I rubbed my eyes, reeling from the revelations in the diary, and muttered under my breath, "What a plot twist."
Ronald massaged his temples, his brow scrunched in disbelief. "This is way too messed up and complicated for me." He paused, narrowing his eyes. "I can't believe what you said came true."
"Oui? What did I say?" I tilted my head, playing innocent.
"You said the evil demon will steal the painter's body to commit crime!" Ronald screamed, the frustration in his voice louder than the ghost's scream from earlier.
I rubbed my ringing ear. "Oh... Right. My bad."
'What are the odds it came true though…'
September 13th, 18XX
The demon walked through the moonlit streets in the still of the night, searching for a potential victim.
The town lay quiet, suffocating in a stillness that only deepened the unease. The moon hung unnaturally large, its light casting pale silver streaks that bled over rooftops like spilled ink. The demon's footsteps echoed softly against the cobblestones—unhurried, deliberate.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, I begged—Please, don't hurt anyone. But my prayers dissolved against the cold weight of inevitability.
It spotted him then—an elderly man wandering alone beneath flickering streetlamps. The man's pace was slow, his steps unsteady. The alley he entered was darker than night itself, the kind of shadow that even ghosts might avoid. The demon followed with calculated steps, slithering through the gloom like it belonged there.
"Hello," it whispered.
The old man startled, spinning around.
"Ah! Well, hello there, Mr. Witson," he replied with warmth that hadn't yet been stolen by the night. "It's been a while since we last crossed paths, hasn't it? I believe it was on that fateful night when Mr. Lerrington's ruthless bodyguards harassed you."
I froze. That voice, that face—it was him. The same old man who had once tended to my wounds.
The memory struck like lightning.
My heart swelled with a rush of affection. He saved me.
But the demon only smiled gently, masking the venom beneath its tongue.
"Ah, yes, indeed it has been... and thank you for tending to my wounds."
"Oh, there's no need for gratitude, young lad," the old man chuckled kindly. "Any compassionate soul would have done the same."
They walked side by side in shadowed silence, the old man leaning in conspiratorially. "I admire your courage in challenging Mr. Lerrington, even if it seemed a bit reckless. But do be cautious; he wields influence from a formidable force."
The demon nodded. "Your advice is invaluable, kind sir. I am eternally grateful to you for both your past deeds and your wisdom. May I be so bold as to ask for a favor, given all you've done for me?"
The old man's laugh was light. "Of course, young lad. I'd willingly give this insignificant life for someone like you."
That was the moment the demon's lips curled ever so slightly.
"Is that so?"
It guided the old man down a serpentine alley, offering false courtesy. "After you, good sir."
They descended into the silence between buildings. Shadows closed in tighter. Time slowed.
"This place seems rather perilous, young lad," the old man said, unease finally catching up to him. "May I inquire as to our destination?"
The demon didn't break stride. "Oh, where we're headed is a matter best left unspoken, for it marks your final journey."
The old man froze. He turned, eyes wide in horror. The crimson hue of the demon's irises shimmered like blood beneath moonlight.
"D-De-Devil…"
"Close," the demon murmured.
Then came the nightmare.
Its jaw dislocated with an audible pop—grotesque, unnatural. With one motion, it consumed him whole.
The alley fell dead silent.
The demon grimaced. "It's been quite some time since I've savored the taste of a human, but was it truly so repulsive?"
Turning from the alley, its frame straightened with new strength. A flick of its hand summoned a faint orb of ominous light—sickly violet, pulsing like a heartbeat. The walls around it twisted under the weight of the magic.
Then, with a simple motion, the demon crushed the light in its palm.
"Yet it's not enough," it muttered. "I need more power."
Its silhouette merged again with the night, wings folded tightly behind its back. Red eyes scanning, hunting.
September 13th, 18XX
From the shadows of the diary, I watched in helpless horror.
The demon tore through the quiet streets like a silent tempest. Not with noise, but with dread—each step, each victim, fed its growing power. With every stolen life, its aura thickened, spreading like smoke through the alleys.
I couldn't look away. Even as my soul trembled and ached.
Please… Someone stop it.
But no one came.
Until—finally—the town's defenses stirred. Soldiers, policemen, exorcists—figures armed with rifles and swords alike emerged, their eyes full of wary resolve.
They weren't just here to stop a monster. They came to kill a nightmare.
The demon stood at the heart of the blood-soaked street, as if waiting.
"Is this a welcoming party for me, perhaps? What a pleasant surprise this is," it said with mock delight, lips curling with disdain.
The police chief stepped forward, voice thunderous.
"This is the place for your burial, demon! If you surrender, we will consider to kill you as mercilessly as possible."
The demon laughed—laughed. Not the chuckle of a madman, but the euphoric joy of a creature that had long missed the taste of freedom.
"Oh, you ignorant mortals," it mocked. "You wish for me to surrender? How foolish. Can you even kill me if I surrender? Ah… How long has it been since I laughed like this?"
The chief didn't waver. "So you won't surrender?"
"No. I won't."
"Fire!"
An explosion of gunfire tore through the silence. The night lit up with bullets and sparks.
But the demon had already taken to the sky.
Its wings unfurled wide, blotting out the moonlight. It danced through the barrage like a wraith, spinning, diving, flickering out of range. For a heartbeat, it looked almost beautiful—death incarnate in flight.
And then it decided it had played enough.
A flick of its hand. The air tightened.
"Adieu."
The energy formed at its fingertips burst forth like a comet. It didn't explode. It erased—space, matter, and men swallowed in the blink of an eye.
The gunfire ceased.
Ash drifted where soldiers had once stood.
The demon landed slowly. Graceful. Regal. Terrifying.
"Now, shall I clean up this town?"
Its red eyes glimmered, and I knew… somewhere beyond the barricades and broken homes, there were eyes watching. Trembling. Hiding.
And the demon… was not done.