25th March, 18XX
Years passed.
And with time, the shadows only deepened.
Bound by a cursed slave contract, the spirit served tirelessly at the side of its monstrous master. They had become an unholy duet, harmonizing in evil—a predator and its puppet. The demon continued to lure strangers into the town, feeding on their souls. And with each soul devoured, it grew stronger.
The mansion became a mausoleum of memories. The demon, ever the artist of horror, immortalized his victims through portraits—ghastly reminders sealed with the essence of their very souls, displayed like trophies in rooms that reeked of power and regret.
Even the exorcists who came to cleanse the rot met the same fate—ashes in the wind.
And through it all, the town remained a façade: beautiful, bustling, a ghost masquerading as paradise. A perfect illusion for the perfect predator.
But the demon's still-growing power came to an uneasy pause—
When they arrived.
An unknown presence stepped into town, unnoticed by the illusions but unmistakable to the demon.
"What a lively town," the stranger said.
A single sentence. And yet—something inside the demon snapped.
A dark ripple surged through its being. Its conversation with the spirit halted mid-word. Its hands trembled—not with fear, but with something far worse: a primitive sense of danger.
The demon's pupils dilated to blood red.
"This power… Grr…"
The spirit blinked in confusion
"What's wrong, Master?"
No reply.
The demon bolted out of the mansion like a black streak across the night, tearing through every alley, every shadowed corridor of the illusion-town in pursuit of the mysterious newcomer.
But the stranger was elusive. Every corner turned up empty.
It was deliberate.
This wasn't just a visitor. It was someone playing with the demon.
The hours crawled. Hunger gnawed at the demon's core. Night returned.
And finally—they met.
Bathed in the pallid moonlight, the demon found itself face to face with the stranger. Its smile was calculated. Deceptive. Laced with venom hidden behind silk.
"Is this your first time here, sir?" it asked, voice dripping with false warmth.
The unknown person tilted their head, eyes calm, unreadable.
"Oh yes. My friend and I came to town today and was hoping to have a place to stay. Though… he went missing once we entered the town."
The demon's grin widened.
"Is that so? Don't worry, I'll help you report it to the police, they will handle the matter. On the other hand, how about living with me for a while? My place has many empty rooms, if you wouldn't mind."
Oblivious to the trap, the stranger nodded.
The demon led its perfect prey through the gates of death, wrapped in the softest velvet of hospitality.
Inside the mansion, the stranger marveled at the grandeur.
"Your home is magnificent."
The demon chuckled.
"Thank you. It's been my family's for generations."
Every corridor breathed darkness. Every shadow whispered. But the stranger walked on, calm and unfazed. When they reached the guest room, the demon gestured.
"You can stay here for as long as you like."
"You're too kind. I appreciate your hospitality."
"Oh no. The pleasure is all mine."
And with that, the demon closed the door—a coffin disguised as comfort.
"Oui… So they're alive in the portraits?" I muttered, eyebrows scrunched in confusion.
"What do we do? We need to help them!" Ronald panicked and grabbed my arms, shaking me like a bobblehead.
Bonk.
I hit him lightly on the head.
"Maybe there's a clue inside, so chill."
Ronald nodded, rubbing his scalp. We turned back to the diary, hearts heavy with dread.
25th March, 18XX
The spirit materialized behind the demon like a flicker of fog.
"Who's that, Master?"
The demon didn't look back.
"A Shiragumi."
The spirit blinked.
"Shiragumi? What's that?"
"Humans with special souls," the demon explained with a predator's reverence. "Unique ones that you'll only find one in a million. One of their souls is equivalent to a thousand human souls."
The spirit's eyes gleamed.
"I see. A special human, huh? Let's devour his soul, Master!"
But the demon shook its head.
"Not yet. Not until I find that friend of his."
"Why? Do you suspect the friend might also be a Shiragumi?"
A sigh escaped the demon.
"Think, spirit. Shiragumi are rare. Highly sought after. Do you honestly believe demon hunters or exorcists would allow a Shiragumi to wander the world alone?"
"…Ah! I see. So, Master intends to eliminate the potential threat before feasting upon the main course. How brilliant, Master!" the spirit cheered, fawning.
The demon snapped its fingers.
"Enough chatter. Go and find the friend's whereabouts."
The spirit vanished.
The demon arrived at the center of its garden, only to find something was wrong.
The wind was too still. The silence too deep. The talismans—he hadn't placed those.
He was surrounded.
Each talisman pulsed with latent power, glowing faintly like smoldering coals.
And then—
"Light up."
BOOM.
The ground split.
A tsunami of fire and divine magic exploded into existence. The circle erupted into a violent storm of blinding light and thunderous force. The garden vanished under the tempest.
The very world shook.
But as the smoke cleared—
he was still standing.
Untouched. Unmoved.
Unharmed.
The demon stepped through the dissipating haze, eyes glowing like twin infernos.
"Is that all you got? I expected more than this. How disappointing."
The young exorcist stood frozen, mouth dry, disbelief in his eyes.
This wasn't how it was supposed to go.
The exorcist began chanting—desperate, invoking ancient rites, words lost to time. Sweat poured down his brow. Light flickered in the shape of ancient seals, fueled by everything he had left.
But the demon didn't move.
He watched.
"That looks interesting," the demon murmured.
He crossed his arms, waiting. And waiting. And—
"When is he done? If I knew the chant was going to be this long, I would've fed myself another hundred human souls."
The exorcist shouted the final line. The spell burst forth—divine light rained down like judgement.
It engulfed the demon.
For a moment… hope flared.
But then—
Nothing.
The demon dusted off his sleeve, inspecting his skin. A spark here. A tingle there.
"That's all?" he muttered in disbelief.
"I wasted so much of my time just to get sparkles on my body?"
A low growl built in his throat.
He had hoped—prayed, even—for a real fight. A proper test.
Not… this.
With a flick, a vortex of malevolent energy began to form at his fingertip.
The air twisted around it, gravity bending slightly.
The demon pointed his finger at the exorcist.
"Enough playing."
"Goodbye now, young hatchling."
A beam of black-red energy fired through the air like divine retribution reversed—hellfire shaped into a lance.
And it roared toward the exorcist.