Muzan walked into the room and sat down. There were no candles to brighten the room but Muzan was right at home in the darkness. The windows showed no moon, only the black clouds that dotted the sky. The Demon King slowly crossed his legs, leaning back on the chair. His left fist went to prop his head up while his right hand slowly raised into the air. Little by little, a lump formed in the open palm. The lump expanded, sprouting hair. Eyes, a nose, two ears. A mouth.

Muzan recreated a human head right there in his palm. And the moment the mouth came to be, the head started to scream.

Muzan quickly shut off the pain receptors in the brain. He had 700 years of experience to mess with people. He explored every inch of the human body, learning and understanding how each organ works. When it comes to history and science, very few others were his equals. Muzan had brought up the human cells of the person he absorbed and molded them into shape. And of course, the man would scream. To be alive, his brain was connected to Muzan's hearts. It wasn't something a human body was built to withstand. Not his blood, nor his body.

"D- Demon," the man uttered.

Muzan stared him down. "Not a god?" he asked.

"The Lord is Righteous and Good. You are an agent of the Devil! Nay, perhaps even the Devil himself!"

That was who the man was. A devout believer in a faith that had no grip on the island of Japan. A Priest, leader of a dying breed. It was a rarity. A group of people that fascinated Muzan since their appearance in the 1500s. "I'm a force of nature, father. That's what you make others call you, right? Father. As if you're their father figure. A spiritual leader."

"That's not what they call us," the priest rebuked. "Father is used for priests who take confessions and others.

"Oh? Then what do they call you?" Muzan asked.

"Stop with these useless meandering questions! What do you want, demon?"

Muzan narrowed his eyes just slightly. The priest's eyes bulged as the pain returned tenfold, but his vocal cords were shut off so he could not emphasize his suffering with sound. The moment passed and Muzan released him from his torture. "Tell me, father," Muzan started. "I have been alive for centuries. Throughout all of these years... not a single being was able to stop me. Not even that one..."

Muzan grit his teeth in a momentary show of anger. His face returned to calm. "I have control over life and death. I can create and I can destroy. What am I if not god?"

"You create nothing! You are an abomination! A cursed making of the Devil!"

It was the zealotry that piqued Muzan's interest in the religion. So far, he had only experience with the more spiritual religions of Japan. A guidebook to life rather than a rulebook. Gods and myths to strengthen family and power. Yet there were so many others out there, telling the story of an almighty creator. "700 years and I have not seen a God nor a Buddha. Tell me, then. If I am so evil, why do the Heavens not punish me?"

"You will get your due. Kill me now. I will go to Heaven, where the Saint Peter will await me and welcome me into their silver halls."

"No. Beg. Pray as your kind does to your god. Tell him to strike me down if he exists. Tell him to spare your life and send divine intervention! Tell him to come down and meet me!" Muzan screamed. "If he exists, if he's out there, tell him to stop hiding!"

This was the moment. Would God strike him down for his blasphemy? Was this the end of his 700-year crusade to find true immortality? Was he, he who was close to perfection, to be destroyed by a man in the sky? Yoriichi flooded Muzan's brain and he snarled. "No..." the priest choked. But there was hesitation in his voice. Still, he carried on. "He has His plan.

I will not beg for your amusement. I will die with honor and take the hand of God and His angels. You will get yours soon enough."

Muzan stopped, eyes widening. His face slowly shifted back to a neutral façade. He realized it now. It was simple. The man in front of him was an idiot. A moron who believed in a fairy tale. A god stood before him, controlling his very brain, yet he refused to give in to the truth. That was the revelation. Religion was nothing special.

Not in the face of true power. A true force of nature. "How sad it must be, to live the life of an idiot."

"Burn in hell," the priest said.

Muzan closed his fist.

Chapters 1 and 2 edited and reuploaded.