As it turned out, the weakness of the machine soldiers had, quite literally, been floating right over his head. Of course, Sukuna hadn't considered that. As far as he was aware and concerned, his enemies would stop coming right at him if he cut them all down. But, since he also needed to preserve the lives of his worshipers, then he was forced to find a way to disable the machines for good, without having to spend months cleansing the whole world of them, one by one, Dismantling and Cleaving apart entire mountains and regions to do so. Sukuna needed a quicker, more decisive way.
And, luckily, his worshipers were not nearly as ill-suited for battles as he'd previously thought. Sure, they were weak and fragile, seeing as they were mere humans, but they made up for that weakness with courage and zeal, which was honestly a very refreshing thing to see among humans. Once the storm of fire and ash and death dissipated, the humans were quick to counter attack, launching themselves at the Iron Soldiers with the ferocity of berserkers. It was rather amusing, actually, Sukuna had to admit, watching them fight with no regard for their lives or the lives of others around them. Actually, that was a little worrying as he had no need for a population of worshipers who were all too willing to kill themselves in his name as such an idiotic thing meant their numbers would steadily dwindle.
He was gonna have to fix that eventually.
So, to preserve their prayerful thoughts, Sukuna had to intervene as much as he possibly could, saving as many of the idiots from their deaths whenever he physically could. Dismantles were launched left and right, cutting down more and more of the Iron Soldiers. But, honestly, it grew rather tiresome. Their numbers seemed limitless, even after he'd destroyed what must've been hundreds of thousands of them earlier. Was someone making these things from somewhere? And were they making these machines faster than even Sukuna could kill them?
Unlikely. They weren't puppets of Cursed Energy, but dead metal, which meant their creator was – more than likely – another machine, some form of automated assembler, creating Iron Soldiers from... well... iron. Or whatever metal they had on hand. So, the logical step would've been to find that automated maker and destroy it. The only problem was that, in being entities of a purely physical existence, there was no way for Sukuna to figure out their source, even if he expanded his Cursed Energy to cover vast regions at a time. And so, he found himself at an impasse. He could probably keep fighting until all the Iron Soldiers and the Iron Titans ran out, keep launching Dismantles until every enemy around him lay dead at his feet. But, by the time he'd finished, all his little human playthings would be dead and he couldn't have that.
And so, it was, perhaps, a miraculous coincidence that one among his worshipers approached him with information, regarding the machines and the Iron Soldiers. A man of average height and build, dressed in distinct white robes – a priest? Curiously, the man held a spark for Jujutsu – not a lot of it, but enough to make him a Sorcerer if he was taught even the basics. But, eh, Sukuna couldn't recall a single time where he actively taught anyone anything.
"I am the Preacher, my lord," The man introduced himself, even as chaos raged around them. Screams and roars filled the air, the smell of smoke and the ringing of the weapons that shot forth great crimson beams that tore holes upon the sides of the mountains. The advance of the machines had slowed down, but this was hardly the first time it happened and they'd inevitably start pushing once again. "I was the one who foresaw your arrival and informed the people of your inevitable reign. Hail the Promised King."
Sukuna nodded. "Do you have anything important to say?"
The Preacher bowed his head and fell to a knee. "Yes, my lord. The Men of Iron are governed by a central intelligence that directs their masses of soldiers and titans and other constructs. If this central intelligence is destroyed or, at least, rendered inoperable, then the Men of Iron will fall with nothing to control them."
Ah, there it was. It seems his earlier hypothesis had been correct. The Iron Soldiers were directed and governed by something.
"Interesting," Sukuna smiled. Oh, that was useful information, indeed. Very useful. But also not – at least, not without the second piece of the little puzzle. "I don't suppose you actually know where this central intelligence actually is, yes?"
"Of course, my lord." The Preacher said. And, already, Sukuna decided that this man, provided he actually lived long enough, would become his regent. He wasn't quite fond of micromanaging anything – or managing, in general – and he'd need someone to do the day-to-day intricacies of actually ruling, in his stead. So, this Preacher could fulfill that role; after all, he hadn't been lying when he said that it was he who united the others into worshiping Sukuna. And such fervent devotion should be rewarded. The Preacher then pointed towards the sky, to the jet black disc that hovered right above the clouds. "It is that thing, my lord. It controls and operates every single one of these Iron Solders. Our ancestors tried to destroy it, but it is protected by powerful shields. But, if it is destroyed, then this war can finally end and humanity will finally emerge victorious, under your rule."
Sukuna turned his attention to the sky and frowned. Seriously? This whole time? That floating black disc was all he needed to destroy? Well, in hindsight, he'd never even taken it into consideration. After all, all it'd seemed to do was announce some form of escalation, before disappearing into the sky once again; Sukuna made the mistake of discounting its importance. And now, no longer.
"Well, then," Sukuna glanced around. His worshipers fought hard, even through their injuries. It was amazingly funny and amusing, really. But he didn't need any of them to die. "As your god, I entrust these... people to you. Retreat. Lead them away – for now. I will finish this by myself. Hide and stay hidden until I tell you to come out."
"By your command, my lord!" The Preacher bowed, before turning and rushing towards the gathered humans. "Retreat! Our lord commands us to retreat."
Normally, Sukuna noted, no one would've noticed the Preacher's voice in the chaos. However, it seemed that he'd subconsciously used some form of enhancement on his voice so that every single person heard it loud and clear, even Sukuna himself, a voice that spoke directly into his mind. And, as though he was imbued with some form of enhanced charisma, ever single human in the battlefield obeyed. As they retreated back into the nearby caves, Sukuna shielded them, using Dismantle to cut down as many of the rushing Iron Soldiers as he could. By then, the machine army had become boring. He'd memorized their patterns and their favored means of attack. Sure, they were powerful, but Sukuna would always be a hundred steps ahead of them. For all their strength, the Iron Soldiers became predictable – them and their titanic counterparts. And a predictable enemy was easy to deal with.
Sukuna didn't even have to look anymore, merely using his Dismantle on every conceivable angle to cut down the few who were daring enough to approach him directly. Their crimson beams, one of the few weapons that actually once had a chance to hurt him, now suffered from the same fate; he knew when, where, and how they made use of it. For instance, the Iron Soldiers never used the attack when there was a chance that they'd hit each other. And so, the solution was to simply dive into the middle of their hordes, ensuring that all they could do was attempt to engage him in melee. It was laughable. And it was for this reason that Sukuna sought an end to them. The Iron Soldiers or the Men of Iron as the Preacher called them were boring. And there was nothing worse than a boring battle.
Once the last of his humans disappeared into the nearby caves, many of which were fortunate enough to have survived the flood of fire that came when he detonated the Flaming Arrow of Amateraus, Sukuna turned his gaze upward. And his eyes narrowed. Where are you?
It had to be here. It was always watching. More than likely, it'd hidden itself behind the clouds as it preferred to do. He wasn't even sure if it had actual weapons or if it was capable of defending itself at all. The Preacher mentioned shields. He'd have to maximize the output of his Dismantle to cut it down at once, assuming it could survive even a basic use of Dismantle, which Sukuna severely doubted. Not even the titans survived it. What chance did a flying black disc have?
"There you are!" Sukuna grinned and jumped high, soaring into the clouds faster than the machines could follow. His body was far stronger now than when he'd first encountered these beings. Just his base physical state alone was already stronger than his four-armed form from the Heian era and that was without Cursed Energy Enhancement. With it, a single, effortless leap took him to the skies in less than a second. And, the jet black disc appeared before him. It was actually a lot bigger up close, nearly the size of a castle, but flat and matted, like a blob of darkness in the sky. Sukuna breathed in and grinned, ignoring the poisoned air that he'd sucked into his lungs simply because it no longer burned or bothered him as it did before.
The disc itself was about ten meters from him. The air between them writhed and shimmered, and clearly there was something there. This must've been the shield the Preacher spoke of, earlier. Grinning, Sukuna held out his right hand towards the disc and activated Dismantle a thousandfold, a thousand cuts with every passing second, its range shortened immensely in exchange for quantity and frequency.
The shield shattered almost immediately after two seconds, becoming little more than fluttering colorless shards in the wind. And then, the disc buckled as thousands and thousands and thousands if Dismantles tore into its massive form, each one carving deep and terrible furrows that resulted in spurts of some black material, followed great arcs and sparks of what appeared to be lightning. Briefly, Sukuna glanced down, only to find every single Iron Soldier and Iron Titan flying right towards him, soaring through the open air. And the best part was that they couldn't launch their weapons now, else they accidentally hit the black disc. The machine army was crippled.
The King of Curses grinned. "Guys, this has been fun and all, but I think I'm gonna have to end this."
Maximum: Dismantle.
Sukuna moved his right hand in a slashing motion from left to right, and destruction followed it as the amplified Dismantle sliced cleanly through the entirety of the disc's form, before slicing apart the clouds behind it. The sky itself was split apart. But, Sukuna wasn't done. It was always better, after all, to overestimate one's enemy, instead of underestimating them. Respect. It was little more than a sign of respect. Sukuna wasn't sure if he respected this central intelligence thing, but he sure had some fun because of it. And so, it was only natural that he want all out. As the disc's two halves began to drift apart, Sukuna sent forth another Maximum Output Dismantle, slashing it vertically this time, splitting it right down the middle and through its center.
Grinning, Sukuna begun his descent. And, as he pierced through the clouds on his way down, he was treated to the sight of hundreds of thousands of these Men of Iron falling around him, like puppets with their strings suddenly cut. They became limp and powerless, impotent chunks of metal that no longer served any function. But, perhaps, they could still be used. After all, there was no way he was letting his humans live within the caves they once called home. No, they were going to build a new city, a new civilization, up here, on the surface of the planet.
As he crashed into the ground, forming a massive crater around himself, Sukuna grinned. Finally, it was over. Now, he could begin working out what exactly it was he wanted. And maybe get something to eat; he was hungry.