Ryomen Sukuna

The scent of ash, blood, burning flesh, and suffering had hung in the Japanese air for days that felt endless. Perhaps even centuries. Sukuna had annihilated hundreds of sorcerers who attempted to fight him, though not without sustaining terrible wounds.

Sukuna drifted back to consciousness, his entire body aching with pain. He couldn't say for certain where he was. He turned his head slightly, his four red eyes scanning his surroundings with piercing intensity. Then, memories came crashing into his still-recovering mind—memories of losing consciousness after his victory over a massive horde of sorcerers.

He remembered being on the brink of death, but that did not trouble him. So, how had he ended up here? He certainly hadn't come here of his own volition; no, at this moment, he could barely feel his legs. Had Uraume brought him here? No, he could no longer sense Uraume's cursed energy. Someone else must have pulled him from the battlefield.

Sukuna's body throbbed, but his gaze narrowed as he saw a figure approaching his weakened form. He wouldn't have minded dying in the very war he had unleashed, but now, everything had changed because of You.

— You... he rasped, a low growl tearing from the depths of his throat.

Sukuna was no fool. He could deduce that someone had saved him, but he did not understand why. Regardless, he didn't particularly care. Sukuna knew only one thing: he did not want to be in anyone's debt.