Chapter 185: Blueprint of a Monster
Ryomen Sukuna.
The strongest in history.
'He had no true equal in all of his life. Sure, Gojo came close, but even Gojo could not match Sukuna in the end. Even he fell in front of Sukuna… In my opinion, Sukuna is the perfect sorcerer; he has everything: the drive to win, his unshakable ideology, the Perfect Reversal cursed technique, and a brilliant mind. And did I forget? He also had a seemingly limitless cursed energy pool, a domain that defies all logic, and a cursed technique that had even me at one time wondering what the fuck it even was…'
I laughed under my breath. The sound came out sharp and bitter.
'In my past life, I remember making theories online—insane lobotomy-level threads—about what Sukuna's cursed technique truly was. And the truth? Even now, I don't fully understand it. But if I'm not wrong, his cursed technique is "Shrine." Two main parts: Cleave and Dismantle. Cleave cuts anything Sukuna touches. Dismantle is a slash he can throw even without moving.'
I stood up, tucking my notebook under my arm. The dorm room was too cramped, too suffocating. The moonlight spilling through the window looked freer than me.
Quietly, I slid the door shut behind me and stepped outside.
The night air was cold, brushing against my skin like it wanted me awake. The campus was quiet, with only the buzz of cicadas and the far-off hum of neon vending machines in the distance. My footsteps echoed faintly on the stone path as I walked.
'But that's not even the end, is it? Sukuna doesn't stop there. When he uses Cleave and Dismantle in a row, he can also use Fūga, Divine Flame. Not just slashes—flames that sear. And beyond that? Metamorphosis. Sprouting extra eyes and mouths casually, like it's just another Tuesday. Incarnation into vessels. His very existence as a cursed object, almost impossible to kill unless bound to flesh.'
I clenched my jaw.
'Ha, fuck… I almost forgot how much of a cheater he really is. He can do everything and more. It's funny, isn't it? I have a technique that lets me copy other cursed techniques, and I still can't do half the shit Sukuna does casually.'
The gravel crunched under my shoes as I crossed into the courtyard, moonlight shining on the vending machine at the edge.
'So how? Why? What the hell? The answer is simple. Something I've been using, abusing, ever since I woke up in this world. Binding vows. That's the secret.'
My lips curled into a grin.
'I had a theory back when I read the manga… Sukuna's cursed technique was never truly two separate things. It was just one—"Cutting." But with binding vows layered upon vows, he twisted that single technique into a masterpiece. His masterpiece.'
I dug a pen out of my pocket as I walked, flipping my notebook open under the pale glow of the moon. The pages fluttered, catching the cold wind.
'There's proof. Take Divine Flames, for example. They're strong—catastrophic even—but slow. Too slow for a real battle with multiple enemies. So what did Sukuna do? He made a binding vow: Divine Flames only ignite when he faces one opponent. That self-limitation turned weakness into strength. Flames specialized for duels, concentrated to lethal perfection.'
I popped a coin into the vending machine, the metallic clink echoing in the stillness.
'But it doesn't end there. Because when Sukuna uses Divine Flames inside his domain, that vow collapses. Inside the Shrine, he isn't facing "one opponent." He's facing everything trapped inside. The binding vow becomes false and void. Which means? Flames without restriction. Flames enhanced. And maybe even another vow hidden beneath: all that is cut within his domain becomes fuel for those flames. The result? Power close to a nuclear strike.'
The can of soda dropped with a dull thunk. I picked it up, cracking it open with a hiss. The first sip burned cold, but it grounded me.
'That's my proof. That's why Sukuna's cursed technique became a killing machine. A foundation ability reshaped through vows into a divine weapon.'
I tapped the tip of my pen against the page, my thoughts sharpening with every heartbeat.
'So I have the blueprint. The strongest himself laid it out. Now it's my turn. I'll split my Red Stitch into two parts with a binding vow. One side for movement. One side as a weapon.'
The pen scratched against paper.
'Thankfully, I already know where to start. Movement is easy. I'll bind Red Stitch to my hands only. Threads can't come from anywhere else. In exchange, they'll be thicker, stronger, and sturdier. Not fragile strings—ropes, wires, webs.'
I paused, staring at the moon.
'Let's call it "Spider." Part One: Spider.'
I wrote the name in the margin, circling it twice.
'Spider will only ever come from my wrists. In turn, it'll be much stronger. Faster. Extending to impossible lengths. And another vow layered in—spider threads can't harm anyone directly. In return, they'll be even sturdier, even quicker, and near unbreakable.'
I leaned back against the bench, sipping the soda slowly as the ink dried on the page.
'Once I perfect Spider, Then I will perfect the theory on how I could split Red Stitch in two, and after that, the last part of the theory… The most exciting part is turning Red Stitch into a weapon..
The real evolution. Red Stitch sharpened into something lethal. Once I solve that… once I bind both halves together… my technique won't just be "useful." It'll be divine.'
The night was silent again, but in my chest, there was a rhythm, a pulse of certainty.
'All of this… a week at most. By the end, I'll be something else. Something stronger. Time to evolve. Time to grow.'