Makima stood atop Tokyo Tower, the evening wind ruffling her long hair. She watched that four-armed being on the distant Shinjuku battlefield, a cold curve appearing at the corner of her lips.
In her hand, she held a severed finger—a medium for the "Hell Devil Contract" recorded and retrieved from the deepest containment vault of the Public Safety Devil Extermination Special Division.
"Sukuna-sama, please accept this 'gift'." She whispered, biting her fingertip and letting a drop of blood fall onto that withered, severed finger.
The severed finger suddenly revitalized, turning into countless black silk threads that pierced into Makima's arm like living things, sucking greedily.
As a price, dense phantoms belonging to the "Japanese citizens" emerged behind her—each phantom representing a contract, a life that could die for her.
The Gates of Hell opened silently beneath Sukuna's feet. It wasn't a traditional summoning array, but a displacement at the conceptual level.
Using 120 million national contracts as the price and the authority of the hell Devil as a bridge, the two concepts of "the strongest Cursed Spirit" and "Hell" were forcibly anchored and swapped.
Sukuna was currently crushing the skull of a Special Grade Cursed Spirit when he suddenly felt an absolute void coming from beneath his feet. It wasn't a spatial rift, nor a teleportation technique, but something more fundamental—his "existence here" was being negated.
"Oh?"
His four eyes narrowed simultaneously as he looked toward Makima atop the distant tower.
In the next moment, the night view of Tokyo, the smoke, and the ruins were stripped from his vision like a fading oil painting. Replacing them were a crimson sky, a black earth, and a pervasive, never-dissipating smell of despair and blood in the air.
Hell.
Countless pairs of eyes opened from the blood-red mist, looking at this "foreign object" that had suddenly intruded, radiating delicious Cursed Energy.
Sukuna lowered his head and looked beneath his feet—there was no shadow there. Hell had no need for things like shadows.
He let out a wild laugh. "Hahahahaha! Interesting! Too interesting! That woman! To actually use such a method!"
He spread his four arms and took a deep breath of Hell's air, which was filled with the scent of sulfur and decay.
"So, what are the rules here? Slaughter? Devouring? Or..."
His crimson eyes swept over those various devils gradually emerging from the mist. "Pure survival of the fittest?"
The first wave to pounce were tens of thousands of low-level devils known as trash." Their forms were twisted, some looked like skinned beasts, some like masses of flesh stitched from countless limbs, and some were simply wriggling clumps of viscera covered in eyes.
Sukuna didn't even bother using his Cursed Technique, he simply walked forward. Wherever he passed, those devils were sliced, turning into a sky full of blood-rain and meat chunks.
It wasn't a simple slash, but something more terrifying—the space around him itself was rejecting their "existence."
The Domain belonging to the King of Curses, even when not expanded, instinctively repelled these native dregs of Hell.
He walked very slowly, as if taking a stroll. Blood and minced meat paved a crimson carpet behind him.
More devils emerged from the mist. This time, some named fellows appeared.
The Katana Devil swung down a thousand-meter-long serrated blade. Sukuna raised his hand, catching the edge with two fingers and then lightly snapping it.
Crack!
That legendary blade that had slain countless devils and humans shattered like fragile glass.
The Gun Devil set up its organ gun barrels several kilometers away, firing bullets. Sukuna didn't even turn his head, just casually waving his hand backward—the bullets suspended and disintegrated a hundred meters from him, as if crashing into an invisible wall.
Then came those primal horrors.
The Darkness Devil emerged from absolute darkness, attempting to drag Sukuna into an eternal, silent void. Sukuna's four eyes opened simultaneously in the dark, emitting a red light of malice that was deeper than the darkness, and then he tore that darkness apart like ripping an old newspaper.
The authority of the Control Devil tried to invade his consciousness, only to be bounced away by a more overbearing ego. Sukuna's soul was a crystal condensed from a millennium of Curses, the fear of billions, and the will of the strongest, nothing could control him except himself.
The Death Devil brought the concept of the "
End, the manifestation of the termination of all things.
Watching that absolute silence approach, which could even swallow light, Sukuna showed a serious expression.
"Not bad."
Then, he opened his mouth. Not an opening of the mouth in the ordinary sense, but that giant mouth on his abdomen suddenly tore through reality, expanding into a hundred-meter diameter black hole lined with sharp teeth.
And so, that concept of "Ending," that manifestation of the end of all things, that "Death" itself which even devils feared, was eaten by him.
Crushed, swallowed, digested.
"The taste..." Sukuna licked his lips, his four crimson eyes glowing frighteningly bright.
"It's a bit bitter, but the aftertaste is endless."
He continued walking forward.
Hell has no concept of time, perhaps hours passed, or perhaps centuries. Sukuna didn't know how many devils he had killed, how many concepts he had devoured, or how many manifestations of fear he had crushed. He only knew that the mountain of corpses beneath his feet grew higher, and the sea of blood grew deeper.
He fought his way to the deepest part of Hell.
That was the longest, yet also the shortest battle since the birth of Hell.
Long, because the authorities utilized by both sides had touched upon the levels of "concepts" and "laws," where every collision was enough to rewrite local rules of Hell.
Short, because...
Sukuna never took a single step back.
Finally, he stood atop the ruins, beneath his feet the dissipating remains of a Primal Devil.
The entirety of Hell was trembling, wailing, and submitting.
The crimson sky was dyed by a deeper dark red belonging to Sukuna. Upon the black earth, countless twisted Cursed Sigils belonging to "Ryomen Sukuna" emerged.
The devils of Hell, whether strong or weak, near or far, all prostrated toward this direction.
Sukuna raised his new four arms, now covered in the dual markings of Hell and Curses, and took a deep breath. Then, toward the sky of Hell, he threw a punch. Not at the air, but at the concept of "Hell" itself.
"I have stayed long enough. Open the door."
Hell refused but the refusal was futile. After all, the refusal itself was negated by a stronger "will."
And so, the sky cracked open. Not a rift, but a massive hole with edges burning with flames. On the other side of the hole was the familiar starry sky belonging to the human world.
Sukuna took a step out, his figure vanishing into the hole. Behind him, the sky of Hell was permanently left with a massive crack in the shape of a fist print. Within the crack flowed a dark red Curse belonging to Sukuna, like the mark of this new King of Hell.