Ryomen Sukuna, the King of Curses and Supreme Overlord of Shibuya, studied the man across from him. He lifted his cup of rice wine to his lips and took a measured sip. The wine, brewed to perfection by Devourers Astartes in their scarce free hours, was served upon a lacquered table that gleamed under soft lamplight. The Emperor of Mankind, Master of Man and lord over countless worlds, sat with a bored cast to his features.
Sukuna huffed, setting the cup down. This particular cup, he noted, was broken once before, but then its shattered pieces were placed back together, the cracks lined with gold. He made no secret of the small indulgences he allowed himself these days, yet he hated to admit how much he was growing fond of them. He eyed the Emperor.
"You're serious?" he said.
The Emperor nodded. "Yes."
Sukuna rubbed a thumb along the rim of the cup. "Is there really no one else more capable? You've got Malcador. You've got yourself. I'm not even a Psyker; I'm a Jujutsu Sorcerer. I don't see what I could contribute."
The Emperor let out a faint breath, reminiscent of amusement.
"You forget you were the first to recommend additional training for the Librarius," he said. "Right after you sent Magnus that letter."
Sukuna considered that a moment. Yes, he had spoken those words. But the context was different, or so he told himself. He watched the swirling surface of his wine as though searching for some hidden answer.
"I recall," he said. "But it was a suggestion; I never volunteered. And, besides, I'd be out of my depth."
The Emperor shrugged.
"Possibly. That doesn't trouble me." He took his own cup of sake and drank, the lines of his face unmoving save for the faintest tightening at the corners of his eyes.
"You have a friend," he continued. "A Daemon of particular renown, a particularly large fragment of the entity of war and rage. Skarbrand. That abomination might serve a role in this undertaking."
Sukuna grinned in spite of himself. "I see."
He watched the Emperor's face. The mere mention of Skarbrand twisted the Emperor's expression, like a man forced to swallow something sour. "You're aware I have no real control over him? If there's enough bloodshed and the winds blow right, he might appear. But I can't snap my fingers and bring him here."
The Emperor's gaze didn't waver. "I know. That won't be an issue. I can call him with or without your permission. What I need from you is to keep him docile enough for the program, or at least keep him from tearing the entire Imperium to pieces while we do our work."
Sukuna arched an eyebrow. "Plan B, Plan C, and so forth if that fails?"
A faint smile touched the Emperor's mouth. "Naturally. We will escalate accordingly. And I suspect by Plan L I'll have run out of patience. By Plan Z, Malcador will also have given up, which is saying something."
Sukuna let out a low chuckle. "Well, that's comforting. You have it all figured out, don't you?"
"More or less," the Emperor said.
Servants came and went through the open door, silent but for the soft shuffle of their feet, bringing in humble portions of food. No one here suspected who this old man truly was. The Emperor wore a plain guise, an illusion that would fool almost everyone in Shibuya. Almost everyone. Sukuna saw right through the illusion the moment the Emperor appeared before him. Though, he figured there were likely only very few who could see the vast ocean of power that loomed over the seemingly ordinary old man.
The Emperor lifted the bowl to his face, inhaled the savory sweetness of the soy sauce, and tasted a morsel of meat with measured care. His expression lightened.
"For Plan A," he said, "I intend to use Skarbrand's influence to test the Librarians' willpower. Specifically, we will link their minds to Skarbrand's presence. If they can endure his wrath, resist that ruinous fury he radiates, then they may learn the advanced techniques Malcador and I have prepared."
"Ha. Bravery test by way of a demon's rage. Typical," Sukuna said. "And my role is to keep Skarbrand in line. Make sure he doesn't kill everyone the moment they set foot in that mental space?"
"That is one way to put it," the Emperor said. He allowed himself another sip of sake.
Sukuna watched him for a moment, then reached for his own food. He picked up a bite of rice with practiced ease. The aroma filled him with a strange nostalgia he could not name. Ah, he remembered, all of a sudden; his usually-abusive mother once fed him something that tasted quite like this, back in the Heian Era.
"All right," he said. "I can guess why you value an outsider's perspective. But how, exactly, do you see me weighing in on the rest of this training regimen?"
The Emperor leaned back, setting the bowl aside.
"An outsider's viewpoint is and always will be of great value," he said. "Malcador and I are not lacking by any means, but–at times–there comes a need for opinions beyond our own."
"Is that it," Sukuna said, "you want me to stand in the corner, making remarks while you and Malcador do your wizardly nonsense?"
The Emperor smiled a thin smile. "You could do it that way. But I'd rather you test them in your own fashion before and after Skarbrand's evaluation. Perhaps you devise a scenario where they have to overcome something akin to a curse—albeit on a smaller scale."
Sukuna stroked his chin. "And if they fail? Will you let them off easy?"
The Emperor set his chopsticks down. "No. For those who fail, the risk of possession is simply too high. Their ranks are better suited to other tasks in the Imperium. Librarians with weak wills are liabilities, not assets. Those who fail your test after they succeed in resisting Skarbrand's rage may be granted some leniency."
Sukuna nodded. "Makes sense. Cursed Spirits latch onto weakness. If you've got cracks in your spirit, something out there will eventually find a way through. Those who can resist something of that magnitude deserve something of a second chance, I suppose."
"Exactly so," the Emperor said.
A moment of quiet passed. Outside, somewhere in the city, a lone cart rolled by, the wheels rumbling on cobblestones. Shibuya was never truly silent, but this close to Sukuna's personal quarters, quiet was the norm. The Emperor's face suggested he rather enjoyed the stillness, that he preferred these moments far from the pomp and ceremony of more Imperial domains.
The King of Curses broke the silence. "But it's more than just that, isn't it? Part of you is curious how I've managed to remain untainted by Skarbrand's influence."
"Perhaps," the Emperor said. "You are a Primarch and a Jujutsu Sorcerer–the first after fifteen thousand years. Your resilience is significant, but this resistance can't possibly be all due to the Jujutsu Filter. I've always had a certain interest in anomalies, especially those I did not design."
"Anomalies," Sukuna repeated, tasting the word. "Well, you're not wrong. I've spoken with Malcador; the original Primarch was meant to be very… different from me."
Malcador himself was not quite sure how it would've turned out, but he was certain that the original soul was not supposed to have developed Jujutsu Sorcery; ergo, Ryomen Sukuna, the King of Curses, was an anomaly.
Sukuna chuckled. "What exactly did you have in mind for this little ordeal? I imagine it won't be easy."
The Emperor gazed at the far wall, eyes distant. "We'll gather them in a place warded by Malcador's runes. A circle of sigils, reinforced by my own telepathic oversight. We will tether them, one at a time, to Skarbrand's presence. They will feel his fury, and they must hold firm without losing themselves. If they do lose themselves, I sever the link. But the damage might linger, and those men can never be allowed to practice again, which means they must die. It is a final measure, but a necessary one. We can't have them compromised."
"Sounds drastic," Sukuna said. "I like it."
"I figured you would." The Emperor said.
They shared a moment of quiet. A servant entered with a fresh pitcher of sake, bowing low before leaving again. The Emperor refilled Sukuna's cup, then his own. The King of Curses lifted the drink and looked over the rim at the Emperor, whose golden eyes shone through the illusion for a moment. And then, the Emperor sighed. "Beyond that particular matter, have you been marshalling your forces as I ordered you to?"
Sukuna felt his spine go rigid. He lowered his drink. "As much as possible, given the time. It's only been a handful of months since you handed down that command, and I'm not exactly one for miracles. But there's been progress. More recruits than I expected, even though most are bound to fail. That's simply how it goes."
He paused, considering just how far he'd come in such a short span. "But the ones who survive—well, their numbers grow too. And that's enough to start shaping the Devourers into something more formidable. Then there's the new Sorcerer Clans. They're small, they're weak, but they've pledged their lives and blood to mastering Jujutsu Sorcery. I can't help feeling some pride in that. Maybe, given time, these families become a real backbone for Shibuya."
He waved a hand, as if to clear the air. "As for the Bound Men of Iron, I've kept them in storage. Not pulling them out unless it's necessary. They're too dangerous to be let loose on a whim, and I'm sure you agree. The Black Wing Squadrons… they're fine. Not much to say there except they're running routine flights, drills, all the usual. Everything else is in the reports I've been sending your way."
The Emperor gave a slow nod. His gaze drifted across the modest room.
"The threads of fate have unraveled," he said, turning his face from Sukuna. "I am no longer certain of what is and what will be. Events have branched, entire new threads spun into existence. I can't see how or why Horus will turn—if he even turns at all. But I remain certain the Imperium stands on the brink of a great schism. By whom or by what, I can't see as clearly as before."
Sukuna shrugged. He took another sip, letting the warmth of the sake linger. "Didn't exactly need prophecy to know something's going to break. That was always your concern, not mine. You told me to prepare, so I'm preparing. You told me that Horus might betray you. For a while, I wasn't sure I believed any of it. Now, I just don't care."
He placed the cup down and folded his arms. "Over-reliance on visions of the future… that's never done anyone favors. If anything, it twists your mind more than it helps. Might as well focus on what's right in front of you."
The Emperor stared at him for a moment, eyes distant. "You say that as though I ever wanted these glimpses. Fate doesn't always ask permission. And now the path is dark. All I can do is keep the Imperium moving forward."
Sukuna exhaled, feeling a faint surge of irritation. Not directed at the Emperor, but at the whole business of prophecy and doom-laden predictions. "Fine. Let it be dark. You're the Emperor, after all. You've conquered star systems, commanded legions. You'll handle it."
The Emperor's lips curved in something close to a grim smile. "One would think so. And yet… perhaps you're right. Perhaps I should heed the present more than the uncertain future. How many times have I tried to shape what comes next, only to see it shift under my hand?"
Sukuna smirked and chuckled. "An embarrassingly high number of times, I wager."
The Emperor chuckled and raised a glass of rice wine. "Fair."
AN: Chapter 55 is out on (Pat)reon!