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The Good Life: Cult of Curses (ch. 65)
🕑 Added 2024-09-20 15:05:22 +0000 UTCAs irritating as he found it, Sukuna knew from the very start that he would need to change his Tithe. For centuries, he had collected cursed energy in one of two ways -- the more reliable being from the terror, pain, and rage that he harvested from the peasants as he destroyed their lives for the sake of his own amusement. It was a paltry sum, but given his habits during the Heian era, it was a practical option. The other tithe that he collected was the cursed energy of sorcerers that he consumed.
The latter was how his reserves swelled to what they were at his peak. Every time those fools sent someone to kill him, they made him stronger. It didn't take long for him to develop a taste for it, but it was only when Uraume joined him that he was able to appreciate the unique flavors of cursed energy found in jujutsu sorcerers. In his centuries of life, he’d consumed hundreds of sorcerers. Over a thousand, even.
Only now there were no sorcerers to consume. He could still terrorize people here, but it would disrupt whatever Law was planning and as irritating as he found it, Sukuna was curious what exactly that was. The result was that he had to change his tithe if he wanted to reclaim his strength. Or go beyond it. His… partner in this venture was powerful. Even the little tipping of her hand she did proved to him that even were he at his height, victory over her was uncertain.
Which left him considering what exactly he would collect as a tithe. He was rather fond of his current framework -- one small but practical tithe, with a less practical secondary method of collection that offered leaps of power.
“Hm,” Sukuna hummed as he glanced around the accommodations they’d secured at the ushering of those pathetic wretches. The people of this city had expanded downwards via mine shafts -- they dug tunnels to pull resources from the earth, and when a vein was tapped dry it was swiftly abandoned. Over time, houses and the like would be built in and around the tunnels as the land was cheap, and eventually the area would officially become part of the city. Then the entire process would repeat itself in a dozen different places at a time and thus, the Undercity grew.
The location that they found was a location simply known as the Pit. It was far underneath the Undercity, below even that trash pile they’d arrived in. It was a hole in the ground that opened up into an expansive cavern that had been filled with interesting creatures. The animals of this world tried to put up something resembling a fight to defend their home, but they were slaughtered without mercy, leaving it for Sukuna to claim.
As of now, the scum that Yoruichi so easily recruited were laboring to build the hole in the ground up into an adequate base of operations. They harvested the trash from the piles and instead of bringing it to vendors to sell whatever meager scrap they could find, it instead went into building houses and the like. Sukuna found it all rather unimpressive, but it was to be expected that trash couldn't create anything worthy of his attention.
“How annoying,” Sukuna sighed, watching the trash walk around, their gazes vacant from their recent dose of Joy. He already knew what he should do, but it was irritating simply going along with Law's plan. But, as irritating as it was, he was curious what exactly Law saw in this game of his. And wondered if it was worthy of his attention.
“So you've mentioned. Feel like actually doing anything?” Yoruichi asked after seemingly appearing behind him, and he glanced over his shoulder. The woman was strong. Stronger than he currently was, at any rate. “Because I have something that'll be right up your alley!”
“What did you have in mind?” He questioned, tilting his head.
“It's about time we introduced ourselves to the neighbors,” Yoruichi said with a grin. He cocked his eyebrow, and she waved off his concern. “It's just to shake things up a bit. This way we find out who knows what and who answers to who.”
It didn't particularly matter to him, Sukuna decided, standing up from the crate that served as his seat. “I thought that's what your spies were for.”
“Best way to get a spy network is to steal one from someone else. That kind of stuff takes time to build up, and I want to skip the nitty gritty of it,” Yoruichi admitted. Meaning that she would be following in his wake to see who reacted and who the news went to first. “As far as anyone is going to be aware, you're just some murderous thug picking a fight.”
Sukuna grunted, “Fine.” He agreed, figuring that it was better than nothing. He waved over his shoulder, heading to the entrance of the Pit and made his way up.
This world was fascinating, but it proved that no matter how different things might be, people would always be people. So long as there was a top, there would always be a bottom. It suited Sukuna well enough, especially when it was so neatly organized. The people of Piltover reigned as kings, the Undercity firmly under their thumb. Within the Undercity itself, the higher to the surface you lived, the better you had it.
Law might enjoy upsetting the natural order, but that was his right as one of the strong. Sukuna was rather fond of it himself -- the weak, those at the bottom, existed at his mercy. The little that he had. Normally, he'd slaughter the trash that clung to the shadows watching him simply for tarnishing his view, but today was a day of experimentation. He might as well embrace the traditions of this world -- Progress Day was nearing.
So instead of slaughtering them, he reached into his ‘pocket’ -- Sukuna found that he was rather fond of the convenient storage -- and took out a pill bottle. The reaction was instant. “I have use for you, trash,” he informed them as they crawled out of the shadows and into view. He popped the bottle and tossed it on the ground before him, making the mutated filth scramble forward to seize the pills before they were gone. It didn't take long for word to spread what Joy could do, and it was the only joy that this lot had left in their lives.
“We're going to make a deal,” he informed the dozen of them, all of them high on Joy with scraped and bloody fingers from where they snatched the pills up. “Tell me what you want and I'll help you get it.” He announced, earning vacant stares with flickerings of understanding. They were intoxicated, the bitter edge of their misery smoothed over, but that didn't change who they were.
They were barely capable of words at this point, their brains half mush and whatever was left high. But one of them, at least, had enough brain matter left to speak coherently. He adjusted his cracked glasses, licking his lips before responding, “S-S-Shimmer. We want S-Shimmer.”
A true addict. Even in this state, he thought only of his next indulgence. Even if Sukuna didn't know what ‘Shimmer’ was, he knew it was responsible for the state he was in. “Hm. Very well then. Show me where Shimmer can be found -- no small amounts. Have more ambition than that. Take me to where you imagine yourself going in your dreams where you can have all the Shimmer you want.”
There was a depraved hope blossoming on their faces. They thought they had reached the peak of happiness, only to find that things could get even better. “In exchange, you become subservient to me. An extension of my will. Everything you are, everything you gain, is mine by right.”
The fools that they were, they simply agreed with greed in their eyes, and the binding vow took hold.
Binding vows were an integral part of his cursed technique. At shrines, one would bargain with a god for one thing or another. Giving up a vice in exchange for love, sacrificing something of importance in exchange for victory, and so on. In the world of Jujutsu Sorcery, that was effectively a binding vow. It was through this aspect of his cursed technique, coupled with his mastery of cursed energy, that enabled him to become the King of Curses.
By their nature, binding vows weren't something so lightly made. The power behind them was determined by the cost of danger to the user. For most common sorcerers, they were simply too risky to utilize fully because breaking a binding vow, even one made with yourself, had dire consequences.
Sukuna, not once in his life, had ever been ‘common’.
“Come along, my followers. Bask in the presence of your new god,” Sukuna said, moving along with a chuckle in his voice. Through Shrine he could bargain with a god, but there was no god that he had ever prayed to. None that he ever acknowledged.
None other than himself.
The King of Curses.
The god of Jujutsu Sorcery.
While still dangerous, making binding vows carried significantly less risk when you were bargaining with yourself. Moreso when you, as your own god, decided the retribution for a broken vow. When you allowed generous terms in your own favor. It just required the right mentality -- he was the strongest, thus he was a god. He would guide no one to any afterlife, he would hear no prayers, but with sheer strength, he was deified.
ButSukuna could admit to himself, as they continued up the Undercity to their ultimate destination, that his absolute faith in his own power had been… shaken. He’d been defeated - twice. He was at half strength. The unshakable confidence that he was the strongest had suffered a deadly crack, more so now than ever before as the world grew from just the shores of Japan to an expansive multiverse. He needed to take steps to reinforce his mentality.
Meaning that it was time for him to answer prayers.
Their movements were noticed, mostly because of the dull-eyed trash behind him. His appearance was within the norms of the people of this world. While they turned up their noses and pretended not to notice the trash, none made any attempt to stop them. They climbed up to one of the locations that held some degree of his interest.
The Undercity was divided up in what were called Lanes. Artificial pathways that were cut for easy transit of whatever Piltover was mining. Then, when they needed to delve deeper, they cut a new Lane. The Lanes left behind developed into what the Undercity became, and each Lane was a core district of the city. The one that he walked now seemed to be some kind of entertainment distinct.
There were brothels, bars, gambling dens, and the like scattered about. All of it under the protection of the same group -- or, at least, all the notable locations were. People truly didn't change even in this other world. Back in Kyoto, before he became the King of Curses, it was much the same. Bands of rōnin staking out territory, leftovers from what would be the rise of the samurai class, arrogantly lording their meager power over the peasants. Bandits that happened to live in the city.
Which made it overwhelmingly simple for Sukuna to find what he was looking for. He merely had to find the most opulent building that had more organized vermin guarding it than the others. Men dressed with at least some yellow in their clothing, and marked with ornate tattoos -- some also had golden metal embedded in their flesh, or replacing some appendages, most commonly their jaws.
“Hey, I don’t know-” One such man attempted to approach him before he fell to his knees screaming with his arm parting at the elbow. He howled in shock and agony, prompting the others to take action. There was a quick shout to alert the others while Sukuna crouched before the bleeding man, who clutched at the stump of his arm to stem the bleeding.
He didn’t know who he was attacking. Nor did it truly matter. He didn’t expect them to hold his interest. He was just here to experiment.
“Slickjaws, hm?” Sukuna read the emblem on the man’s jacket as he pushed it to the side, revealing the handle of one of the weapons he had seen. The pops of them filled the air as he directed his wretches forward, storming the building with reckless abandon, too high to even feel themselves dying.
“F-Finn is g-going to…” The man rasped as Sukuna stood, looking over the weapon. Six cylinder barrel, some kind of pressurization chamber, a handle, and a trigger. Taking aim at the man, he pulled the trigger and was rewarded with a small kick before a projectile shot forward and punched through his skull.
“Hmmm… Humans really do create the most interesting things,” Sukuna acknowledged, inspecting the weapon anew. A gun, he recalled they were called. He tossed it to the side, stepping over the corpse as he headed into the building itself. It was located in the heart of the Lane. A manor of some sort that possessed a large glass dome that displayed a garden -- a sign of wealth because it contained the only living plants he had seen in the Undercity.
Stepping inside was a picture of chaos -- the Slickjaws had hardly expected to be attacked, and there was a difference in mentality that made itself known. Those that were prepared to die possessed an undeniable advantage over those that wanted to live. It was for that reason six half dead wretches were getting the better of the defenders -- they attacked relentlessly, only distantly aware of their own mortality, with their every thought filled with what they might gain.
It was almost impressive, in a way. They were throwing it all away for the one thing that they wanted.
But, it would hardly do for his followers to die so early. He was still experimenting with them. So, as he stepped into the manor, projectiles flying between the two sides, he grinned before swiping his hand to the side. A half dozen rōnin fell apart, and those remaining panicked.
“Mage! They got a mage!” One of the remaining rōnin shouted, trying to fall back before Sukuna separated the top of his skull from his head.
“A mage? It seems Law was right, there is magic here,” Sukuna remarked, feeling a twinge of excitement. He would have to experiment with magic himself, but what he’d already seen of it from Tzekel-khan had his interest. It was an avenue worth exploring to reclaim his strength. “I suppose this trip has proven worth the effort already.” As he spoke, he watched as the wretches seized upon the opportunity to press onward deeper into the manor.
They knew where they were going, Sukuna noted with some interest. They pushed past a set of double doors, heading down into the basement- or, rather, what would be the basement in a normal city. The wretches grabbed whatever weapons that they could find, relentlessly pressing forward even as they were struck by the projectiles of the guns. Most of them would die by the end of the day, but he didn't particularly care what happened to them after his end of the binding vow was complete.
What the guards were protecting was a vault. It was one worthy of protecting the emperor's treasures, and Sukuna would know as he’d frequently broken into the Tenno’s vaults to see if they had anything of interest in his younger days. The thick metal hardly stood a chance against Dismantle, cutting it to pieces to reveal what was within.
Weapons. Money. And, most interestingly of all, barrels.
The wretches rushed into the vault, pouncing on the barrels as if they were a predator of some kind, and ripped off the lids to reveal a pinkish purple liquid. Instantly, they devolved into infighting as they greedily drank the liquid, plunging their whole heads in to gulp it down. The effects it had on their bodies was immediate -- their veins pulsed with the liquid, their muscles contorted while their flesh darkened into a grayish purple.
“Hmm,” Sukuna hummed, taking note of the transformation. It was a violent one, the vault filling with the sounds of bones cracking and moans of pain and relief. Some held up better than others, growing in size until they nearly equaled him in height. The broken shells of some men were replaced with powerful bodies covered with glowing veins. Others, however, didn't fare so well. Their bodies broke down, bones contorting at angles, their flesh practically sagging off, and their organs rupturing.
He couldn't tell if it was because their bodies had already been so far gone, or if it was the amount that they had ingested. In any case, Shimmer had his attention.
“Pretty sure Law was looking for something like this,” Sukuna remarked to himself, approaching one of the barrels and peering inside. “Friends give each other things, right?” He questioned no one in particular. He’d never had a ‘friend’ before. The closest he had was Uraume, who lived to serve him. It was a shame he left her behind, Sukuna reflected -- he wanted to use her as a precaution in case Kenjaku got any ideas with the other half of his soul, but she would have been useful to have around.
With a shrug, he grabbed the barrel and tossed it to one of the still remaining wretches. The one that had glasses. “Carry that for me,” He instructed while also inspecting what he came here for.
This was a workable tithe. It was a dry run -- by fulfilling the vow, Sukuna had collected a pittance of cursed energy from his followers. Less than what he would collect from his normal method of terrorizing people, but the loss of quality could be made up for with quantity. A hundred subordinates would match what he collected from a village he slaughtered in around six months. What's more, it would be a consistent collection.
Actually… “How annoying,” Sukuna sighed, realizing that he had walked right into Law's trap. “He was right. Tsk.”
Having subordinates collect the tithe was more efficient. Done right, he could collect cursed energy from the wretches, then use them to harvest cursed energy through their actions -- the pain, fear, and suffering of people that they killed or injured. The thought of it made Sukuna chuckle -- the number of times he heard some fool condemn him, certain that their god would smite him…
Well, it seemed he already had a model to work off of.
“Follow me,” Sukuna commanded, looking at the remaining three wretches. They glanced between each other for a moment before they all grabbed a barrel in each arm and did as bid. He liked the initiative. Perhaps they were worth keeping around. Stepping outside of the vault, he was struck in the head by a projectile -- it failed to pierce his skin, so the act was more offensive than anything.
Glancing down the hall that they walked, Sukuna saw that the trash had blocked their exit. A good two dozen men, all of them taking up positions of cover. The only two that held his attention were the one at the front and the man directly to his side. The smaller one, holding the gun that shot him, looked like a moron. A gold colored leather jacket hung off of his shoulders, his chest and stomach bare except for the tattoos that covered him. His jaw was covered by a golden jaw piece, his black hair pulled back to reveal more tattoos on the side of his head.
“I'll give you credit -- as far as thieves go, you're a bold bunch,” the man said, seemingly unbothered by his weapon doing no damage. With his other hand, he reached into his coat pocket to pull out a pack of smoke sticks. Putting one in his mouth, the second man that held his attention took out a lighter and lit it for him.
The second man was large. Closer to eight feet tall than not. Heavily muscled, wielding a minigun similar to the ones he’d seen in Fallout. His size aside, what made him interesting was the faint glow in his veins. He had taken Shimmer, but his transformation wasn't nearly as… invasive.
“Bold enough that I can't believe you'd risk so much for a little Shimmer,” the man continued, taking in a deep breath of smoke and releasing it. “Even addicts have something resembling self preservation instincts. So, who was it? Did Silco put you up to this?”
Sukuna tilted his head to the side, giving a reaction that the man took as an answer.
“Right on the mark, huh? Suppose it's to be expected, really. The old guard never likes rising stars,” the man said, the top half of his lips twisting into a grin. “I'm honored the old man decided that I'm worthy of assassination already. Even hired a mage to put me down. I think I might blush.” There was confidence in the way he spoke, how he held himself. Sukuna had seen it a thousand times before in fools that thought they had the upper hand -- a hidden dagger up their sleeve that guaranteed their victory.
The tricks got boring after the hundredth time he saw that look. By the thousandth, it wasn't even fun to crush their last hope before their eyes.
Yet, this was a new world. He’d seen every trick in his own world, but in this one? The man very well might have something worthy of his full attention.
“Silco, was it?” Sukuna started, striding forward to the reaction of those blocking their way. “I'll remember the name.” It hadn't exactly been his intention, but it did seem he learned something that would help Yoruichi's mission. This guy, whoever he was, seemed to have a grip on the Shimmer production in this place. Silco was somehow involved in it, enough that he would view this nameless fish as a business rival.
That caught the man off guard, “Then it was one of the other Chem Barons? Why didn't you say so -- now I feel all embarrassed, thinking the boss wanted me dead,” he continued, switching tracks. So, Silco was the boss? Interesting. “In that case, I think we could come to an arrangement, yeah? I'll double whatever they're paying you.”
That got a chuckle out of Sukuna, and the only one that seemed to sense what was about to happen was the big guy. He looked down at the smaller man, his expression of concern, “Boss…”
“How dare you try to order me around,” Sukuna gave his answer before sending out a wave of Dismantle. The attacks were instant, washing over the men and women in the hallway. The random guards were diced into chunks, but the leader himself -- Finn, possibly -- didn't get off so easily. The arm that held the gun was the only part of him that Sukuna targeted. For a moment, nothing happened.
Then gravity took hold and the skin of his arm slid off.
Finn howled in agony, the gun clattering to the floor as raw muscle was exposed to the air. He clutched at his arm, screaming at the top of his lungs, and because of it, he hardly noticed Sukuna's approach. His wide eyes shot up to him, shuffling back as he looked around to only find corpses. He managed to find his voice then, “P-please don't kill me! I h-have money! Shimmer! Girls! Wha-whatever you want, j-just don't kill me!”
“How unsightly,” Sukuna remarked, frowning down at the man. “Even ants have the decency to be silent as they beg for their lives.” Disappointed, Sukuna flayed the rest of his flesh and moved on.
But, it was as his master screamed in agony at being rendered completely skinless that someone Sukuna thought he’d killed began to stir.
The large man started to move, coming to as pinkish steam erupted from the wounds that Sukuna gave him. His body was denser than the others. He hadn't put much power behind the attacks, but it had been enough that he had been fairly sure that it would kill them. “B-boss!” The man started, horror flickering across his face when he saw the flayed state Finn was in. The man already passed out from shock, and it wouldn't be long before his heart gave out.
“Oh?” Sukuna uttered, watching the man stand up despite the wounds.
The man gave a war cry followed by a mindless charge. He rushed towards Sukuna with surprising speed, just not enough to make him a problem. A Dismantle flew and sliced his leg off at the knee, and it almost buckled under the weight. Only for the man to lunge forward -- not at Sukuna, but at the wretches behind him.
His arms rippled with a raw power as he grabbed the head of one of the surprised wretches and slammed it against the wall hard enough the skull shattered under his palm. Blood splashed out, but before the corpse could even fall, the man went for one of the barrels. Sukuna allowed the action, a small grin tugging at his lips as the man ripped off the lid and began to chug the Shimmer. It ran down the corners of his mouth, soaking his shirt, but he managed to chug down a surprising amount of the stuff before tossing away the empty barrel.
“Boss… he… he took me in. He helped me. Fed me! I promised I would protect him!” The man grit out, the transformation taking hold. The words were nothing Sukuna hadn't heard before so he dismissed the pathetic sob story in favor of focusing on the effects the Shimmer had on the brute's body.
He grew larger, his skin darkened and took a purplish hue, as did his eyes. His muscles swelled to the point that his shirt ripped, and his skin nearly did as well under their raw power. His breathing grew harsh and laborious as pink tears dropped from his eyes.
“I see,” Sukuna remarked, his smile growing a fraction. “Is it that the bodies of these pieces of trashe were already so damaged… or is it that you alone can't overdose on this… Shimmer?” He questioned with a tilt of his head, his interest rising.
“I'll kill you!” The man roared, rushing forth with a burst of speed.
“Dismantle,” Sukuna dismissed, the slashes cutting him and his charge off at the legs. Steam erupted from the wounds, flesh and bone growing from the stumps. Even as he fell, the man crawled forth, murder in his eyes as tears streamed down his face. So, Sukuna took off his arms as well. “It's not RCT, but you're regenerating pretty fast. Not bad,” he praised.
“I'll kill you! I'll kill you!” The man howled, squirming forward, determined to fight Sukuna even if he had to gnaw on his ankles.
“That's a good attitude to have. You were wasted on this trash,” Sukuna praised, stepping forward and slamming the man's head into the ground hard enough that the stone cracked. “You got a name?”
The man simply thrashed under his foot, determined to fight. Yes, that was a nice attitude. He didn't have anything as interesting as a cursed technique, but his reaction to Shimmer was worthy of his attention. At least until he understood it better. In that case… “How about this, then? I want you to serve me -- completely and utterly. If you agree, I'll make sure that moron doesn't die from the wounds that I gave him.”
The struggling ceased instantly and he barely needed to think about it, “Do you promise?”
“It's a binding vow. If I break it, then I'm the one that suffers the consequences,” Sukuna replied. Of course, this would be a simple one to get around. He just had to have someone else kill the fool. Maybe his loyal subordinate himself if he became deserving of a punishment.
The man nodded, “I'll agree! But… please… save him!” He begged as Sukuna lifted his foot. The binding vow took hold and Sukuna merely smirked. Walking over to the man, he pressed a hand to the exposed muscle and used reversed cursed technique on him. In response, as positive energy flowed into him, his skin began to rapidly regrow. He was lacking any tattoos, or hair, but beyond that he might as well be good as new.
His newest toy crawled over, sobbing with relief. Finn was unconscious, and likely would be for some time from of the shock. Sukuna approached from behind, dropping an arm over the man's shoulder, making him stiffen and choke off a sob. “You never gave me your name,” Sukuna remarked lightly.
The man must have felt a tug at the vow because there was a flicker of fear in his eyes that wasn't just because of Sukuna. “E-Edmundo. Everyone just calls me Mundo.”
What a ridiculous name. “Welcome to the Cult of Curses, Mundo. From here on out, I'm your new god. I don't accept prayers of mercy… and as one of my chosen, neither will you.”
This ought to be entertaining.
