September 13th, 18XX
The demon stood amidst the blood-soaked streets, its breath visible against the thick, corrupted air. Its voice broke the silence, smooth and venom-laced:
"The corruption in this town is no joke," it mused, every word heavy with derision. "My powers are returning faster than I imagined."
The atmosphere responded like a living organism. The shadows of buildings stretched unnaturally, slithering like tendrils drawn to the demon's presence. A thick, oppressive fog rolled in—not natural, but summoned. The very world seemed to acknowledge the return of its predator.
It licked its lips.
"Shall we go to our final destination?"
Its gaze turned toward the towering manor at the end of the street—the noble's house.
Each step the demon took left a faint distortion in the air, like heatwaves over scorched earth. As it reached the wrought iron gates, they creaked open on their own, as though even the house itself dared not bar its path.
Inside, time felt suspended. The velvet curtains hung like funeral shrouds. The portraits on the walls seemed to whisper—accusations, memories, curses.
The demon stepped forward.
And then—steel sang.
Men emerged from the shadows—uniformed, armed, confident. They surrounded the demon like hunters who'd cornered a beast. But they failed to recognize that they were the prey.
The demon's smirk widened.
"Well, well, well. This town seems to enjoy hosting festivals all the time."
A familiar voice echoed across the vast, chandelier-lit hall, laced with arrogance and false confidence.
"So you've finally shown your true face, demon."
My breath caught. That voice.
"This voice... It's Mr. Lerrington!"
The demon tilted its head, amused.
"My true face? No, no, no. My real face is much more handsome than this. Sorry to disappoint you, Mr. Lerrington."
And then, from the top of the grand staircase, he appeared.
Step.
Step.
Step.
Mr. Lerrington descended slowly, deliberately, every step an assertion of power.
"If you seek revenge for your dear witchling," he sneered, "allow me to remind you of what transpired a few months ago."
His men laughed—mocking, careless.
But the demon was no longer listening. Something in the air had shifted. A foul scent. Familiar. Wrong.
Its expression soured as it raised a hand to its nose.
"...This smell... You're not human."
Mr. Lerrington barked a laugh.
"Hah! You jest. Is it because you're afraid you will lose that you make such unwarranted accusations?"
The demon sighed, long and slow.
"I'm getting tired. Let's end this, shall we?"
With a flick of a finger—chaos erupted.
The soldiers convulsed as their bodies crumbled into black mist. Their very existence unraveled into raw mana. The demon consumed it all.
Dark power surged through its veins.
Mr. Lerrington now stood alone, trembling—his smug arrogance shattered.
The demon approached, its grin like a crescent moon on a blood-red night.
"So why is a miniature spirit like you doing here, hmm?"
Mr. Lerrington's composure cracked.
"Mi-Miniature! How could you? I—"
But the demon's glare silenced him instantly.
"Hieks!"
What followed was a pitiful scramble.
"I just wandered around! Caught sight of this town! I-I killed the owner of the body and took over his life some time ago! Nothing else! I have no connection to any demons—I swear!"
Tears welled in the spirit's glowing eyes as it babbled like a child about to be punished.
The demon, mock-thoughtful, tapped a finger to its lips.
"So it was just luck."
A pause.
Then a decision.
The demon pointed at the spirit, then at itself.
The spirit blinked.
"Ermm… Yes?"
"From now on, you're my slave."
"S-S-Slave?!"
The demon's claws tightened on the spirit's cheek.
"Don't like it?"
"I-I love it! Please make me your slave!" the spirit cried.
A dark scroll materialized in the air—crackling with infernal script and glowing with cursed seals. As the contract bound the spirit, it collapsed to the ground, wailing.
"You Demon!"
"Just keep doing what you've been doing, understand?"
The spirit sniffled.
"How can I when you've already killed off all the humans and destroyed 90% of the town?"
The demon casually tossed its hair, as if swatting away the issue.
"Don't worry. I can fix it in a matter of seconds."
With a single, graceful motion, the ruined town shimmered. Buildings reconstructed. Flowers bloomed. Neon lights flickered to life. A bustling cityscape emerged—a perfect illusion.
"What about the humans?"
The demon waved again.
"There."
The town filled—families walking, children laughing, shopkeepers calling out.
Fake. All fake.
"These are just illusions. The humans who lived here are all alive—inside me," the demon said.
The spirit went pale.
"Won't we get caught?"
The demon's smile sharpened.
"Unless you're planning to tattle?"
"W-What? Of course not! I plan to be completely devoted to you! Starting this very second!"
"Call me Master."
"Eh?"
The demon's eyes narrowed.
"Unless you want to be punished?"
"No, Master!" the spirit cried, diving to the demon's feet and smothering its boots in kisses. "Oh, my Master. My sweet, beloved Master."
The demon kicked him away.
"Ack!"
"Looks like you've got energy left. Use that energy to bring more people into the town."
"Yes, Master!"
But then—a crack.
And a small voice called out.
"Daddy…"
The air shifted again.
The demon turned.
A little girl stepped from the hallway. Atop her shoulder—a king cobra, coiled and hissing.
The spirit gasped.
"Ah, Maria! You should be in bed, sweetie. What are you doing here?"
She ran to him, clutching his leg.
"Please forgive her, Master. She isn't taught to greet anyone yet," the spirit pleaded.
The demon studied the girl.
Her cheeks… remind me of something I used to eat… it mused.
It crouched before her, offering a gentle smile.
"Hello."
She peeked out, eyes cautious.
The demon reached into its coat and held out a candy.
"Would you like a candy, young lady?"
"Candy?" she asked softly, glancing at the spirit.
"Don't worry. I won't be mad," he assured her.
She stepped forward, took the candy, and nodded.
The demon gently patted her head.
"Such a sweet little girl." Its eyes flicked to the cobra.
"With a keen eye for pets."
The spirit swallowed hard.
Standing, the demon addressed them both.
"Well, I won't disturb you any longer. Goodbye, and have a pleasant day, Mr. Lerrington."
It glanced at the girl.
"You too, young lady."
The girl nodded. The demon returned it with a grin.
As the spirit escorted the demon to the exit:
"Goodbye, Mr. Witson."
The demon walked alone beneath the illusion of stars. Its lips curled in silent satisfaction.
Ronald's brows twisted into a knot.
"So the ghost we encountered was the demon?"
My eyes narrowed. "If that's so, then why on Earth did it look like an old man? It doesn't add up."
My thoughts whirled, stacking questions on questions.
'This whole thing… it's deeper than we thought.'
I turned the page.
"Let's continue reading."
Ronald nodded, his expression sober.
The weight of the truth pressed down on us like a stormcloud.
Whatever was coming next… we weren't ready for it.
But we had to face it anyway.