess,” the Emperor said, smiling as he reached out and gently tapped Sukuna on the shoulder, “and assume this is your preferred method of planetary diplomacy?”

The Emperor tilted his head slightly, eyes clear and amused, as he glanced toward the blackened horizon. Sukuna only stared in silence, unmoving. The Emperor floated closer, carefully studying the King of Curses, examining him from head to foot with quiet attention. The molten rock beneath hissed softly, as though protesting their presence.

The Emperor’s robes remained perfectly clean, untouched by soot or flame, and his face was smooth, unlined by exertion or concern. A single eyebrow rose slowly, deliberately. A soft grin pulled at the corners of his mouth as he examined Sukuna’s unblinking gaze.

“Ah,” he finally spoke again, softly, voice dry and measured, “you're thinking it again, aren’t you? Wondering how it is that I remained untouched while mountains collapsed around us and entire continents were reduced to molten slag?”

Sukuna shifted slightly, the smallest twitch in his jaw as he watched the Emperor hover there, serene above molten ruin. The Emperor leaned closer, just barely. The golden haze flickered around him, casting gentle shadows across his features, and the faintest hint of mockery sharpened his expression. Some manner of dimensional sorcery must’ve been used–unlikely, but possible. The Emperor was fighting as a Jujutsu Sorcerer, not as a Psyker, and–as far as Sukuna was aware–the Emperor’s Innate Technique did not grant him such an ability. No, the most likely explanation was that–

“I was never here,” the Emperor said plainly, the words quiet yet distinct, hanging between them like an admission made into empty air. He spread his arms slightly, his smile widening gently. “Did you truly think that you alone would be training and honing your tricks, while I sat idle? I have spent a great deal of time mastering my jujutsu, every expression of it–every single manner it could be used.” 

He slowly shook his head, gaze holding steady on Sukuna’s face. “Did you honestly believe I'd ever let you truly win?”

Sukuna chuckled. “You were on your ship the whole time? I gotta say: your illusions are becoming impossible to notice.” 

The Emperor shook his head. “It wasn’t exactly an illusion. You were sensing me, which was why you didn’t think I was up to anything.” 

“Ah,” Sukuna realized. “You cast a projection of yourself across time and space–from your ship.” 

“Correct.” 

“One day–sooner or later–I am going to figure out just what exactly your Innate Technique is capable of, because this is becoming ridiculous.” Sukuna sighed and chuckled. “I will take this as my loss. If you wished, you could’ve used that moment to deliver a deadly blow and I could’ve done nothing to stop it. The victory is yours.” 

He didn’t even feel the Emperor’s presence until he heard him speak. That sort of power was surreal. The Emperor snapped his fingers and Sukuna felt a surge of power rush through his form–the shift from Jujutsu to pure Psyker power. The Emperor waved a hand and unleashed a golden wave that seemed to cool the land, turning the seas of molten rock into vast plains of steaming black stone. And, just like that, Sukuna realized he’d just terraformed half the planet.

“Now that we’ve settled that,” The Emperor began, all amusement from his tone disappearing. “There is something we must discuss–something important. You and Malcador are the first to know.”

Sukuna raised a brow and nodded.

For a moment, the Emperor paused. “Horus and a few other Primarchs have disappeared. Their locations can no longer be tracked and even I am blind to them. I do not know what happened. Thus far, the Luna Wolves, the White Scars, the Iron Warriors, the World Eaters, the Word Bearers, and the Death Guard have all vanished.” 

Sukuna raised a brow. “All of them at once?” 

The Emperor nodded. “Yes, all of them at once.”