Limbo.
Akuma sprinted through the mist, his boots slamming into the ever-twisting earth. The fog around him pulsed with the heartbeat of something ancient, something watching.
"Where's the damn gate?" he growled, swatting away spectral insects and half-formed memories clawing at his jacket.
Then he stopped.
The fog parted—violently. A great wind howled from the sky above. Thunder cracked, splitting the mist as a voice boomed:
"The soul must return to the body."
The sky collapsed into spiraling shadow. Akuma's body twisted into raw energy, sucked upward like a scream. His eyes widened—
"Oh no—no no no NO—!"
Then: light.
And pain.
Akuma's eyes snapped open as he gasped for air, shooting up from the forest floor.
His limbs were stiff. His skin crawled. Something was wrong.
Then he noticed it.
Standing across from him, smiling with mockery and amusement, was himself.
Or… not quite.
This "Akuma" wore his body like a theater mask. The grin was too wide. The posture too regal. The energy leaking from him—wrong. Ancient. Hungry.
"…You're not me."
The imposter bowed deeply, wings of shadow flaring behind him.
"Finally awake, are we? Took you long enough, roommate."
Akuma's eyes narrowed. "You're the parasite."
The demon chuckled. "Parasite? No, no—host. Or maybe... tenant with boundary issues. Call me—Pazuzu."
Akuma's jaw clenched. "The demon of plagues and winds from Mesopotamian mythology. You're that Pazuzu?"
"Guilty. Well, partially. Names twist over centuries like old scars. But yes—that one."
The demon spread his arms. "I was once a god, then a devil, now a houseguest in your chest. Life's funny, isn't it?"
No more talking.
Akuma charged.
"Breath of the Sun: First Form – Dance!"
His blade flashed like sunrise, a blinding arc that split the clearing—
But Pazuzu dodged it with lazy grace. The wings of shadow wrapped around him, shielding his core. Black tendrils lashed out in response, striking like serpents.
Akuma rolled, flipped, slashed.
Each blow he delivered carved ash through Pazuzu's form, but nothing stuck. Pazuzu was liquid shadow, a memory of a god, a poison with a grin.
"You're not ready to kill me," Pazuzu said calmly, forming a blade of wind and disease in his hand. "But I am—ready to teach."
They clashed.
Sparks. Fire. Wind. Poison. Steel.
Then—an explosion. Both were blown apart, tumbling through trees and stone.
Blood dripped from Akuma's nose. He staggered to his feet. "I'll find a way to rip you out."
"You can't," Pazuzu said, laughing. "We're bound."
A burning sigil lit up around them.
Pazuzu pointed to it with an exaggerated flourish. "Behold: the Circle of the Leashed God. You and I are now soul-bound. I cannot stray more than twenty meters from you."
Akuma's face dropped. "You're kidding."
"Leave me behind? I die. You die? I die. I die? You get... freedom, probably. We're like hell's worst buddy comedy now."
Akuma groaned. "This is worse than acid meditation."
Honoka: The Mask Behind the Flame
Hidden behind a tree, Honoka watched the entire thing.
Pazuzu. That explains the corruption in his soul.
She clenched her jaw, keeping still. Her crimson eyes reflected the shadow-light of the battle. And in her hand—an obsidian blade, etched with the crest of the Lucifer Clan.
"Akuma Beelzebub," she whispered, "you might be entertaining, but if you fall to that demon, I will end you myself."
She stepped back into the shadows, her thoughts churning.
She was not here to find peace. She was not here to forge friendships.
She was here on orders.
The Lucifer Clan, rulers of Hell, had sent her to ensure the Beelzebub heirs remained manageable—or, if necessary, expendable. Her role was observer, but if the parasite took full control, she was cleared to execute.
And yet… she hesitated.
Honoka's fingers brushed her cheek, remembering the parasite's kiss.
"Fool," she muttered. "But charming…"
Then she turned and vanished.
Shinchū
Far beneath the earth, within the sacred insect realm, Shinchū stirred on his throne of bone.
The ancient Divine Insect's form shimmered—no longer a clean insectoid god, but a hulking hybrid of yokai, demonic, and divine form. His chitin now formed the patterns of ancient sutras. His many eyes no longer blank, but reflective, wise, glowing with centuries of old plague wisdom.
He exhaled spores with a sigh.
"The parasite awakens. The child returns. Balance tilts toward collapse… again."
One of his insectoid Yokai disciples crawled to his feet. "Should we act, my lord?"
Shinchū's wings unfurled slowly. "No. The time of guidance has passed. The Tower's shadow rises. The gods will demand their own answer."
The Fallen of the Family – The Judgment
Suddenly, the sky cracked. Light—not sunlight, but hellfire light—poured across the forest.
From above descended a towering figure, draped in ancestral robes and glowing with unholy authority. His skin was pale as stone, his face hidden behind an obsidian mask cracked down the center.
He was The Fallen of the Family—a legendary elder of the Beelzebub clan, believed dead for centuries.
"Enough."
His voice echoed like a final bell.
The parasite froze. Akuma straightened. Honoka emerged from hiding. The children still alive fell to their knees.
"The Ceremony," the Fallen said, "has failed. The rites were interrupted. The contract was sealed prematurely."
He spread his arms.
"Thus, by ancient law, all younglings of Beelzebub blood are to be sent to the Tower of the False God—a place where children from all clans gather for their divine trials."
Gasps. Whispers. Dread.
"You have one month to prepare."
He looked directly at Akuma.
"There… you may choose who you truly are. Demon. Yokai. Parasite. Or something greater."
He vanished, leaving only scorched wind and silence behind.
Akuma stared at the sky, mind numb.
"One month…" he muttered, eyes burning.
Beside him, Pazuzu yawned.
"Better start training, roommate. That tower's not going to climb itself."
Akuma scowled.
"...I swear I'm going to kill you someday."
Pazuzu winked. "Get in line."