18 years after the death of Himmel the Hero, in the Great Sanft Forest, located in the northern lands
Sukuna dipped a cut of bread into his soup, letting it soak up the broth. He pulled it out shortly after, taking a bite, and frowning. It was like Heben was afraid of salt. She had to learn that seasoning their food wasn't going to kill her.
Mom was going to do that before that ever happened.
"JUST WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING, YOUNG LADY?!"
Like so.
"WHAT ARE YOU THINKING, GOING OUT TO MEET A STRANGE BOY AT THIS HOUR?!" His mom bellowed, meal forgotten as she stood chest to chest with her daughter, almost as tall as her mother.
"I'M AN ADULT MOM, YOU CAN'T JUST DEMAND I DO WHATEVER YOU WANT, AND HE ISN'T STRANGE, TRÜGEN IS KIND AND POLITE!" Heben yelled back just as loud.
Sukuna looked at his dad, the picture of serenity pasted across his face as they both ate.
"Is mom always loud when she's mad?" Sukuna asked, wincing as the two ladies of the house continued to shout.
"It's a habit from her family." He answered easily, Sukuna needing to read his lips to get the full idea of what he was saying over the screaming match.
"Why did you even marry her then?" Sukuna asked, finishing his bread.
"I love the type of woman who could actually just kill me." He answered with a smirk.
Sukuna made a disgruntled face, and his father laughed.
This, of course, was all planned. Well, not the part where he found out his dad was most certainly a deranged masochist, but the matter of Heben getting in trouble. He had asked Heben what that boy's name was, which had set off an avalanche of questions from around the table until she had spilled her after-dinner plans.
"You know," Sukuna's dad started. "Your mom has always said that Heben was the easier birth of you two."
"CAUSE SHE WAS!" Sukuna sat up straight, spine stiff as a rod as the raging demoness reared its head at them, then back to Heben. "I'VE HAD PERIODS HARDER, LONGER, AND MORE BLOODY THAN YOU, YOU LITTLE SHIT!"
"HOW ABOUT YOU DON'T TALK ABOUT YOUR MONTHLIES, YOU OLD HAG, YOU DON'T EVEN GET THEM ANYMORE!" Heben retorted, and then paled as the realisation of what she said crashed down upon her like thunder. Their mom let out a wordless yell, and Heben turned, running out of the living room with mom hot on her heels.
""Well, she's dead."" Sukuna and his dad said at the same time, hearing the impact of a belt meeting ass. His dad stood up, sighing as he took both of their bowls.
"I brought that up to ask you to be more reasonable when you're Heben's age," he explained. "You were a difficult birth for her, so try not to be a difficult kid as well."
Sukuna blinked, all four of his eyes. "Uh…sure."
"Thanks," His dad said. "You should go outside, enjoy the night air, and practice your magic some more. I…gotta make sure your mother doesn't kill Heben."
Sukuna snorted, standing up. "Aren't you afraid she's gonna kill you instead?"
It was time for his dad to snort back, rolling up his sleeves. "I said I like a woman who would just kill me. Doesn't mean I'm gonna make it easy."
Sukuna decided then was the time to walk outside, hearing his fathers attempts to save his only daughter from his wife, her mothers, wrath.
He moved around the side of the house, ducking under the window to his sister's room that overlooked his little dirt patch he practiced magic on, and picked up his earlier discarded sickle.
He didn't have the time to try and develop his cursed technique with mana, not to deal with this. He would have to do as regular men do. With his hands.
The old well was just that, an old well that had once been the focal point of commerce within their little village. That was, however, until a fire had ruined almost two thirds of the buildings, about 60 years before Sukuna had been born. One of those had been the church as well. When rebuilding, they opted to set a fountain in its courtyard, and the ease at which people could get water from a fountain meant the well became underused, only frequented in the hot months of summer when everyone was parched, and in fall by the field laborers, as it was closer.
He could see, from the edge of the village proper, out into the half reaped fields, that there was the glow of a lantern there at the old well. To help guide his sister to this thing.
As he approached, Trügen followed him, but did not meet him. Sukuna walked without hurry, adjusting his grip on the sickle as he did. Until they were face to face.
"I take it, Heben isn't coming?" Trügen asked.
"No, she isn't." Sukuna responded, just as coldly.
"Did you eat her before me?"
Sukuna narrowed his four eyes on them. "Why would I?"
"Oh." Trügen tilted their head. "You…are just human. I thought you may have been a demon, what with…" He trailed off, gesturing to Sukuna. He knew what he meant.
"Are you one? A demon?" He asked. Trügen responded by lifting his hand, and a gossamer fell from around his head. Forming from the air, two white horns pushed out of his hair, following it along the top of his scalp.
"I think I will have you as my meal, and stay another day." Trügen said. "Heben will be so distraught that her little brother went missing. I'll be sure the last moments of her life are comfortable, as she finds your corpse in the treeline."
Sukuna felt emotion, thick and malignant, crawl up his neck.
"Don't worry, I'll make it quick, and put you out of your disfigured misery."
He was mad, mad that this thing could think it could kill him just because it had more mana. Angry that it might be right—
"Hah!"
—and furious at its insolent intentions with his older sister.
"The gall…."
He hadn't known the grip he had on his mana until it slipped.
It gushed from him. He likened it to the first cold drink one has in the morning, where you can feel it crawl down your throat. The lantern went out, leaving them basked in the light of the moon and stars only.
Witnessing the sudden outpouring of his mana, the demon stumbled back against the well, knocking the unlit lantern into it as he fell to the earth. He couldn't move away as this malformed little boy calmly walked up to him.
"You…" Trügen choked out, eyes bugging out of his skull. "What are you?!"
"A curse." Senken said quietly, lifting the sickle above his head.
The face of a pink haired boy surfaced within his mind.
"No…"
"What I am is a human, and a human is what will kill you."
The sickle fell, the demon Trügen not even making a final noise of fear. It sunk into his head, and the blow began flaking off into black ash. Senken stayed, making sure that it wasn't a trick. He hit the vanishing body two more times, both in the chest, and watched as it sped up its removal.
All that was left was the young boy, the sickle, and the stars.
It would remain as such for a while longer.
18 years after the death of Himmel the Hero, The Continental Magic Association, In The Holy City of Strahl, Central Lands
When one lives for as long as Serie has, one has to be resolute in the fact that time passes slowly, and without fanfare.
The days turn to weeks, months, years and decades without so much as anything interesting happening. Her apprentices work and toil to perfect their craft, and even still, it is the same march of time.
Serie was dozing in her chair, her legs curled under her and her cheek perched on her elbow. She had a nice, soft bed, but was simply too tired to move to it. This wouldn't be the first time, or the last, that she fell asleep in her chair.
She was, however, awoken as a sensation crawled over her, giving goosebumps. Languidly, she sat up, stretching as her elven ears flicked and she turned her head to gaze in the direction.
It was inescapable. Like a tsunami, a wave of mana that generated from the north and assaulted her fine-tuned senses.
She narrowed her perception, finding it to be resonating from the Great Sanft Forest.
A grin crawled across her face. She had not felt such reserves of mana in a very long time. It was otherworldly, sobering in the best way.
Whatever mage this was, they were a once in a millennium entity.
What fun.