It started out as a rather uneventful day at the Scarlet Devil Mansion. Business went about as normal as far as its residents were concerned; Meiling guarded the gate, Patchouli and Koakuma spent their day in the study, Sakuya made sure everything were spotless should her Mistress Remilia awake from her sleep, and Flandre… no one had really checked on her in a while, but she never really left the basement anyways, so there wasn't much- if anything- to worry about when it came to Flandre.
Then… something strange happened. It was a mundane occurrence, but definitely out of the ordinary in the librarian's eyes…
"Hmmm…?" she had noticed something… off. A single book out of the tens of thousands out of place. "This shouldn't be here…" All that time she had spent re-alphabetizing everything (with the help of Koakuma, of course) after a rather volatile confrontation with a certain black-and-white-clad book thief… could it be that one of them missed something? The Scarlet Devil Mansion's library was massive… yet this one book just seemed so out of place where it was.
"I don't recall even owning this book in the first place…" Patchouli muttered tiredly. "Strange… it has… no title…" She used her sleeve to wipe the thick layer of dust off of the cover, although that didn't give her any more information on the origins of the mysterious tome. Curious, Patchouli opened up the cover, flipping through the pages to get some more insight on the contents.
"Strange… this book… appears to be handwritten… like a journal perhaps," she thought out loud. Skimming through the suspected diary, Patchouli came across a passage she hoped would shed some light on the author of the unknown book.
This world- Makai- has become my home now… It has taken me a very long time, years perhaps, to adjust to this demonic dimension, but it seems that I have finally become accustomed to this place.
The Creator of this world, however… She is different. Young. Powerful, but still young for a deity. I am almost certain that I surpass her in terms of age- and power, as well… I have been submissive thus far in order to gain her trust, but now I see no reason to bow to a being inferior to me…
As strange as it feels, I feel like I am beginning to outgrow my destiny as an eternal 'follower.' I am defying my very nature as a blind servant… No more will I unscrupulously obey a ruler who sees me as a monster… a mistake… I am no one's messenger…
I am… XXXXXX… bringer of death… summoner of misery… harbinger of the end times… my onset of destruction begins now!
Patchouli squinted at the faded, scratched out name near the bottom of the page. "If I cannot find the name… I will determine the original owner of this journal through the information contained within…" Whoever had written the entries was living in Makai, and mentioned a 'creator,' which Patchouli knew was Shinki. Though she had never met Shinki personally, she had read of her. The goddess and creator of Makai, but that was the extent of her knowledge on the subject. At least, what she could remember of it…
"'Bringer of death… summoner of misery… harbinger of the end times…'" she repeated, yawning. "I must have read of such a title somewhere… but to whom does it belong to?" She felt herself growing drowsy. "Perhaps I should take a rest, then I can search for the answer…"
When Patchouli awoke, the curious book she had been reading was… different. The entry she had left off on was the last one in the book, but now it seemed that there was more on the next page… What she came across was certainly… unnerving to say the least…
DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE
Over and over it was written on the page in shocking red ink… which smudged whenever Patchouli brushed her fingers over the words… The writing was recent, created only a few minutes ago at the most… The handwriting of the newly written page was… scarily similar to the rest of the entries that came before it… Patchouli flipped through the remaining pages; all containing that same three-letter word, scratched in crimson red. "Die," it filled up the entirety of the remaining pages… Each page's contents fresher than the last.
"This doesn't look like the handwriting of anyone else in the house…" she said to herself, somewhat creeped out. "Even young Flandre knows better than to pull such childish pranks like this…" Was the author right in this room with her? If no one else had written it, and the writing wasn't there before (considering that the ink was still wet and Patchouli had a near-perfect memory, that was almost certain), it would be the only logical conclusion. That still left the question of who said author was, and how they managed to get into the Scarlet Devil Mansion. Well, the latter was relatively easy to answer, since Meiling was often caught sleeping on the job… but who…?
"You know… it's very… rude… to look through… someone's diary…" an unfamiliar voice whispered in Patchouli's ear. The poor, anemic librarian didn't even have time to turn around and face the speaker before everything suddenly went black.