The transformation into a Cursed Corpse wasn't a quick process, Sukuna mused, even with all the proper steps performed properly. Still, once the emotional Cursed Energies were implanted and left to fester on their own, there really wasn't anything more to be done – not on his end, at least. This was similar, Sukuna mused, to the fermentation process of wine; after the initial steps, the only thing left to do was wait. And so that's exactly what he did. Ryomen Sukuna sat down, leaned back, and watched and waited as the Man of Iron thrashed and struggled against its bindings, the beginnings of a Cursed Spirit coming to life within its twisted metal frame.
Slowly, but surely, Sukuna mused, the birth of the Cursed Spirit was causing the Man of Iron to take on a different shape. It was subtle, at first, but the appearance of a horn from its skeletal head after about five minutes of thrashing was the first sign that the Cursed Spirit within its frame stopped caring about subtlety and was now fully intent on taking over its vessel and molding it to fit its will. Good. A Cursed Corpse was only ever as good as the Cursed Spirit housed within and, truly, Sukuna had been very generous with the volume of Cursed Energies he'd made us of to birth a Cursed Spirit from a Fear of Abandonment – very powerful, even by his own standards, certainly powerful enough to become a fearsome monster if unleashed in the Heian Era. In Shibuya, however, his home world, which was still a strange thing to think about, the local Jujutsu Sorcerers would rip it apart without much trouble.
But, if nothing else, this was just an experiment. If he wanted to create a god-like entity that would give even himself a match, then he would've taken a titan and turned it into a Cursed Corpse; now that would've certainly been a spectacle to behold. And, perhaps, he'd do just that, in time. But these... machines did not exist in his era. No Jujutsu Sorcerer that he knew of had ever had the pleasure of using such beings as Cursed Corpses. He'd be the first.
Shrugging, Sukuna turned away from the thrashing, struggling Man of Iron and turned his attention to a bunch of updates sent by Captain Loktar Shahid, alongside the status reports of the Five Captains and their squads. His fleet, unsurprisingly, was winning the war in the void, by using simple ambush tactics against the much-larger Ork fleet, accompanied by the swarms of the Black Wing Squadron. Meanwhile, the Devourers very quickly overran and overtook the lone moon of the seventh planet, devastating the Ork forces and emerging victorious and triumphant within an hour of landing. Briefly, Sukuna wondered if the competition had spurned his legionnaires on to perform such feats of strength and martial prowess. They didn't even need the Bound Men of Iron to aid them. None of them died. None of them were even injured – mortally or otherwise.
Hmm... perhaps he'd underestimated them, Sukuna mused. Perhaps, they'd been ready for a while and his caution stifled their growth. Well, he wasn't going to make that mistake ever again. From now on, the Devourers were to join him in every single war and take part in every single battle they wanted to take part in. With a smile that he didn't even know was there, Sukuna gave them the order to begin the invasion of the seventh planet, an arid world that was apparently filled with Orks. If they could take it, then he'd send the Bound Men of Iron to aid them; if that still didn't work, then he was going to send the Black Tread Squadron, a legion of automated tanks that acted identically to the Black Wing Squadron, just on land. And if that still didn't get the job done, which Sukuna every much doubted, then he'd jump down there to join them.
Beyond that, there wasn't much to be done regarding his legion or his fleet. The Five Captains were competent enough as leaders and Loktar Shahid knew what he was doing. All was well. And that was good, because it meant he could perform all the experiments and hobbies that he wanted to do, without having to worry about anything else. After all, if his presence wasn't necessary, then it wasn't necessary. Besides, these Cursed Corpses would be of great service to the Devourers anyway.
Of course, the Imperial Army was on its way and, at the end of the day, those guys would be doing the brunt of the work. His legion's only role was to go in, do as much damage as possible, and then roll right out.
The Man of Iron ceased thrashing and Sukuna knew it was time. He stood up and approached the... thing that used to be a mere infiltration machine. It remained the same height as it'd been, about eight feet tall. But its form had been greatly warped by the Cursed Spirit that now dwelt within its metallic frame. Twisted horns grew and sprouted from its head, long and sharp and jagged teeth jutted out of its maw, and from its eyes blazed a strange flame. Its natural armor had thickened and pulsating musculature had taken hold over its otherwise skeletal form. The edges of its fingers curved into talons and its once-humanoid feet were now hooves. Sukuna raised a brow. "Odd... but I suppose there's no way for me to dictate what form a Cursed Spirit takes."
Its queer form aside, the strangest thing about this... creature was its core, which had mutated out of proportion and was now actively producing its own Cursed Energy. That... was technically possible; the only problem was that something of that sort hadn't been Sukuna's intent and it certainly wasn't in his design. After all, this wasn't the first time he'd created a Cursed Corpse and it wasn't as though he'd altered anything about the ritual. No, something actively interfered and triggered the strange mutation. The most likely explanation was that something came from the Cursed Realm and made a mess of his otherwise perfect execution of the ritual.
However, that didn't mean the sudden and unintended alteration was a bad thing. Indeed, unexpected changes and random events made life so much more interesting.
"I'm guessing you possess some form of rudimentary intelligence," Sukuna muttered, reaching down and pressing his hand against the Cursed Corpse's core and feeling the flow of Cursed Energy within. Hmm... definitely different from what he'd intended. It was still a Cursed Spirit of the Fear of Abandonment, but it was... a lot stronger than Sukuna intended. Still not strong enough to pose a significant threat to the Jujutsu Sorcerers of Shibuya, but definitely strong enough to be a nuisance. More interesting was the fact that it did, in fact, develop a very primitive mind – not quite sapient. It was more like a wild beast, like a Tiger – intelligent, certainly, but nowhere near as smart as a smart human being. Though, it was precisely because of that little chance that Sukuna was now certain that this... thing was no longer capable of following basic commands. That much was clear.
And so, with a shrug, the King of Curses tore the Cursed Core from the Cursed Corpse's body and swallowed it – all in the span of a single moment. The Cursed Corpse did not even have the time to react – no time to scream in pain or feel pain. It died instantly, the Cursed Energies that gave it life returning to their rightful owner. "Failure. Ah, I'll try again at some other point. Migi, Hidari – clean up this mess and make sure my chambers are spotless when you're done."
Well, he wasn't quite in the mood for another Cursed Corpse experiment.
The invasion of the seventh planet was still underway and Sukuna wasn't expecting any results for quite a while, honestly. And that meant the fifth planet, which was the fifth habitable zone in the entire solar system, was open for the taking. The King of Curses grinned. Taking on an entire world that was filled entirely with Orks seemed like a lot of fun – certainly a lot more than those hungering aliens. And, perhaps, Skarbrand would reawaken once more if he killed enough of them. Unlikely, since it usually took about a hundred years for even the most powerful Cursed Spirits to reform and the Virus Bombing certainly burnt his buddy to ashes. But, hey, it'd be a very welcome surprise if Skarbrand showed up.
Present day...
"I AM SKARBRAND! TREMBLE BEFORE ME AND DESPAIR! FOR I AM THE END OF WORLDS! I AM THE BRINGER OF DESTRUCTION AND CALAMITY! DEATH-" He emerged from a pool of fire and blood, surrounded by the skulls of a billion dead – a worthy offering to one such as himself. When he came to, however, Skarbrand immediately caught the familiar scent of his ilk, his children. The desiccated finger, bound by a brass chain around his neck, thrummed with the familiarity. And even Skarbrand found himself smiling as he walked onto a raging battlefield – a great war waged against the Tyranids. The Devourers brought great death and war wherever they went; it was good to be around friends and family. Skarbrand howled with laughter and joy as he draw his twin axes, each one already dripping with blood. "Greetings, dear nephews!"
"Uncle Skarbrand," One of Sukuna's Devourers approached him, bearing the skull of a Carnifex – a worthy offering. As usual, the Devourers carried with them the presence of pure power, the very essence of the Immaterium trapped and bound in their very bones. "Me and the boys thought you might enjoy this slaughter – figured you'd come and join us for a weekend of fun. Not much to do around here, anyway. We also have a dozen casks of Fenrisian Ale for afterwards."
"HAHAHAHA! Of course I shall join you in your frolicking, dear nephews!" Skarbrand roared and howled with laughter as he joined the next charge, gleefully engaging in a seemingly endless slaughter. Around him, the Devourers did what they did best – killing and eating. The irony was not lost on him. And Skarbrand found himself laughing as the tendrils of the Great Devourer were, in turn, devoured by the children of Ryomen Sukuna, the King of Curses – his friend and brother. They called on him once every few hundred years or so. And, every single time they did so, Skarbrand found himself in the bloodiest wars and battles he'd ever been on.
Sure, the Devourers were technically servants of the Anathema and, thus, his enemies. But that never mattered to him and it certainly still didn't. And Khorne, the Blood God himself, certainly cared about the matter as much as Skarbrand himself did. After all, it mattered now from where the blood flowed, only that it did. And the Devourers, if he was being honest, spilled far more blood than the World Eaters of Angron ever did and could. Khorne was far more pleased with Sukuna's children than any other legion.
Skarbrand roared and struck down a gigantic tyranid creature, splitting its head in two and kicking away its body. Sukuna's desiccated finger, wrapped around his neck, continued to thrum and vibrate, likely feeding off of the slaughter. His friend had been imprisoned for... well... for a very long time. But his dear nephews remained ever zealous and determined in their search for the keys to their father's prison. And it was only a matter of time before the King of Curses returned. And, when Ryomen Sukuna was finally freed, then all the galaxy will drown in blood. It shall be glorious.
Together, they shall slaughter their way across the Chaos Wastes, through the Maelstrom of Beasts, and across the stars. Glorious.
It took a full week of constant, intense carnage to finally wipe out the Tyranids. By the end of it, only about a dozen Devourers died and all of them by their own folly. Skarbrand sat down, a tankard of Fenrisian Ale in hand and drank, surrounded by family.
AN: Chapter 30 is out on (Pat)reon!