Darkness cloaks the city. Sirens wail. Crowds scatter in panic, tripping over the fallen. Soldiers march through the streets, shouting commands. The sound of gunfire tears the air apart.
["They call me a genius. To others, I am a monster. And to those who truly know me… I am the Demon."]
The camera follows the chaos—people shoving, screaming, clutching their children. Soldiers fire into the crowd. Voices rise:
"He's here! He's here!"
["My name is Saotora Takeda. I was born with no parents… no relatives, no home. Japan's slums raised me, and before I even learned to speak, I learned how to steal. Every beating taught me how to fight. Every scar carved survival into me. By the time I was a teenager, I ruled the streets with nothing but my fists. They feared me… and fear became my crown."]
---
Farther down the war-torn street, a military command vehicle screeches to a halt. Inside, a general leans forward as a frantic soldier delivers the report.
"General! We've confirmed it—Saotora Takeda is in the city!"
The general's eyes narrow like a drawn blade. "So the Demon finally shows himself…" He slams a fist onto the table. "All units, tighten the perimeter. Deploy heavy squads to Sector 7. Prepare for engagement. I don't care what it takes—do not let him escape."
The soldiers salute, boots pounding against metal as orders ripple through the ranks.
["They think numbers will stop me. They still believe walls and guns can hold back a storm."]
---
Bullets slam into walls. Blood spatters the pavement. People fall, crying for help. Soldiers storm forward, their boots pounding like war drums.
["But even demons are foolish. I trusted the wrong people. I was betrayed more times than I can count. And then… I met him. A boy, my age, blind… yet he saw more than I ever could. He taught me things I never believed in—right, wrong, mercy. Because of him, I learned to spare lives. Because of him, I learned restraint. For the first time, I thought maybe… maybe I could be more than the monster they named me."]
Flashes of memory: a blind boy smiling, hands reaching out; Takeda surrounded by allies, his syndicate growing, the slums slowly becoming quieter, safer.
["Years passed. The violence waned. The slums that once bled every night… began to heal. I learned to care. I learned to love. I learned… to trust. And I believed—foolishly—that I had escaped my curse."]
---
Through the smoke, a lone soldier staggers into view, clutching his bleeding side. His rifle dangles uselessly from his fingers as he collapses against a crumbling wall. His eyes widen when he sees the shadow that approaches—me.
"W–wait," he gasps, coughing blood. "I… I didn't mean for this to happen. The civilians… the boy… it wasn't supposed to—"
I stop a step away, my boots sinking into the blood-slick pavement. Grief coils like a serpent in my chest, but my voice is stone.
["…You pulled the trigger."]
The soldier shakes his head, trembling. "Please… I had orders—"
I raise my gun. My eyes meet his. No hatred. No mercy. Only the weight of everything I have lost.
["…Orders don't wash away blood."]
BANG.
The shot echoes like a hammer of judgment. His body slumps forward, lifeless.
For a heartbeat, the world stops. Then—chaos reignites. Soldiers scream orders, boots pound against the asphalt, rifles blaze.
["Another life taken. Another soul added to the mountain of corpses that follows me. And still… the emptiness grows."]
---
Gunfire grows louder. Soldiers shout. People scream. Blood pools in the gutters.
["But fate never spares demons. One by one, the people closest to me died. Accidents, they called them. Coincidences. But I knew better. And when they killed him—my only true friend, the blind boy who saved me—something in me broke. The life I built… burned to ash."]
The chaos intensifies: explosions, cries for mercy, bodies dropping on the street.
["How did I come to this? My family… all gone. I searched, I tore apart every organization, clawing for the truth, desperate to find the one who took them from me. But every step I take leads only to blood."]
The camera pans—corpses litter the street. Soldiers and civilians alike lie lifeless. Blood seeps through the cracks of the road. Silence slowly replaces the chaos.
["Where did I go wrong? …When did it go wrong?"]
In the middle of the carnage, I kneel. My body is broken, blood running down my face and hands. I kneel upon the pile of the dead, trembling, my breath shallow. My eyes shine with grief—not rage, not pride, only despair. In the background: the faint cries of a child, the groans of the wounded, the whispers of those too close to death.
["Now that I have taken revenge… now that I've killed the one who killed them… what now? This… emptiness? Was this the price? The blood of the innocent, the cries of the dying… all for a hollow victory. I thought revenge would fill the hole in my heart. But instead… it has left me with nothing."]
I lower my head, surrounded by silence, bodies, and the faint sob of the child echoing in the ruins.
["…Is this really how my story ends?"]
---
Fade to black.
Nothing. Silence. Coldness. I drift in the void, my body weightless, my soul trembling. Then—faintly—there is a light. Small. Fragile. Calling to me like a whisper in the endless dark.
["…Is this… the end? If I walk into that light… will I finally see them? My family? My friend?"]
As if someone is calling to me, I reach toward it. The light swells, and as it engulfs me, sound returns. A deafening roar of wind—sharp and cutting—tears through my ears.
Leaves hiss and shiver like frightened birds. The air is alive, restless. It isn't a storm… yet it feels like one. The sky above is pure black, the kind of darkness that swallows sunlight whole. No lightning. No thunder. Just a heavy, endless night—like a solar eclipse without the ring of fire. And still, I can see the world around me, faint and cold, as if the darkness itself glows.
My eyes begin to open. Slowly, the dark clears. Trees stretch upward around me—tall, sturdy, their branches trembling beneath the violent wind. A forest… but not a dense one. Gaps between the trees let me glimpse the sky where shadows move.
Something is flying up there. At first, I think they're crows—dark shapes wheeling like vultures against the black sky. But as my eyes focus, the truth crawls into my mind. These are no birds.
Their bodies are round, almost like black, bloated orbs. Two jagged horns curl from their swollen frames. Dark wings beat against the void, scattering gusts strong enough to shake the forest. Where eyes should be are only hollow sockets burning with a sickly inner glow, and from their backs whips a long, tail-like lash tipped with a dagger-sharp blade.
The sound they make is worse than their sight—a croak that swells into a shriek, deep and bone-rattling.
My breath catches.
["…Those… aren't crows."]
I blink, trying to understand, when something stirs beside me.
On the cold grass lies a human figure—a woman in tattered robes, her clothing ragged and dirt-stained. Her chest does not rise; her skin is pale as ash. Around her, smaller crow-things peck at her eyes with their sharp tails and tear at the fabric of her robes with their razor-like teeth.
My tiny body trembles. I try to move, but my arms—soft, small, unfamiliar—barely respond. A baby's arms.
["Why…? Why is my body like this? I… died. I know I died. So why am I alive again? Where… is this place?"]
The wind howls harder, bending the trees until they creak like bones. Above, the horned creatures circle lower.
Then one of them locks its hollow gaze on me—
—and screeches, a piercing, guttural cry that rips through the forest as the others follow, their wings churning the black sky.
Their shrieks are aimed at me. They've seen me.
And then—
---End of Chapter 1---