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Jason hit the ground hard, rolling through ash and ember, his body screaming where the Frenzied Flame had touched him. He pushed himself up, barely, and saw them...Sukuna and the Frenzied Jason...already circling each other, already adapting, already learning.
A wave of yellow fire erupted from the Frenzied Jason's spear, sweeping across the battlefield. Jason dove. Sukuna dodged, flipping backward, his feet skidding through the ash. When he straightened, he was smiling.
"I see." Sukuna's eyes gleamed. "We can't use any of our powers here. Yet he can." He tilted his head, considering. "I see. I see."
His hands glowed.
Faintly at first....a yellow flicker, barely visible against the flames. Then brighter. Stronger. His eyes shifted, the familiar crimson bleeding into gold.
"I feel it now." Sukuna's smile widened. "I get it. In here, we only fight using the Frenzied Flame." He rolled his shoulders, cracked his neck. "Well. I don't mind."
He darted toward Jason.
Jason's eyes went wide. He raised his arms, tried to block
Sukuna's fist, glowing with yellow fire, punched through his guard and buried itself in his gut.
The pain was immediate. Absolute. Not just physical—the flame burned through him, through his muscles, his organs, his very sense of self. Jason doubled over, gasping, and Sukuna's follow-up punch caught him across the jaw, sending him spinning.
Sukuna turned, blocking the Frenzied Jason's spear with his forearm. The impact sent sparks showering across the ash. The Frenzied Jason stabbed again—Sukuna dodged, his head erupting with flames as he moved, his yellow eyes tracking every angle of attack.
Jason couldn't dodge.
The Frenzied Jason turned to him, raised his spear, and drove the entire length of it through Jason's chest.
Jason's eyes flew open. His mouth opened. No sound came out. The spear was pulled free, and then the flame came—condensed, focused, a beam of yellow darkness that caught Jason in the chest and sent him flying.
He tumbled through the air, over the edge of the clearing, and fell into the fiery pits that surrounded the throne.
The flames consumed him.
Sukuna watched him fall. Then he turned to the Frenzied Jason, cracking his neck.
"Well." He settled into a battle stance. "He wouldn't have survived this anyway. So it's just me and you, then?" He smiled. "Shall we?"
...
'Who am I?'
The question echoed through the fire.
'No.' He rejected the thought. 'What am I?'
Jason burned.
The flames surrounded him, consumed him, devoured him piece by piece. They were not kind. They were not patient. They were the Frenzied Flame, and they wanted nothing but to end—to end him, to end everything, to reduce existence to ash and silence.
But he did not die.
He could not die. Not here. Not in this place. This was a fight for his body, and there would be no body without him in it. The rules of this realm demanded it. The Frenzied Jason was a copy, a tool, a weapon aimed at the world. Sukuna was a parasite, a murderer, a thing that wanted nothing but to kill and kill and kill.
Both of them had adapted. Both of them had learned to wield the flame.
But he could not.
'How?'
He asked himself the question as the fire stripped away his skin. 'How can I comprehend something that desires only destruction? How can I mold something to my vision when I cannot control it in the first place?'
He had no answer.
But something kept him going. Something beneath the pain, beneath the despair, beneath the certainty that he was failing.
'It's the failure'
The thought surfaced unbidden.
'How much of a failure I was'
The flames burned brighter.
'I have nothing of my own'
He saw it clearly now....the truth he had been running from. The flames were Lucifer's, given freely but never truly earned. The death powers were Death's, borrowed but never owned. And the original power...the cursed energy, the slashes, the techniques that had carried him through every battle....those were Sukuna's. Stolen. Borrowed. Never his.
'In essence' the thought cut through him like a blade, 'I had no powers of my own'
Self-loathing.
Self-hatred.
Self-resentment.
"FUCK THIS!"
The scream tore out of him. The flames recoiled....just for a moment, just a fraction of a second, but he felt it. He felt them hesitate.
"Mold it, you said? Fine." His voice was raw, broken, but it carried. "Fuck it all. Yeah. I got hand-me-down powers." He pushed himself upright, the flames clawing at his skin, his clothes long since burned away. "So FUCKING WHAT!"
He took a step forward.
"All of my powers were given." Another step. "BUT IT WAS I that mastered that shit!" The flames tried to push him back. He pushed through. "I introduced new concepts to Sukuna's powers! Soul Slash! Death Slash!" His voice rose. "I turned Death's power into Destined Death!"
He was walking now, striding through the fire, and the fire was parting before him.
"I MOLDED THEM ALL!"
He stopped.
"AND I WILL DO THE FUCKING SAME TO YOU!"
The flames surrounded him, but they did not touch him.
"You want something to burn?" His voice dropped, became something colder, something harder. "Fine." He spread his arms. "Let's burn it all."
The flames surged toward him.
"Melt every fucking thing I have into a pot." The flames touched his skin....and stopped. "And melt it all."
He opened his eyes.
The flames could not touch him.
"I SAID BURN!"
The flames exploded outward...not burning him, burning around him, consuming everything except him. They tried to return, tried to reclaim him, but he would not allow it.
"That's fucking right!" He was shouting now, his voice carrying over the roar of the fire. "You want to control me? Fuck no!" He raised his hand, and the flames gathered around his fingers, waiting. "Instead, you'll do as I fucking say!"
He looked at the fire. The fire looked back.
"Burn it all." His voice was calm now. Certain. "Melt it together." He closed his hand into a fist. "Be molded into my will and my shape."
He closed his eyes.
"Sukuna's Cursed Technique."
The flames around him shifted, took on a sharper edge.
"Death's Powers."
The darkness within the flames deepened.
"And you." He felt the Frenzied Flame pulse against his grip. "The Frenized Flame"
He opened his eyes.
"Become one."
He brought his hands together.
"For me."
The world went white.
When Jason opened his eyes again, he was standing in the center of a new domain.
The shrine rose behind him...not the Malevolent Shrine, something else. Something new. The flames that surrounded it were not the yellow of Frenzy, not the black of death, not the invisible sharpness of cursed energy. They were all of them and none of them, melted together, reforged, made into something that had never existed before.
The throne sat at the edge of the clearing, empty.
Sukuna and the Frenzied Jason had stopped fighting. Both of them turned to look at him.
Jason met their gazes.
"Domain Expansion," he said quietly.
The flames rose higher.
"Shrine of Frenzied Death"
The shrine was no longer a mere Shinto-style structure.
It had transformed into something vast, something terrible, something that existed at the intersection of death and madness. Endless pillars rose toward a sky that was pitch black—not the black of night, but the black of absence, of endings, of things that had been consumed and would never return. Each pillar burned with yellow flames, flickering and hungry, casting the only light in that endless darkness.
At the top of each pillar, a skull.
Different shapes. Different forms. Monsters and men Jason had killed—the Absolute Joker's head, its rictus grin frozen in perpetual mockery. Neron's skull, the demon's horns still intact, black ichor oozing from the cracks. Azrael, the Angel of Destruction, his skull split down the middle where a slash had ended him. Others, too many to count, all the enemies who had fallen before the King of Curses.
Each skull oozed black aura—the aura of death, of endings, of destinies cut short.
The ground beneath them was the opposite of the sky. Where the heavens were black, the earth was flame—yellow, endless, burning with the Frenzied Flame's desire to end all things. It consumed everything it touched, leaving only ash and memory.
If not for their current affinity to the flames, both Sukuna and the Frenzied Jason would have burned already.
And at the end of the pillars, a throne.
Massive. Endowed. Made entirely of flame—but the flame had an edge of darkness that held it in, contained it, shaped it. Like a glass chair burning from within, a design that gave clear representation of the mixture that was death and frenzy. The black of endings. The yellow of madness. Both, together, made into something new.
Jason sat on the throne.
He wore the same black haori with white kimono that Sukuna favored in his own domain—the outfit of a king, of a conqueror, of someone who had claimed something that could never be taken back. His legs were crossed. His elbow rested on the arm of the throne. His chin rested on his fist.
He looked down at the two contenders with disdain.
"I am not someone who allows the flame to take over his mind."
His voice carried across the domain....not loud, but absolute. The words settled into the air like judgments.
He snapped his fingers.
The Frenzied Jason opened his mouth. No sound came out. The flame that had been his weapon, his identity, his reason for existing....it turned on him. Black fire erupted from his chest, from his eyes, from every crack in his burning skin. The fire had properties of cursed death and frenzy, a combination that should not exist, a contradiction that could not be resolved.
The Frenzied Jason burned.
He did not scream. Did not struggle. Did not have time. In an instant, he was gone—consumed, erased, reduced to ash that scattered across the yellow ground.
Jason did not watch him fall. His gaze had already shifted.
He looked at Sukuna.
"Nor am I someone that adapts and learns a power just to survive."
Sukuna stood at the edge of the pillars, his four eyes fixed on the throne, his expression caught somewhere between rage and amazement. His hands glowed with the Frenzied Flame.....he had learned it, claimed it, made it his own. He had adapted.
It would not save him.
Jason snapped his fingers again.
Sukuna did not run. He did not dodge. He stood there, watching the black-yellow flame crawl across his skin, and he smiled.
"You dominated the flame itself." His voice was calm, almost approving. "Allowed it to burn from within itself." The flames reached his face, consuming his tattoos, his eyes, his smile. "Foolish. You'll end up dead."
He closed his eyes.
He did not scream.
The flame consumed him, and Sukuna was gone....finally, completely, erased from the space where he had lived inside Jason's soul. The last trace of the King of Curses vanished into ash.
Jason watched the silence.
The pillars burned. The skulls oozed black. The yellow ground flickered.
He spoke.
"I am the one that dominates the flame itself."
He stood up from the throne.
"I am the Lord of the Frenzied Flame."
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If you Like this story! Check out my other story ! Shadow Monarch in Danmachi!
AND Fate/DC Universe: The Master
If you wish to read more or simply support me just because ? than check out my patréon at
"https://www.patréon.com/Riadooo"
You can Get Access to 3 More Chapters OR 7 More Chapters if you want !