The streets of Tokyo stank of blood. Devils fed freely, and the Devil Hunters were too scattered to keep pace with the outbreaks.
Suguru Geto walked among the corpses, robes immaculate, his smile calm. Behind him slithered curses, their grotesque shapes blotting out the streetlamps. And in the shadows, devils lurked, uneasy, their instincts warring between fear and hunger.
He raised his hand, and silence fell.
"Monkeys," he said softly, voice carrying even in the dead air. "Always weak, always frightened. You birth monsters from your fears, then pray for someone stronger to die in your place."
A small crowd of survivors huddled at the edge of the street. Desperate men and women—devil hunters without contracts, refugees too terrified to move. They should have run. Instead, they listened. His presence held them.
Geto's lips curved into a gentle smile, the kind a priest might wear.
"You have two roles in my world. Money-collecting monkeys… and curse-collecting monkeys. If you wish to live, you will serve. If you do not—"
He gestured lazily. A centipede curse shot forward, impaling a straggler. Blood sprayed across the pavement. The others screamed but did not flee. Fear rooted them in place.
"—then you are nothing more than food."
Behind him, curses coiled, devils slithered, and the line between the two blurred. The Gun fragment he had consumed lent his aura a metallic weight. The devils around him bowed—not out of loyalty, but primal terror. Geto's manipulation wrapped around them, pulling their essence into spheres of dark energy, devouring them one by one until obedience was the only law.
And so his army grew.
To the humans, he offered a twisted salvation. He promised protection from the devils—so long as they brought him victims, money, or information. Those who had no use were fed to his horde without hesitation.
To the devils, he was a higher predator. He gave them two choices: submit and become his, or be consumed.
And they obeyed.
It began in whispers. Survivors spoke of a Black Priest who could command devils themselves. Hunters who had once stalked monsters now found themselves caught between two terrors: the devils they feared, and the man who ruled them.
Geto stood before his growing congregation—curses lined in formation, devils kneeling like broken beasts, humans trembling in the rear.
A tear slid down his cheek.
"This," he murmured, voice breaking into a quiet laugh. "This is the world I've longed for. Sorcerers united. Humanity erased. Fear itself tamed."
He wiped his face, straightened his robes, and raised his hand.
"From this night forward, you will not call yourselves hunters or survivors. You are my family. Together, we will build a world where monkeys no longer decide our fate."
And in that ruined street, under the gaze of neon lights and devils that trembled like children, Suguru Geto's empire was born.