Inside the infant's mind, awareness stirred.
Hyiel—because that was the name he heard, the name that would define this life—existed in a haze of newborn confusion.
His body was too small. Too weak. Too limited.
But beneath the surface, buried like ancient sediment in the depths of an ocean, were things that didn't belong to an infant.
Memories.
Distant. Hazy. Like watching shadows play on a distant wall.
Battlefields soaked in blood. A throne built from the bones of the defeated. The screams of the dying, the thrill of absolute power, the title whispered in terror across an entire era.
King of Curses.
Sukuna's memories.
Hyiel couldn't understand them—not yet. His infant mind was too undeveloped to process a thousand years of slaughter and domination. But they were there. Waiting. Dormant. Like a vast library he would one day be able to access.
And beneath even those memories, deeper still in the fog of his nascent consciousness, was something else.
A vague recollection. Darkness. A voice that resonated with cosmic indifference.
"Four wishes. Choose."
He had asked for... something. Power? Strength? The details were impossibly hazy, like trying to remember a dream from years past.
But he knew—with a certainty that transcended conscious thought—that he had chosen this.
This body. This power. This life.
I asked for this, the thought barely formed, more instinct than cognition. I don't remember why. But I chose it.
And somewhere in that infant mind, a promise took shape.
I will make the most of it.
Years passed.
Hyiel grew quickly, his body developing at a rate that defied normal human growth. By the age of two, he could walk—all four arms coordinating with eerie precision that made even his mother pause. By three, he could speak in full sentences, his vocabulary and comprehension far exceeding that of any child his age.
The Witch Queen watched her son's development with a mixture of pride and apprehension. He was brilliant, there was no denying that. His magical aptitude was extraordinary, his mind sharp as a blade.
But there was something else about him. Something that made her ancient instincts whisper warnings.
The way his four light blue eyes would sometimes go distant, as if seeing things that weren't there.
The way he moved in combat training—his four arms flowing through patterns no one had taught him, techniques that seemed to come from muscle memory rather than instruction.
The way that accursed energy—that foreign, dark power—responded to him so naturally, as if it had always been part of him.
What are you, my son? she often wondered, watching him from a distance. What did I truly bring into this world?
She never spoke of his half-sister. The daughter who had left the forest years before Hyiel was even born, seeking freedom in the outside world.
Vanessa.
The Witch Queen had let her go, had watched her daughter flee to join those ridiculous Magic Knights, to live among humans and be "free."
It had hurt. But she had allowed it.
And now, she had a son. Her only son. The boy who should never have existed.
Would he leave too? Would he seek the same freedom Vanessa had?
The thought terrified her more than she cared to admit.
By the age of five, Hyiel had begun to truly understand the memories buried in his mind.
Sukuna's memories.
They came to him in flashes at first—images of combat, techniques executed with brutal efficiency, the sensation of curse energy flowing through channels that shouldn't exist in this world.
He would lie awake at night, staring at the ceiling of his small room in the Witch Queen's domain, and remember.
A sword cutting through flesh. The taste of victory. The weight of absolute dominance.
Techniques with names he'd never been taught: Cleave. Dismantle. Domain Expansion.
A world different from this one. Sorcerers. Curses. A completely different system of power.
But they weren't his memories. Not truly.
They were like watching a detailed play from the audience—vivid, immersive, but ultimately belonging to someone else. Someone called Sukuna.
The King of Curses, he thought, rolling the title around in his mind. That's who these memories belong to.
He remembered being him. Remembered the battles, the conquests, the absolute certainty of superiority that had driven a thousand years of slaughter.
But he also remembered being Hyiel. His mother's voice teaching him magic. The forest around the Witch Queen's domain. His own five years of actual lived experience.
So which am I?
The question haunted him as he grew.
Am I Hyiel who has Sukuna's memories?
Or am I Sukuna, reborn and pretending to be Hyiel?
He would test himself sometimes, deliberately accessing Sukuna's muscle memory. His four arms would move through combat forms he'd never practiced, striking with precision that belonged to centuries of experience.
It felt right. Natural. Like his body was simply remembering what it had always known.
But when he stopped and thought about it, those weren't his experiences. They were borrowed. Inherited. Given to him by... someone. Something.
The vague memory of darkness and a voice offering wishes lingered at the edges of his consciousness, always just out of reach.
I chose this, he reminded himself. I asked for power. I got it. But I don't remember the details.
Does it matter?
By the age of eight, Hyiel had made his decision.
He stood in a forest clearing, four arms spread wide, staring at his reflection in a still pond.
Four light blue eyes stared back—his mother's eyes, multiplied. Pink hair fell across his forehead—his mother's hair. Even his facial features resembled hers in some ways.
I look like her, he thought. Pink hair, blue eyes—her features in my face.
But then there were the things that marked him as different. The four arms. The second pair of eyes beneath the first. The black markings that covered his skin—sharp, clean lines forming patterns across his face, down his arms, across his chest. They pulsed faintly with curse energy, exactly like Sukuna's tattoos from the memories.
Sukuna's modifications on her foundation, he realized. I'm both. A blend.
He clenched all four fists, feeling both mana and curse energy respond to his will.
"I am Hyiel," he said aloud, his young voice steady and certain. "Son of the Witch Queen. Born in this world. This is my life."
He paused, feeling the distant weight of Sukuna's memories pressing against the edges of his consciousness. A thousand years of knowledge, combat experience, and ruthless philosophy.
"But I have his memories. His power. His techniques."
A slow smile spread across his face—sharp, confident, dangerous. The same smile Sukuna had worn countless times.
But this time, it was a conscious choice.
"I'll use them. All of them. I'll draw on his experience, his instincts, his strength."
He raised one hand, curse energy crackling across his skin.
"But I won't become him. I won't lose myself in his memories."
I am Hyiel. I just happen to have the accumulated knowledge of a thousand-year-old monster.
And I'll use that knowledge to become something even greater.
He focused on the strange power flowing through his body—the energy his mother called "accursed energy," the dark force that shouldn't exist in this world.
But it's mine now. Just like Sukuna's memories are mine.
Tools. Weapons. Advantages.
I'll use them all.
And with that thought, Hyiel began his true training.
He trained alone, mostly. The Witch Queen had other daughters, yes, but they were wary of him. Afraid.
He didn't blame them.
He was different. Wrong. A male witch who shouldn't exist, carrying power from beyond their reality.
So he trained in solitude, pushing himself relentlessly.
Testing the limits of Word Soul Magic—the power that responded to his thoughts and intent, reshaping reality with nothing but will.
He didn't know where it came from. Didn't remember asking for it specifically.
But he had it. And it was his.
He raised one hand toward a dead tree.
Fire.
Flames erupted instantly, consuming the wood.
He turned to a puddle at his feet.
Ice.
The water froze solid in seconds.
He looked at a boulder across the clearing.
Shatter.
The stone exploded into dust.
Simple commands at first. But as he practiced, as he experimented, they grew more complex.
More powerful.
And alongside Word Soul Magic, he honed Sukuna's techniques.
Curse energy reinforcement, making his body faster, stronger, more durable.
Cleave and Dismantle—invisible slashing attacks that carved through anything in their path.
Four-armed combat patterns that felt like breathing, muscle memory from a thousand years of slaughter guiding every movement.
But Hyiel discovered something else as he trained—Word Soul Magic wasn't just for reshaping the world around him.
It could reshape him.
He stood before another boulder, this one massive.
No friction.
He burst forward, feet gliding across the earth as if it were ice. The distance closed in a heartbeat.
Stone fists.
Rock materialized around all four of his hands, forming jagged gauntlets.
He slammed all four fists into the boulder simultaneously.
CRACK
The massive stone shattered under the combined force, his Word Soul-enhanced strikes pulverizing it completely.
Hyiel stepped back, the stone coating crumbling from his hands.
Two approaches, he thought, flexing his fingers. Pure magic from a distance, or enhanced combat up close.
He looked at a row of trees.
Turn to ash.
The first tree burst into flames, disintegrating in seconds.
Now the other way.
He charged the second tree.
Blade arms.
His four forearms sharpened, edges gleaming like polished steel.
He spun, all four blade-arms carving through the trunk in a single rotation.
The tree toppled, cut into clean sections.
Hyiel grinned.
Magic can reshape reality from afar. Or I can use it to make myself deadlier in close combat.
Both work. Both have uses.
Two power systems. Both devastating.
He would master them both.
Seven more years passed in intensive training.
Hyiel pushed himself relentlessly. The forest became his training ground, his testing arena. He cataloged techniques, refined his control, explored the boundaries of his power.
But the forest had limits.
And Hyiel was beginning to outgrow them.
By his fifteenth birthday, he had mastered the basics of both systems. Could use them interchangeably in combat. Could devastate opponents with thought-based reality warping or brutal cursed techniques.
But there was one thing missing.
One thing every mage in the Clover Kingdom needed.
A grimoire.
[End of Chapter 2: Memories of the King]