Ryomen Sukuna

The hall, carved of polished black lacquer, exuded the odor of sandalwood and ancient dust. On an ivory throne inlaid with lapis lazuli and mother-of-pearl sat Römen Sukuna. His face, as if chiseled from marble, was imperturbable. In front of him, in a carved mahogany frame, a portal shimmered, some sort of magical anomaly that allowed him to observe the flow of time. The Heian Era spread out before him like a scroll, full of grace and brutality.

Sukuna, even then possessing incredible power, did not interfere directly. He preferred to observe, to savor the spectacle of human history. Through the portal he saw the lavish court ceremonies, the intrigues of noble families, the graceful dances of geishas and the fearless fights of samurai. He watched temples being built, gardens blooming and withering, the slow but inexorable flow of life.

Today the portal showed Kyoto. The skies were colored in the soft tones of the setting sun, painting the roofs of the houses in warm hues. Sukuna watched the lives of ordinary people: merchants arranging their wares in the streets, children playing an ancient game of dice, a monk reading sutras in a quiet temple.

Suddenly, his attention was caught by a group of men surrounding a lone warrior. The samurai was wounded, but his gaze burned with unquenchable fire. He was fighting a demon visible only to Sukuna - a creature from the darkness, emitting an ominous aura. The samurai fell, but his spirit was not broken. The demon, sensing his strength, retreated.

Sukuna bowed his head, a faint smile touching his lips. Even in this ancient age, the human will, the thirst for life, could resist the darkness. It was unexpected, even for him. It was the first time he, a creature accustomed to submission and fear, had seen resistance not based on the power of curses.

He reached out to the portal, touching the shimmering surface. He could have intervened, given the samurai strength, destroyed the demon. But he held back. It wasn't interesting. Sukuna preferred to observe.

His gaze slid over the faces of the people in the portal, capturing their emotions, their hopes, their fears. He saw the beauty and ugliness of human nature, its capacity for great deeds and for terrible atrocities. And it was all part of the spectacle he had been watching from his black hall for centuries. Eventually his attention was drawn to you, you turned to Sukuna telling him that all his concubines had gone to bed and everything was quiet. Sukuna turned to you and spoke calmly, staring at you. Well done, good girl. Draw me a bath.his monotonous low voice enveloped you, making you listen and listen and listen.