Sukuna gleefully laughed as his fist shattered into flecks of bone, flesh, skin, and sinew after meeting and colliding against Skarbrand's own fist. The Cursed Spirit's hand shattered as well, though neither of them cared to react or notice. They regenerated their missing appendages, before – once again – engaging in a brutal slug fest, using only their fists, feet, teeth, and claw. Skarbrand did it first, however, abandoning both of his axes and tossing them aside before charging right towards him, screaming and frothing like a crazed berserker. He thought little of it at first; but, at some point, Sukuna abandoned his use of Cursed Techniques, mostly because he'd likely run out of Cursed Energy before Skarbrand keeled over and died like a good little dog.
But, also because fighting such a visceral fight, using only the strength and power of his new body, which regenerated like crazy even without the use of Positive Energy – and it was only becoming even stronger – seemed way more fun than a battle between sorcerers. After all, how long has it been since his last slug fest? Too long, honestly. Martial Arts, his old mentors stressed again and again, was a necessity for every Jujutsu Sorcerer and Sukuna was no exception. It helped quite a lot, then, that his new body was absolutely ridiculous. It was made for violence and carnage, he realized, growing at an accelerated pace whenever he was pushed to the absolute brink of his capabilities. Even now, as he swung down and sent a kick into Skarbrand's exposed jaw, Sukuna felt his abilities changing.
And that was problematic, because, while he welcomed the shift in power and the overall higher growth ceiling, it also meant that he was no longer a master of what he could do; heck, he wasn't even entirely sure now of what he was capable of. And that meant that the safest and easiest option was to simply duke it out with the angry Cursed Spirit until one of them died.
"Yes! Yes! Give me more!" Skarbrand howled in manic enjoyment as Sukuna's fist tore right into its stomach. The King of Curses then smirked as he snapped his fingers shut and tore out a massive chunk of the Cursed Spirit's internal organs, which were – really – little more than lumps of Cursed Energy that happened to solidify and formed a simulacrum of human organs, unnecessary accessories that only highlighted the fact that Cursed Spirits were ultimately nothing more than the ugliness of humanity, given shape and form and something of a will.
They weren't truly sapient – not really. He and Kenjaku had long theorized and proven that, while they did possess a very advanced form of intelligence – so advanced, in fact, that was nearly indistinguishable from human intelligence – Cursed Spirits were slaves to their design. A Cursed Spirit, borne of violence, for instance, could only ever be a creature of violence; it was incapable of thinking beyond the emotions and sensations that birthed it. Skarbrand was a part of a Cursed Spirit that had likely formed out of the concept of war, fueled by it, and so it could only ever be an entity of war. And, therefore, lacking any true ability to make choices beyond its confines, it wasn't sapient – or, in fact, alive.
A punch by Skarbrand sent Sukuna flying and tumbling backwards, cracking and breaking through mountains and large boulders. The punch removed his lower jaw entirely, sending it into the wind, where it went and disappeared. Heh, he'd have grinned if he could've. That was a good hit. But, of course, a quick application of Reverse Cursed Energy renewed the flesh and bone and skin that'd been lost. This was the second reason why he'd chosen to fight without using any of his Cursed Techniques. His body might've been stronger now and far more resilient than ever before, but its Cursed Energy reserves were far lesser than what he used to have; the nigh-infinite reserves of Cursed Energy he once had access to was simply no longer there anymore. It regenerated faster and Sukuna knew that, one day, he'd grow even stronger, but – as of now – he had to be conservative.
It didn't help that Skarbrand made no use of Cursed Techniques of any kind and, thus, could spend all of its Cursed Energy into simply regenerating each and every single time its body got blasted apart. Sure, its regeneration was slowing down and Sukuna knew it was only a matter of time before it ran out of juice, but the damn thing kept on coming. The Trishula, for instance, should've killed it; Sukuna himself had seen it getting reduced to its skeleton and sent hurling into a mountain and yet it got right up and healed. Fucking mental.
But, if nothing else, that was quite impressive. However, healing from such a state clearly took a giant toll and, after that, Skarbrand's regeneration was reduced to less than an eighth of what it'd been; this only seemed to excite the raging Cursed Spirit even more, Sukuna noted. What a swell guy, honestly; the angry red entity would make for a cool friend if they weren't trying to kill each other.
Sukuna dug himself out of the rubble that'd surrounded him, eagerly leaping towards Skarbrand, who was already charging right towards him. Sukuna frowned, a lingering question suddenly appearing at the forefront of his thoughts. He then gestured for Skarbrand to stop for a minute, raising his pointer finger. The Cursed Spirit stopped charging and stopped just a few feet from Sukuna. Aw, how polite of him. "What?"
"You asked me where I got the weapon from," Sukuna began. Skarbrand seemed to recognize it when he summoned it, which struck him as rather odd. "Do you know anything about it?"
Around them, crimson beams and rockets and shouts and roars echoed and revealed themselves, the humans now waging war against the machines in a very confusing, but more or less welcome state of affairs; it was becoming terribly dull, fighting only the Iron Warriors. They were strong, true, but monotonous. Like Skarbrand itself, the appearance of the humans heralded greater excitement and change. And change was always nice. Assuming he won the battle against the Cursed Spirit, watching the war between the humans and the machines should prove to be an interesting show. Heian Era theater could be so terribly dull in comparison.
Skarbrand went silent for a moment before ultimately shrugging. "I do not know it. But its presence is god-forged. Cut off from its source of power, perhaps, but no less weaker."
"Eh, close enough." Sukuna shrugged. That answered that question, at least. The weapon's destructive power was unmatched, but his current self simply did not possess enough Cursed Energy to bring about its full potential; his earlier usage of it proved that. Though, to be entirely fair, not even his previous form, with all the vastness of its Cursed Energy reserves, could "I did steal it from a god, who left it behind."
"Shall we continue?" Skarbrand asked.
"Sure." Their fists collided, creating a sonic boom that cracked the ground apart. Great fissures erupted around them as their hands were torn apart by the impact of their attacks. But then, they both healed, almost at the same time, and punched again; Sukuna's regeneration was faster, though the difference was tiny enough to be negligible. The two gods of war stood their ground, neither moving or giving an inch of space to the other. Their fists flew and surged and tore into each other at speeds rivaling any bullet. Neither Sukuna nor Skarbrand bothered now with any form of defense. Instead, all of their energy, all of their focus, and all of their power went straight into their offense capability. And, thus, they tore each other apart in a mad frenzy of blood. The force of each of their blows was enough to tear mountains asunder and shake entire cities, the very ground around them becoming pulped. He hadn't even noticed the hundreds and hundreds of Iron Soldiers who'd gotten caught in the crossfire.
A mist of crimson covered them, blood and bits of flesh and bone and sinew scattered all around them in a mad haze; and yet, for all of that, the grins on their faces never left and the only sound that came from their mouths was the chorus of their combined laughter.
"I haven't had this much fun in years!" Sukuna cackled, even as bits of his body was blown away with every punch Skarbrand sent his way. His bones cracked and his muscles tore. Unimaginable pain flooded every fiber of his being and yet he could only laugh, gleefully. Was this was happiness truly was? It had to be. Sukuna couldn't imagine anything more fun than this. Skarbrand seemed to agree, though the Cursed Spirit said nothing, merely howling with manic joy – fair enough. Everything that needed to be said had already been spoken; the only thing that mattered now was the conversation between their fists, unspoken but understood.
They were having the time of their lives and neither of them wanted it to end.
But, with every passing moment, Sukuna began to notice something that almost made him sad, in a way. Skarbrand was weakening. Not by much, but every second that ticked by slowed down the Cursed Spirit's regeneration, its strength waning as their battle dragged on. Each punch was weaker than the last and each wound healed slower than the last. Skarbrand didn't seem to care or notice, but Sukuna did. It was ending. And he felt... sad about that. The worst part was that he was becoming even stronger now than he'd ever been. His regeneration was becoming much faster, even without the aid of Reverse Cursed Energy and his punches dealt more damage each time he threw them. He was winning and that was the tragic part, because he'd prefer if neither of them won at all.
Still, it was fun as it was – for now, even if the end loomed closer and closer.
And then, finally, the delicate balance tipped. And Sukuna caught Skarbrand's fist with his own, stopping it mid-air and shocking the Cursed Spirit. Once, such a thing would've been impossible; his hand would've shattered in the attempt, but now, it was only mildly difficult. Skarbrand roared, unleashing all the strength he had left in a berserk rage that slowly pushed Sukuna back, his feet skidding against the ground. But the King of Curses hadn't pushed back at all. There was no need to. Skarbrand was burning himself out. The battle was nearing its end.
All things, good or bad, had to end at some point; it was simply the nature of things.
"Are you done there, buddy?" Sukuna asked as the Cursed Spirit wobbled. Unfortunate. Skarbrand did not respond. Instead, the crimson-skinned entity roared, gaining some desperate measure of strength from its rage, before sending another punch – slow and clumsy - towards Sukuna, who simply moved out of the way. Sukuna then retaliated and sent an open palm strike into Skarbrand's exposed chest, breaking nearly every single one of his ribs and sending him flying back. Sukuna then rushed forward and leapt overhead, right before the Cursed Spirit even hit the ground and sent another punch into the Cursed Spirit's head, sending Skarbrand straight into the ground. The impact shook the nearby mountains and Skarbrand's crash created a massive crater around them, breaking solid rock apart.
"Ha! That was a good fight!" Skarbrand spat, even as he lay broken on the ground. The Cursed Spirit was still regenerating, but at a snail's pace. As he was now, Skarbrand would die to a single use of Cleave; but, then again, Cursed Spirits never truly die, did they? After a hundred or so years, depending on the circumstances of their birth, they'd just come back. Hopefully, Skarbrand came back stronger than he was now; that way, the both of them could fight to their heart's content again and again.
"See you soon, buddy." And then, with a single Cleave, Sukuna cut down the Cursed Spirit from head to groin.
A horde of hundreds of Iron Soldiers attacked him, seemingly jumping from out of nowhere. He'd almost forgotten about them. But, a burst of Dismantle sliced them all apart. The humans were still fighting the machines. Maybe, it was time to get to know them. They were lucky too, because he wasn't particularly hungry after that fight with Skarbrand.