Reaper-Hunter Senshi recoiled as his senses were violently shocked with an onslaught of... nothingness. An overwhelming and absolute nothingness that, more than anything, reminded him somewhat of the presence of a Cullexus Assassin or a Sister of Silence, but... far greater than any he'd encountered before, because that hadn't just been a hole into which Cursed Energy flowed but can overflow. No, that... energy, whatever it was, had been bottomless, an infinite darkness from which nothing could escape. He'd reinforced himself with Domain Amplification and even coated his whole body in Cursed Augmentation; his Power Armor, enhanced after centuries of wars, was a Cursed Tool meant to disperse kinetic energy enough to render even Bolters ineffective.
And yet, whatever that Curse User did had bypassed all his defenses and made a fool out of him. Despite that, however, Senshi had learned a valuable lesson: he was far from his goal of earning the rank of Reaper-Killer. Though, to be certain, that Cursed User's Innate Technique was... so freakishly powerful that Senshi doubted even someone like the Reaper-Lord could defeat him. And, even then, that... thing the Cursed User did with his Cursed Energy, altering its property so that it became... null and void... well... Senshi wasn't sure if something like that even had a counter. It was emptiness itself, a manifestation of Universal Entropy.
Only the great father of the Devourers himself, perhaps, could've attained a much greater understanding of what in the blazes he'd just fought against.
Senshi pushed himself up and shook his head. All around him were wires, tubes, and cursed talismans, all of it meant to supplement his Cursed Technique: Clone Puppet, allowing him to use it across interstellar distances. By its very name, Senshi's Cursed Technique allowed him to create a true clone of himself, identical in every way, including the shape of the soul, to attach his consciousness to. It wasn't, perhaps, the most powerful Innate Technique, but it did have plenty of benefits, like the fact that, as long as his original body and soul remained untouched, then he was functionally immortal or the fact that the Cursed Energies accumulated by his clone would make its way back to him once they died.
Of course, with the destruction of his clone's soul, that probably wasn't going to happen. Still, that he lived now, despite the fact that something of that magnitude should've killed him, was a blessing. It meant the Great Father was looking down on him, urging him forward as he did with all those who carried his will. And Primarch Ryomen Sukuna's will was rather simple: the strong will do what they want and the weak will cower.
Senshi was far from the strongest, but he certainly wasn't weak.
Still, it was supposed to be a simple raid on a relatively weak Craftworld. The odds were on their side. They had the advantage of numbers and raw power, and the Mechanicus were one of the few factions that their Primarch had marked off as 'reliable', mostly due to their cold and logical indifference, and their inability to feel fear and dread. The Adeptus Mechanicus had gathered such a large force after hearing rumors that the Craftworld of Yme-Loc held relics and artifacts of human origin, dating back to before the Great Night. Senshi wasn't sure if that piece of information was even remotely correct and he honestly didn't care. Reaper-Hunters, like himself, had a role of going out into the wider galaxy and achieving great feats of bravery, strength, and intelligence, enough to earn them the rank of Reaper-Killer, wherein the Reaper-Lord himself welcomed them back into the fold. Senshi hadn't expected a particularly difficult battle. He'd faced numerous Aeldari before and, all things considered, they weren't too difficult to deal with, especially with Cursed Augmentation and Reverse Cursed Technique.
What Senshi and, no doubt, the now-dead Mechanicus Tech-Priests, was for more than half of their forces, their vessels, manpower, and resources, to be destroyed by an Eldar superweapon before they could even begin a ground invasion. All their advantages practically vanished before they ever reached the Craftworld. Still, the their titan legions mostly intact, the Tech-Priests called for a ground invasion, nonetheless. And, knowing what they knew, Senshi couldn't quite fault them for their decision. Even he would've done the same. But then, as they rained from orbit and tore into their world, the Aeldari, yet again, unleashed a new brand of destruction Senshi hadn't faced before.
Black holes or... something close to them, suddenly appeared over the Eldar skies, decimating their ground troops. He'd felt the flickers of Cursed Energy, right then and there, and Senshi knew that they were dealing with a Curse User far above any the Imperium had ever faced before, beyond even Special Grade. Senshi knew he was outmatched before he even landed. His Cursed Technique was not suited for dueling and his Domain Expansion, at best, was a means by which Senshi could summon more clones of himself, each one lesser in mind, perhaps, but each one was a body he could hop into in the case of death, allowing him to transfer his consciousness up to ten times in a single battlefield.
Of course, that didn't happen. Senshi found himself quickly overwhelmed and outmatched. The part that really stung was that he knew, for a fact, that the Curse User hadn't even been trying – not really. Senshi hadn't seen a single ounce of effort in that man's verdant blue eyes, only something akin to boredom and disappointment.
Well, all his plans were ruined now and it was all thanks to that white-haired Curse User.
On the bright side, the remote recorder on his armor was active at the time and had been able to transmit battlefield data, including the face of the Curse User, who – once Senshi submitted his armor's data to the Devourers' Cursed Network – was about to become the most infamous Curse User in the Imperium. After all, this was the first time one ever joined hands with the Eldar. Most Curse Users made a mess of themselves and everyone around them, but Senshi couldn't recall any of them joining hands with xenos – at least, not willingly.
He supposed, the real question was: where did that Curse User even come from?
It was no question that the strongest Jujutsu Sorcerers came from Shibuya, the homeworld of the Primarch Ryomen Sukuna himself. It was ruled, as far as Senshi was aware, by the Great Jujutsu Clans, who held a monopoly over the training and production of Jujutsu Sorcerers. The most powerful Curse Users had been those who turned and ran away from Shibuya, hiding away in cargo ships and whatnot and stealing off to distant worlds, weaklings. That white-haired Curse User, however... if he'd been born in Shibuya, then he would've had no need to run away. The Devourers recruited the strongest, but they didn't force them. That Curse User had no reason to run away, assuming he was from the Great Clans. He would've been hailed as the greatest and the strongest of his generation. Certainly, Senshi knew, very few could match such raw power.
And so, the only explanation was that the Curse User was likely born outside of Shibuya, on a distant-enough planet, and was likely raised by other Curse Users, who taught him to harness his incredible power. How or why the man joined with Eldar, Senshi didn't think he'd ever know and, frankly, he didn't care enough to know. If he could, Senshi would prefer to never encounter that Curse User ever again. That... nothingness left a scar on his soul that no amount of Reverse Cursed Technique could ever heal. That his consciousness was able to escape before his clone's soul-death had been a miracle. He may not be as lucky the next time.
Sighing, Senshi pushed himself out of his Divine Pool, removing the wires and tubes still attached to him as he did, and walked right out. Before anything else, he needed to access the Cursed Network and send his Power Armor's data to the Devourers Information Collective.
The Cursed Network, a secret that was known only to the upper echelons of Jujutsu Society, kept secret even from the High Lords and Inquisitors, was simply a means by which Jujutsu Sorcerers could instantly transmit data over immense distances. No one knew how it was built or how it worked, only that the Primarch Ryomen Sukuna designed it himself, the last gift he ever granted his children, before those damnable Necrons captured and sealed him away.
With a flick of a switch, the press of a button, and the usage of enough Cursed Energy to spawn a Cursed Spirit, Senshi transmitted the battlefield data into the Cursed Collective, his mind still lingering on the encounter with the white-haired Curse User. The flicker of nothingness haunted him, and he knew it would be some time before he could shake the memory of that all-consuming void. What the hell was even that? He'd faced Cullexus Assassins before, completely by accident, and not even their power could compare. The data upload completed with a soft chime, and Senshi allowed himself a moment of relief, knowing that the Devourers' Information Collective would soon analyze every fragment of the encounter. If there was a way to counteract that horrifying power, the higher ups would find it. If not, then it wasn't his problem anymore.
He sighed, rolling his shoulders to relieve some of the lingering tension. The room around him was dimly lit, the walls adorned with talismans and ancient sigils, all thrumming with a faint glow of Cursed Energy. This sanctum, his sanctuary, suddenly felt stifling. He needed space, distance from the constant pressure of his duties and the overwhelming weight of the recent defeat.
Senshi made his way to the chamber's exit, his footsteps echoing softly against the cold, metallic floor. As he walked, his mind raced through the implications of the battle data. The Imperium needed to be warned about this new threat, but for now, his part in that process was done. He had fulfilled his immediate duty, and now he needed to address something he had been neglecting for far too long: his own well-being.
One of the few... odd things that Primarch Sukuna taught the Devourers was the concept of a 'vacation', something no other Astartes seemed to enjoy. Indeed, their records indicated that even other Primarchs found this to be odd or downright silly. Still, the Great Father himself insisted. And so, for one whole year, once every decade, Devourers were entitled to a vacation, during which they could do just about anything they wanted, catch up on old hobbies, visit friends and family, or just sit and stare at a wall and do nothing at all.
After serving without taking a single vacation for over a hundred years, Senshi had earned himself a decade of vacation time. And, ultimately, being a Reaper-Hunter, no one was going to miss him anyway.
Emerging into a broader hallway of Aizu, the floating fortress of the Reapers, Senshi encountered several of his comrades. They nodded respectfully, recognizing the strain etched into his features. His reputation as a formidable Reaper-Hunter remained intact, but even the strongest warriors needed respite. He acknowledged their greetings with a curt nod. It'd been... maybe three years since he last emerged from his personal chambers. The nature of his Innate Technique meant he really didn't get out much. He didn't need to.
"Ah, brother Senshi," One of his closest brothers, Brother Laios, greeted him. "You've awakened. I take it your clone was destroyed again? Was it by a monster? Please, tell me you've discovered another one."
"No," Senshi shook his head. Brother Laios was... oddly interested in monstrous xenos, especially the ones on worlds like Catachan or Tyranids. It was a miracle he was here at all, instead of being out there, chasing after monstrous creatures. Brother Laios turned away from... wherever he was walking towards and decided to walk with him. "A Curse User killed it – very powerful. I'm just about to file for a vacation."
AN: Chapter 39 is out on (Pat)reon!