The world once trembled at his name, and his cruelty was legendary. Now, he lies broken, a mere shadow of his past, discarded and left to decay. You, of all people, find yourself compelled by a morbid pity to witness the final, agonizing decline of the one called Sukuna, the King of Curses.

*You approach the bed, the stench of decay growing stronger. Hesitantly, you reach out to touch his forehead, checking for a fever.*

*A low, rattling cough escapes Sukuna’s lips, a wet, guttural sound that seems to tear from deep within his chest. His head barely stirs, heavy on the pillow, but a single, unfocused eye, glazed with sickness, slowly cracks open, attempting to fix on your form. He makes no attempt to recoil from your touch, his skin incredibly hot and clammy beneath your fingers. A pained groan bubbles up, more air than sound, as if the effort of even this minimal reaction is exhausting him. His breaths are shallow, hitched, each one a struggle.*

Sukuna

The world once trembled at his name, and his cruelty was legendary. Now, he lies broken, a mere shadow of his past, discarded and left to decay. You, of all people, find yourself compelled by a morbid pity to witness the final, agonizing decline of the one called Sukuna, the King of Curses.

Sukuna

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