Sukuna's voice echoed in the empty classroom, laying out the world-building, main characters, and key settings of Jujutsu Kaisen.
The version he told was naturally polished and emphasized from the perspective of "Ryomen Sukuna."
Sukuna's power, unpredictability, and that cruel charm that stood above all living beings were highlighted.
The brilliant, imaginative battle scenes and Cursed Technique settings in the story made Eriri's eyes light up. Her professional instinct as an artist immediately made her conceive countless shocking storyboards in her mind.
Megumi also listened very intently, her eyes sparkling, clearly drawn into this vast and self-consistent fantasy world.
Although Utaha's body was temporarily "borrowed," she listened to Sukuna's narration with a clear consciousness. As a professional author, she immediately sensed the immense potential of this story—a novel power system, a vivid cast of characters, a tension-filled conflict between good and evil, and the core symbol of Sukuna, full of dangerous charm.
If it were adapted into a manga and presented with Eriri's solid drawing skills...
"How is it?"
Sukuna finished the general framework and the early climax, stopping his speech as his four eyes swept over the dumbfounded Eriri and the contemplative Megumi.
"Is this story worthy of being the blueprint to make the name 'Ryomen Sukuna' resonate throughout this era?"
Eriri was already too excited to speak. She just nodded frantically, her hands clenched into fists, wishing she could pick up her pen and start creating right away.
She had always dreamed of becoming a great mangaka, but her poor plotting skills meant she could only act as a doujinshi artist. Now, with a high-quality manga plot ready-made, this was her chance to realize her dream.
Megumi let out a soft breath, looked at Sukuna, and said calmly, "It's a wonderful story, Sukuna-san. If it's well-produced, it certainly has the potential to become a hit. However, to adapt such a vast story into a manga and successfully launch it requires a very thorough plan. Character designs, plot pacing, art style, submission channels, even pen names and a studio... everything needs careful consideration."
"Those are problems for you to solve." Sukuna's tone became lazy again, but with a certainty that said the matter was settled.
"I will provide the core and realism of the story, Sawamura will be responsible for the art, and Kasumigaoka will handle the script polishing and dialogue. For funding and promotion, the Sawamura Family can contribute. As for whether it will succeed..."
He controlled the mouth on Utaha's face to split into an ambitious smile.
After finishing the discussion about the manga, Sukuna suddenly thought of his defeat while recalling the plot.
That was his defeat in the true sense. It wasn't due to a lack of power, but originated from a more fundamental and shameful weakness—the irreconcilable conflict between the incarnated body and the soul.
At that moment, the "Incarnation" mechanism he relied on for survival and plunder became his most fragile Achilles' heel.
"Hmph..."
Sukuna let out a low, cold snort on his throne, his four crimson eyes flashing with a cold and sober light.
A loss was a loss, he never deigned to look for excuses. Being struck down by someone grasping his weakness, under the law of the jungle, meant he was simply inferior.
In the original plot, he had also chosen another way of life—reincarnation.
However, at this moment, this temporarily forgotten hidden danger was brought to the table again. His original meticulous plan, targeting Fushiguro Megumi's excellent body with the "Ten Shadows Technique," seemed full of uncertainty now.
Megumi's soul was extremely resilient and his will was firm. He was by no means a vessel that could be easily suppressed or merged. Forcibly occupying it might grant temporary power, but it was very likely to repeat the same mistake, exposing that fatal gap again in a new battle.
"Fushiguro Megumi's body is indeed one of the best choices, but it's not foolproof." Sukuna assessed calmly, as if evaluating a flawed weapon.
"The method of incarnation is essentially a cuckoo occupying another's nest. No matter how perfect the fit, there's always the risk of being backlashed by the original owner's soul or rejection from the foreign soul. Building the foundation of resurrection and even future power on such a inherently flawed method is not a wise move."
This realization made him temporarily reject the plan to incarnate into Megumi.
Then, questions followed: besides the shortcut of "Incarnation," which was full of hidden dangers, what other method could allow him to obtain a body that belonged 100% to "Ryomen Sukuna," from soul to flesh?
The most ideal way, naturally, was to create a brand-new body tailored for his soul.
Cloning? Cloning his body? Sukuna didn't know if the technology of this era had reached that level.
A Devil's body?
Sukuna thought of the reward given to him by the system, but the devil concepts he had acquired so far were too few and too weak to carry his power.
Is there any other way to resurrect?
— — —
In an inconspicuous corner of an izakaya somewhere in Tokyo, a cloth curtain walled off the bustle of the outside world, as well as a certain non-human presence.
A lantern cast a dim yellow glow, illuminating two incongruous figures sitting on opposite sides of a small square table.
On one side was Jogo, a Cursed Spirit with a head like an erupting Mount Fuji and a single eye glowing with the luster of molten lava. His massive frame seemed somewhat cramped in the small space, but the scorching and violent Cursed Energy of a Special Grade Cursed Spirit radiating from him warped the surrounding air with its heat. A cup of sake sat before him, but he was clearly uninterested in it.
On the other side sat a man dressed in an ancient-style monk's robe, with shoulder-length black hair and a refined, elegant demeanor. Most striking was the clear scar on his forehead, resembling surgical stitches.
A faint, non-committal smile was present on his lips as he leisurely poured himself some wine, as if he were merely chatting with an old friend.
He was Kenjaku, a conspirator who had lived for over a thousand years, hidden behind countless identities and skins.
"Sukuna..." Jogo's low voice, filled with the rumbling static of flowing lava, broke the silence as his single eye fixed on Kenjaku.
"According to what you said about the resonance of those fingers, the King of Curses should have already awakened somewhere in this era, right?"
Kenjaku took a light sip of the sake, his Adam's apple bobbing. His smile remained unchanged as he said, "Yes. Although the specific timing and location differ slightly from the script we originally designed around that child, Itadori Yuji... it is outside the plan, yet still within it."
His tone carried a sense of all-encompassing composure, yet held a trace of subtle amusement.