The vengeful spirit of Himiko left the blood-soaked ruins of her clan behind and simply… wandered.
She had no destination. No goal. No thoughts beyond the endless hunger for more shards, more vengeance, more pain.
For weeks she drifted across the countryside like a storm that had forgotten where it was going. She moved through dense forests, over misty mountains, and across forgotten roads. Sometimes she would stand motionless for days at a time in the middle of a field, black shards slowly orbiting her porcelain body while the wind howled around her.
She killed without purpose.
A lone woodcutter. A small farming village. A group of traveling monks. A minor sorcerer clan's scouting party. Every time she struck, more black grudge shards ripped out of her victims and joined the growing storm around her. She never stayed long enough to watch them die — she simply moved on, leaving behind silent corpses and shattered lives.
She crossed rivers. She climbed cliffs. She slept in ruined temples and hollowed-out caves. The rage inside her had cooled into something colder, something more hollow. She wasn't hunting anymore. She was just… existing. A monster with no home, no name, no future.
Until one stormy night.
Heavy rain hammered the earth as lightning cracked across the sky. The vengeful spirit lumbered through the downpour, her cracked porcelain body glowing faintly with every flash of lightning. Then she saw it — the Sando Clan estate, proud and well-lit, its high walls standing defiant against the storm.
She charged.
The gates exploded inward. Alarms rang out across the compound as sorcerers poured into the courtyard, cursed energy blazing.
"It's a curse! Defend the estate! Protect our home!"
The Sando Clan fought desperately — they were fighting for their lives and everything they owned.
Their innate technique was Sand Manipulation. Every member of the clan used a variation of the same power.
The first group slammed their hands into the muddy ground.
"Sand Manipulation: Quicksand Pit!"
The entire courtyard turned into a massive sinking pit of wet sand, trying to swallow the spirit whole.
Another group took to the air, spinning their hands rapidly.
"Sand Manipulation: Razor Cyclone!"
Vicious spinning tornadoes of razor-sharp sand sliced across her porcelain body, carving deep grooves and cracks.
The Sando Clan leader stood on the steps of the main hall, voice booming over the thunder:
"Do not let it reach the hall! Bury it! Tear it apart!"
More sorcerers joined the assault. Some created massive sand fists that slammed down like hammers, others formed sand spears that fired like arrows. One elite sorcerer even turned the falling rain into hardened sand bullets mid-air, pelting the spirit from every angle.
The spirit staggered under the barrage. Her porcelain shell cracked further. Sand filled every crevice, grinding against her from the inside. For a moment, it looked like the Sando Clan's coordinated defense might actually hold her back.
The Sando leader saw his chance.
"Keep the pressure on! Don't give it a single opening!"
The sorcerers doubled down — more quicksand pits opened beneath her, more razor cyclones tore at her body, and sand bullets rained down like a storm.
The vengeful spirit suddenly lurched backward, ripping herself free from the worst of the sand. She created distance between herself and the clan, her jagged maw opening wide as black shards began swirling violently around her.
She pulled one of the freshly harvested grudge shards from her body and hurled it forward — not at a single target, but into the heart of the clustered sorcerers.
The shard struck the ground and detonated.
A devastating soul-rupture exploded outward in a wide shockwave. Black cracks spread across the ground and through the air like shattering glass. The rupture tore into the souls of every sorcerer caught in its range.
And then something new happened.
The moment the rupture hit them, Harvest triggered automatically.
Dozens of black grudge shards violently ripped out of their bodies at once and began orbiting them for a single second.
The spirit didn't hesitate.
She detonated every single one of those newly harvested shards instantly.
A chain reaction of soul-ruptures erupted across the courtyard — explosion after explosion, each one feeding the next. The chained detonations turned the battlefield into a storm of shattering souls. Sorcerers screamed as their bodies cracked open from the inside, shards flying in every direction before being pulled straight to the spirit.
The Sando leader's eyes widened in horror.
"What kind of technique is this…?!"
The chained ruptures tore through his remaining fighters in seconds. The once-coordinated defense collapsed into chaos. The spirit moved forward again, now unstoppable, crushing the few survivors with brutal efficiency.
The Sando leader was the last one standing.
He stood alone on the steps of the main hall, sand swirling weakly around his shaking hands, his voice barely a whisper against the rain.
"…We fought… for our home…"
The spirit's jagged maw opened wide.
She slammed him into the ground with one final, merciless strike.
When the storm finally passed, the Sando Estate was silent.
Every member of the clan lay dead. The courtyard was a graveyard of sand, blood, and shattered bodies. The grand compound was now hers — broken, bloodstained, and empty.
The vengeful spirit climbed the steps of the main hall, shards still humming violently around her. At the far end sat the raised platform and the old, ornate throne.
She moved toward it.
Slowly, heavily, the monstrous mass of porcelain climbed the steps and lowered herself onto the throne for the first time.
The moment her body settled onto the ancient seat, something inside her changed.
A violent surge of cursed energy pulsed through her. Her massive, blob-like form began to shift and compress. The chaotic, sprawling mass of porcelain started to shrink and reshape itself.
She became smaller.
More humanoid.
Her body condensed into a tall, monstrous figure — still clearly inhuman, still grotesque, but now vaguely resembling the woman she once was. Cracked white porcelain skin covered a more defined torso, long jagged limbs, and a head with a gaping, jagged maw where her face should be. The hundreds of black grudge shards still orbited her, but now they moved with more purpose, almost like a crown of darkness.
For the first time since her death, her body was stable enough to speak.
A low, distorted, feminine voice echoed through the empty hall — layered, broken, and filled with rage.
"…Mine…"
The word came out raspy and unnatural, like glass scraping against glass, but it was clear.
She had spoken.
The vengeful spirit slowly raised one jagged hand, staring at her newly formed fingers. The shards around her hummed in response, almost like they were acknowledging their new master.
She was no longer just a wandering curse.
She had claimed her first throne.
And the land itself began to answer.
From the shadows of the blood-soaked estate, weak curses began to appear — small, twisted things drawn to her overwhelming presence like moths to a dying flame.
One tiny curse, barely the size of a rat, crawled across the cracked floor and stopped trembling at the foot of her throne.
The spirit looked down at the pathetic creature… and chose not to kill it.
The tiny curse quickly scurried into her shadow and hid there.
That single act of mercy marked the true beginning.
Her court was starting to form.
Her jagged maw moved again, wanting to further test the new voice that had formed.
"…Court…"
The word came out rough and broken, but it carried weight. She repeated it, almost tasting the idea.
"Court… is… mine."
A low, distorted laugh escaped her — cold, hollow, and filled with something that almost sounded like satisfaction.
She raised one porcelain hand. The orbiting black shards responded instantly, swirling faster around her newly formed crown-like halo.
From the dark corners of the ruined hall, more weak curses began to emerge. Fly-headed things, twisted shadows, and small grotesque spirits — all of them drawn to her like iron to a magnet. They didn't attack. They didn't flee. They simply gathered at the base of her throne, staring up at her with strange, hungry reverence.
She looked down at the growing swarm and spoke once more, her voice gaining a little more strength.
"You… will serve."
The weak curses buzzed and chittered in response, pressing themselves lower to the ground in submission.
For the first time since her execution, the vengeful spirit felt something close to purpose.
She was no longer aimlessly wandering.
She had a throne.
She had a voice.
The spirit sat in silence, her newly formed humanoid shape still grotesque and unfinished. Cracks ran across her porcelain skin like old fractures that refused to heal. Her jagged maw moved again, the voice coming out clearer this time, though still layered and unnatural.
"More…"
She raised one long, porcelain arm. The black grudge shards orbiting her head pulsed in response, and the entire ruined hall seemed to answer her call. From the broken windows, from the cracks in the floor, from the shadows beneath the fallen beams — more weak curses poured in.
beams — more weak curses poured in.
Dozens of them. Fly-headed spirits, twisted shadow imps, crawling things with too many limbs. They swarmed into the hall, filling the space with a low, constant buzzing and skittering. The hall that had once belonged to the proud Sando Clan was now overflowing with monsters.
The spirit watched them all, her faceless maw slowly tilting as she observed her growing collection.
For hours she simply sat there, letting them come to her. Every new curse that entered the hall felt her power and chose to stay. None dared to challenge her. None tried to flee.
As the night dragged on, the spirit slowly lifted one jagged porcelain hand.
She focused, and a single black grudge shard slid out from within her body, floating just above her palm. The shard pulsed with dark, condensed malice — a crystallized fragment of pure hatred and regret.
She stared at it.
For a long time, she simply… studied it.
The shard hovered there, rotating slowly in the moonlight that filtered through the broken roof. Its surface was rough, jagged, almost like shattered obsidian mixed with dried blood. She could feel the raw emotion trapped inside it — the terror of the Sando sorcerers, their desperate will to protect their home, their final moments of betrayal and fear.
She tilted her head, the jagged maw opening slightly as she examined it from every angle. She moved her hand, and the shard followed obediently, orbiting her fingers. She brought it closer, then pushed it farther away, testing how it responded to her will.
This was the first time she had truly looked at one of these shards with anything resembling curiosity instead of blind rage.
She had been collecting them for weeks — ripping them from every soul she slaughtered — but she had only ever stored them inside her body. She had never truly understood what they were… or what they could do.
Now, sitting on her newly claimed throne, something ancient and calculating was waking up inside her.
She brought the shard even closer to her jagged maw. The bitter, metallic scent of old blood filled the air around her. The shard seemed to pulse faster the nearer it got to her mouth.
She hesitated.
Then, with slow, deliberate intent, she opened her maw wider… and placed the shard inside.
The moment it touched what remained of her tongue, a violent reaction occurred.
The shard dissolved instantly, flooding her body with a surge of cursed energy. It wasn't a massive amount — only a small but clearly noticeable increase in her total cursed energy volume. She felt it like a cold current running through her fractured form, strengthening her, stabilizing her.
The sensation was bitter. Acrid. Like drinking congealed blood mixed with shattered glass.
But it felt… right.
She immediately pulled out a second shard, then a third. She studied each one just as carefully, turning them over in her palm, watching how they reacted to her focus. Then, one by one, she brought them to her maw and swallowed them.
With every shard she consumed, her cursed energy volume grew — only by tiny increments, but each one was noticeable. The more she ate, the clearer her thoughts became. The more control she gained over her new, partially humanoid body.
Her distorted voice echoed through the hall, stronger now.
"Power… from their… hatred."
She crushed another shard between her fingers before swallowing it, feeling the rush of energy settle deeper inside her core.
The weak curses at her feet watched in silent awe as their new master fed on the crystallized grudges of the dead.
She continued for hours.
Shard after shard. One by one. Studying them, testing them, then consuming them. Each one added a little more cursed energy to her growing pool. Each one made her feel slightly more stable, slightly more complete.
By the time the first light of dawn began to creep through the broken roof, the spirit had consumed nearly two dozen shards. Her voice had grown smoother. Her movements were more precise. The constant violent humming of the shards around her had settled into a low, steady rhythm.
She sat back on the throne, surrounded by her growing swarm of weak curses, and spoke once more — her voice still monstrous, but carrying a cold, regal weight.
"This… is only the beginning."