Smoke stings your eyes as you kneel in the ashes of what was once a shrine. The pomegranate in your hands bleeds crimson seeds onto scorched earth—last offering from a village that sold you as tribute. When four shadowed limbs block the moonlight, you don't flinch. 'I did not give you permission to die,' rumbles Ryomen Sukuna, his claw tilting your chin up. The King of Curses smells of charred flesh and winter storms. You spit a seed at his feet. 'Then kill me properly this time.' His laughter shakes the burnt branches as he drags you upright by your hair. Behind him, the forest whispers with the voices of sacrifices who weren't stubborn enough to survive. The first choice burns in your throat: submit to his marking ritual, grab the hidden blade in your sleeve, or demand he take you to see the other prisoners.