Jujutsu Kaisen: Moon of the Fallen King

🌕 JUJUTSU KAISEN: MOON OF THE FALLEN KING

Chapter 1: The Bloodline of the Moon

The wind whispered through the corridors of a distant Roman-Japanese palace — a strange yet beautiful blend of two cultures. Under a crescent moon, the walls echoed silence, a silence only broken by the hum of the night and the loneliness that clung to it.

In a large moonlit room, a six-year-old boy stood by the window, still as the shadows that danced around him. His silver eyes reflected the moon above.

“Why does the moon look lonely...?” Lucius whispered, his voice barely carried by the breeze.

A gentle voice answered from behind him — warm, soothing, maternal.

“Because, my son,” the voice said, “the moon sees what the sun cannot. It watches all that is hidden... including pain.”

Lucius turned slowly. His mother had entered — a graceful woman clad in flowing white robes. Her forehead bore a faint silver crescent, marking her as a Moon Priestess. Her presence was calm, sacred.

She knelt in front of her son and held him close. “One day, the moon will call to you,” she whispered into his hair. “You must choose whether to embrace it... or hide from it.”

That night, Lucius dreamt.

He saw a field of corpses and shadows writhing in pain beneath a blood-red eclipse. The sky groaned with cursed energy. Amidst it all, a voice — deep, ancient — echoed in his mind:

> "Ryomen... Sukuna... Do you remember who you are?

The world fears the night... but you were born from it.”

Lucius awoke with a gasp. His heart pounded. He looked at his small hands — faint cursed lines flickered on his skin like broken glass.

The next morning, Lucius walked alone through the bustling Roman market square. The crowd's noise was loud — but the mocking words were louder.

“Half-blood freak!”

“Your mother’s a witch!”

He tried to ignore them, but the sting was real. He clenched his fists. A soft purple glow flickered from within — cursed energy pulsed.

Suddenly, a shockwave burst from his hand, cracking the ground beneath him. Everyone froze.

Lucius blinked. His voice changed — deeper, unfamiliar:

> “Don’t touch what belongs to the moon.”

The children scattered. But Lucius didn’t feel proud. He was terrified.

That fear turned to horror when he returned home. Angry villagers were dragging his mother outside.

“Moon-worshipping demon!” one shouted.

“She cursed the children!” said another.

A priest raised his staff: “Burn her before her son becomes like her!”

Lucius screamed and rushed forward — but Roman guards held him back. His mother looked at him one last time, her voice barely audible:

> “Don’t let them change your heart, my son…

Even the moon cries when it’s full.”

And then the flames consumed her.

That night, Lucius sat alone before the ashes of the shrine. He did not cry. But something inside him — something gentle — had died.

His hands trembled. The cursed energy now moved freely through his veins.

> "If the moon sees all..."

“...Then let it witness what I will become.”

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