Every single member of his Legion was, for an entire year, forced to abandon their Power Armor and Weapons as they attended the Jujutsu Academies that apparently existed on his planet. Why? Well, the Emperor, before leaving, came down to give him a few pointers on what he was supposed to do. Essentially, he was given a whole five years to reshape his Legion however he wanted.
He didn't want to waste five years sitting around, playing administrator; so, the best thing to do was to turn over his Astartes to the Jujutsu Sorcerers for training, since they may as well figure out how to properly use their Cursed Energy, just enough for them to figure out RCT. A year was more than enough. Everything else, they'd learn on the fly when they finally ventured off-world and started conquering entire planets – the fun part. Of course, five years would also allow his world to acclimate to Imperial Rule. Once again, Sukuna left the decision-making to the High Priests.
As for the two strongest Jujutsu Sorcerers, Sukuna had them turned into Astartes, a process that apparently only took a few months. As expected, both Yamamoto and Loras were 100% compatible with his Gene-seed. The transformation, however, much to the surprise of the Gene-Smiths, who were involved with the entire process, ended up lasting only a few weeks, at most, as none of them failed to account for the veritable shortcut granted by Reverse Cursed Energy. And so, within a few weeks, Yamamoto and Loras became Space Marines, their new organs integrating perfectly with their now-massive bodies. Idly, Sukuna noted the 20% increase in their overall Cursed Energy Output, a flat rate that... honestly baffled him, because he wasn't sure where it came form, other than the possibility that his Gene-seed did, in fact, hold a sliver of his own potential, which would supercharge the both of them.
But, that was just a theory. And, ultimately, Sukuna mused, it hardly mattered. If it made them stronger. Added strength was a good thing, actually, because it meant they'd live longer, which meant they'd worship him for longer, which meant more Cursed Energy in the long run. Everybody wins.
"How do you both feel?" Sukuna asked the kneeling Astartes. It'd only been a few hours since they were released. And now, no other Jujutsu Sorcerer on the planet could hope to match them, except of course for Sukuna himself but that was already a given. They were so powerful, actually, that a part of him actually wanted to fight them, just to see how long it took for them to break apart entirely – or if they'd break at all.
But, there was no point in such an exercise; for one thing, because of their faith, they'd rather die than raise any sort of weapon at Sukuna, their god, and the other thing was that, honestly, they were both so far below him in strength that it'd be an elephant sparring with two ants. Hilarious. But pointless.
Neither of them wore their armor just yet. But, already, neither of them looked anything like the used to – at least, on a physical level; their identities were unmistakable, through their Cursed Energy. Their bones were larger and more robust, denser and stronger – not to mention the additional organs within their body that vastly improved their basic bodily faculties. The Gene-Smiths told him they'd live longer, too – a lot longer than what was usually possible for humans, even without the use of Cursed Techniques or spells. They'd begin slowing down around the age of eight hundred, but would only succumb to wear and tear at one thousand five hundred; however, the Gene-smiths also acknowledged that, with RCT, his Legionnaires could, theoretically, live forever.
Wonderful. That meant he wouldn't have to worry about constantly replacing them whenever. And, if his Legionnaires mastered the use of RCT in about a year of constant training, then he'd essentially have an unkillable legion, which meant he could dive, headfirst, into the most dangerous and most exciting wars, because what was the point of all this, otherwise?
"I feel much stronger, my lord." Yamamoto answered. Sukuna nodded. Astartes, in terms of pure physical prowess, were, on average, about ten to fifteen times stronger than the fittest and most physically capable human being, which was honestly a lot. An average Jujutsu Sorcerer with a basic Cursed Augmentation was about five to six times stronger than the most physically-inclined humans. So, an Jujutsu Sorcerer Space Marine with basic Cursed Augmentation would be... well... really strong.
"I feel the same way, my lord," Loras added.
"Very well," Sukuna said, shrugging. An addition of two was paltry. "The two of you will search for as many candidates as you possibly can. If they impress you in a fight, send them to the gene-smiths. Make sure they're, at the very least, capable of performing Reverse Cursed Techniques. You have six months. Understood?"
"Yes, my lord!" They both yelled, before Sukuna shooed them away with a simple gesture. And, just like that, Yamamoto and Loras jumped out and disappeared. Ah, it felt good to be a god. Hmm... he may have forgotten to tell them that it was fine if they didn't get anyone. But, eh, once again, Sukuna didn't care. The only reason he wanted to bolster the ranks of his legion with more Jujutsu Sorcerers was because it'd be easier for knowledge and wisdom to spread through the ranks, alongside the planetary religion with himself at the center of worship. There were apparently saints now, specifically those who'd fought alongside him in that brief, but bloody, war to reclaim the planet from the Iron Soldiers, but Sukuna didn't really care about them.
Except for the Preacher. That was a swell guy. Briefly, Sukuna wondered if the Preacher's descendants held positions of power. They probably did.
"You can show yourself now," Sukuna sighed, leaning against the backrest of his throne as a short, elderly figure appeared before him, clad in a simple cloak and carrying a staff. The man's appearance belied the power he held within, Sukuna mused. Was this an illusion? Maybe?
"Forgive the intrusion, Prince Sukuna," The old man said. Despite all the power he wielded, however, Sukuna felt no malice or aggression. Not a threat, then. At least, not an immediate one. Although, if it came down to it, Sukuna was reasonably certain that he'd be able to beat the old man. But, honestly, Sukuna wasn't too sure of that, which – more than anything – made the prospect so enticing. "I am Malcador. Your father never formally introduced us. I figured I'd come and speak with you, myself."
Sukuna glanced at the sky and then back at the old man. He raised a brow. He was pretty sure the Emperor already left and made no mention of leaving any friend or representative behind, which meant... "You guys sure are fond of using projections, huh?"
Malcador chuckled. "Indeed. It is a very useful trick."
Sukuna raised a brow, but otherwise shrugged. "If you say so. Now, what do you want?"
"I want to see, for myself, if your potential is truly as great as Revelation thinks it is," Malcador said. Once again, Sukuna shrugged. The old man was confident in his own power, secure in his position. In fact, it seemed accurate to say that Malcador thought himself stronger than Sukuna, which the King of Curses thought laughable. No, the gap between them was closer than the old man thought, even slightly skewed, perhaps, in Sukuna's favor, due simply to his greater physical capabilities. "He has plans for you. And I don't approve of them – not unless I see, for myself, just what my oldest friend sees in you, Ryomen Sukuna."
Before him was an old man. Certainly, Malcador possessed monstrous Cursed Energy Reserves and Output, as befitting of an associate of the Emperor, but he was... well... old. Not frail, perhaps, but well beyond his best years. Without Cursed Energy, Sukuna very much doubted Malcador could run up a flight of steps without wheezing by the end of it and that wasn't an insult. Age caught up to everyone, eventually. Nothing was ever truly immortal. Everything died. Some just died slower than others.
"And how exactly do you plan on doing that, Malcador?" Sukuna asked, smirking. He liked where this was headed. The old man was strong – very strong. A fight between them would be... exciting. And Sukuna wondered and hoped that a fight was exactly what Malcador was looking for, because he'd give it in a heartbeat.
"A simple clash of power would suffice," Malcador said, holding out his right hand towards Sukuna, who raised a brow. He recognized that gesture; Jujutsu Sorcerers in his era, before this one, at least, used to practice it among themselves, before it fell out of favor. The King of Curses stood up. "No need to make things complicated for the both of us. I'm not very fond of fighting, you see."
"Huh, been a while since I did anything like this," Sukuna said, holding out his right hand as he stepped forward, stopping only an inch away from Malcador's open palm. The last time he did this was with Kenjaku, a simply clash of raw, Cursed Energy to determine which of them was stronger. Sukuna thought it wasn't a very good metric for determining strength as it focused solely on raw power and nothing else, even if he'd won every single exchange he'd ever participated in. However, it was good for measuring potential, which was what Malcador came here to do.
"Shall we begin?" Malcador asked.
Sukuna grinned. "Sure."
Malcador smirked.
And, just like that, the two god-like beings unleashed their full might upon each other, tidal waves of Cursed Energies clashing and colliding, slamming into each other like mighty beasts. The world shook. And every living creature upon the planet felt their power, their might. Sukuna's Cursed Energy bore the strength of a hurricane that was so powerful it could flatten mountains, churn oceans, and reduce cities into dust. His was destruction, unbound and untethered, the power to devour entire worlds, leaving only a barren wasteland. The King of Curses was a malevolent giant, an endless maw that threatened to consume everything.
The sky rumbled and took on a darker hue as Sukuna's Cursed Energy saturated the entire planet. His people, all of them, fell to their knees, uttering and whispering praises and prayers in his name, in his glory.
Sukuna felt... amazing. It'd been a very long time since he was able to do this, to simply unleash all the power he'd kept within himself, all the Cursed Energy that was begging to be released. It was cathartic. The fact that Malcador still stood, unbroken, was a testament to the man's strength. Lesser Sorcerers would've sunk to their knees, overwhelmed, bleeding from every orifice, and convulsing madly. Mortals would've died outright, their souls burned to dust.
But not the old man. No, the frail, thin, thing before him did not bend or break. "Hah, impressive."
Malcador's nose bled, but the smirk did not leave his face. Still, he was exerting himself. "I have been alive for a very long time, Ryomen Sukuna. And with age comes power."
"I will not argue with you, old timer." Sukuna said, smirking right back.
Malcador's power, meanwhile, was akin to a steady, but powerful river – a billions tons of water, moving in a single direction, moving with a single purpose. His power was undeniable. Its preserved and maintained, healed and protected. It did not destroy or obliterate or devour; it did not take. Instead, Malcador's power gave and nurtured, it brought life in death, light in the darkness, courage to the hopeless. Sukuna's eyes widened. It was... eerily similar to the Emperor's power, he realized, just a lot smaller, infused with hopeful ideas and pure benevolence, the sort that almost made him gag.
Sukuna would have gagged if he hadn't already been defeated by the Emperor.
The floor cracked beneath them, unable to withstand the immense pressure.
And then, they both stopped. The rolling tidal waves of Cursed Energy disappeared. The sky cleared and the ground ceased its shaking.
Sukuna maintained his smirk, but he felt almost... doubtful. Neither of them won. But, then again, neither of them tried to. Malcador sighed. "You have no principles. You live by no code, save yours. You think of no one, save yourself. You care for nothing. You respect only power. And you devour anything and anyone you consider beneath you. You live only by your whims and fancies, driven by no higher purpose. You exist to have fun. You're... just straight up evil. And yet... I have not seen anyone as further away from corruption as you."
Sukuna merely raised a brow as Malcador continued. "You are a solitary existence, Ryomen Sukuna; the great enemy will find no purchase in you. For your heart is... well... it doesn't exist. And if it doesn't exist, then there's nothing to corrupt."
"Is that it?" Sukuna raised a brow. A proper fight would've been good.
"Your legion will be granted additional resources," Malcador finished. "Technologies and weapons not available to most legions. I can see why Revelation has faith in you."
And, with that, Malcador disappeared in a flash of gold.
Sukuna huffed as he stood up, staring at the spot on the ground, where the old man had been standing on.
He frowned. "Faith..."
AN: Advanced chapters are out on (Pat)reon! Check out the "Factioneer too" tier for advanced chapters, up to Chapter 19.