Blood splattered in the wall. A decapitated body staggered back before it knelt and slumped onto the ground, blood slowly pooling underneath. It was followed by its severed head. The man's eyes were still wide open, lifeless. His mouth gaping in shock, a generous amount of blood was dripping from it.

Panicked voices and terrified screams echoed through the temple's narrow halls, desperate calls for their leader's help, hopeful that he will come rescue them from the demons that were rampaging.

He is their God, so it is his duty to save them, like he always did. But where—

"Douma-sama!"

Where is he?

Voices got louder and louder, turning more high-pitched and intelligible. There was squelching, sounds of flesh being crushed, of bones being broken—!

There was a buzzing sound.

In contrast to the chaos, Douma's room was completely enveloped with silence. The soft light of the lamp illuminated his pale features as he lay facial the ceiling. His eyes were blown wide, his breathing laboured and sweat was gleaming on his forehead.

He became motionless for a moment then exhaled, relaxing his tensed muscles.

There was a soft wind coming from the tiny open gaps of his window, making the fire on the lamp flicker until it was completely extinguished. Not even a second later, his room bathes in pitch black darkness.

Douma inhaled and calmly sat up, his expression was now hidden by the veil of darkness, but the rapid thundering of his heartbeat gave away what he truly felt.

His followers scream continued to echo inside his mind, slowly driving him to paranoia. He could almost see their reaction; the waning hope in their eyes gradually replaced by despair.

He took a shuddering breath and covered his ears. He couldn't bear to listen. He just couldn't bear the screams, the sounds. He couldn't, even if he knew that they weren't even—

A strong gust of wind blew open his window, sending goosebumps running through his skin. He stood up and hastily closed the windows, locking it and letting out a sigh of relief.

'They're not real. My followers are sleeping peacefully in their beds; not being slaughtered, not being mauled. They're fine!' He told himself, unaware of the shadow with a pair of plum red eyes that loomed behind him and observed his every move.

"Douma."

His whole body went stiff when a soft velvet voice drifted in his ears. He forced himself to act naturally before cautiously turning around to face his intruder, but he was unable to see the person's face, only their rough outline. The person, definitely a man, was shorter than him. He can actually tell it despite the darkness surrounding them.

"Yes, that's me. Are you in need of assistance?" Although he was quite sure that he did not know whom the voice belonged to, it seems that they knew him, considering how the other could call his name so casually.

None of his followers even dared to—

His eyes widened when he realized that the man had trespassed his temple.

"Do I know you?" Instinctively, his lips curved and formed a fake smile. But he wiped it off after remembering that the other person could not see his face.

Or at least that's what he thought as a pair of bright pinkish eyes took in his reaction. A faint curiosity flashed within them.

Douma stiffened when he heard the other person scoff in amusement, "No, not yet."

"Really~?" A humorless chuckle escaped from his lips before he could stop it. He immediately disguised it with a cough, "Are you here to ease your problems?"

He heard another ear piercing scream, and he internally winced. He willed himself not to twitch, not to cringe. There was someone in front of him, a stranger, and he could not afford to disgrace himself.

'It's not even real. It's not.' He repeated again and again until the voices grew weaker.

"Or was it something like that?"

"Something like that."

The person— demon, his mind whispered— gradually approached him with heavy steps. The shorter their distance became, the faster his heartbeat.

He looked down, and his blank multi colored orbs met with a pair of demonic cerise eyes. His breath hitched.

Their height difference didn't even affect the menacing aura that the demon excluded.

"Douma."

The person— no, the demon called his name filled with gentleness and patience, but with a sense of authority that made him shiver. A deep ingrained instinct he never knew he had, screamed at him to kneel, to worship the very ground that the demon walked on.

He had to bite his tongue to prevent the name that was threatening to spill from his mouth. It took him a moment to compose himself.

The name continued to sit on his tongue, and for a brief moment, he realized that he could no longer spit them out.

Forcing himself to lift the corners of his mouth, he gave the demon a faint smile, "Yes...?"

His fingers twitched in alarm when his door slid open with a loud thud, the wood cracked and broke into splinters under the force that was used in the action. The corner of Douma's lips twitched and he struggled to maintain his smile.

His followers would be distraught with what was happening if they ever knew, not that he'd ever tell them. But the evidence was right there, and he'd have to make another excuse, another lie.

"Muzan-sama!" The name rang a bell in his head, followed by a rush of nostalgia. It was familiar and unfamiliar at the same time.

How strange...

A muscular man with pink hair and peculiar tattoos stomped inside, and as soon as their eyes met, a scowl immediately appeared on the man's face.

"Akaza." The demon, Muzan, acknowledged him.

"... Muzan-sama, do we really have to turn him this time around?" Akaza whispered in distaste and gave him a brief glance, still glaring.

"Are you doubting my decision, Akaza?" Muzan calmly asked, never taking his eyes from Douma.

Akaza bowed his head, "No, Muzan-sama."

Douma tilted his head and felt that it was strange. His blank eyes flash with an unknown light, "What is it that you need from me?"

Another demon stepped inside his room, with three pairs of eyes and long red burgundy hair that was tied to a ponytail. The demon looked at him indifferently.

"... You don't remember?"

He blinked, "Remember what?"

They looked at the questioning look from the former, or future— upper moon two and somehow felt an itch to sock his clueless face.

No matter what time, whenever it was from the past, or future— until now, he was still the same annoying Douma. And what's even more annoying is that he wasn't even trying this time.

"Douma." Muzan stepped closer, the demon's aura enveloped him before he felt cold fingers trailing off his cheek.

"Yes?" He obediently bowed his head and looked at the demon's cerise eyes as if he was hypnotized.

"Become a demon."

His pupils dilated before a pair of mesmerizing green eyes flashed in his vision, eyes full of gentleness and something foreign to him. Then it was followed by a pair of furious purple orbs that seemed to pierce the very center of his soul, containing nothing but hatred and loathing.

And before he knew it, he opened his mouth and replied,

"... I can't."

Sounds of terrified screams grew louder and louder in his mind. It made him wonder if they're really just a figment of his imagination or not.

Douma staggered back and looked at them with a dazed expression, but his eyes shone with a determined light. His pale complexion looked brighter under the moonlight from his opened door.

"I can't." He repeated, his voice much firmer than before.

The three demons were stunned.