Two months after the first kill...
I have become an artist of deception.
Every morning, I wake with the sun though it burns, though it makes my skin crawl with discomfort, though every instinct screams at me to retreat into darkness. But I endure. Because the perfect son of the Kibutsuji family rises with the dawn, studies diligently, and never, ever raises suspicion.
"Ryōta-kun, your calligraphy has improved so much!" My tutor, an elderly man named Tanaka-sensei, beams at me with pathetic pride. "Your brushstrokes have such confidence now. Such... precision."
Of course they do, you fossil. These hands have torn through human flesh. They've crushed bone. They've painted the night with blood. Compared to that, controlling a brush is child's play. "Thank you, Sensei," I say with humble grace, bowing my head. "I've been practicing every night."
Practicing murder, yes.
The charade continues through breakfast l force down food I don't need, food that tastes like ash compared to the sublime flavor of blood. Mother watches me eat with satisfaction. Father nods approvingly at my reports of academic progress. Little Hanako chatters about her day. Shiro asks me to help him with his reading.
And all the while, I count the hours until darkness falls and I can be myself again.
Five kills now. Five successful hunts over two months. I've been careful selecting targets from outside our district, criminals and vagrants who won't be missed, people whose disappearance will be attributed to bandits or wild animals. Each kill has taught me something new about this body's capabilities.
The flesh manipulation is improving. Last week, I managed to extend tendrils from my fingertipscrude, unstable, but functional. With practice, I'll refine them into proper weapons.
My strength has increased exponentially. I can leap to rooftops now, move with speed that renders me nearly invisible to human eyes.
And the hunger? The hunger has become my compass, pointing me toward the weak, the vulnerable, the prey.
But I'm growing impatient.
I need more than random kills in the night. I need information.
This world has demons—I've confirmed that much through careful eavesdropping and subtle questions. But what kind of demons? How many? What's their relationship with this "Muzan Kibutsuji" whose name I share?
And most important where do I fit in this hierarchy?
Tonight, I'll find out.
And the hunger? The hunger has become my compass, pointing me toward the weak, the vulnerable, the prey.
But I'm growing impatient.
I need more than random kills in the night. I need information.
This world has demons I've confirmed that much through careful eavesdropping and subtle questions. But what kind of demons? How many? What's their relationship with this "Muzan Kibutsuji" whose name I share?
And most importantly where do I fit in this hierarchy?
Tonight, I'll find out.
Night falls. Finally
I slip out of the compound with practiced ease, my dark clothing blending into shadows. But tonight, I'm not hunting in Ōsaka. Tonight, I'm traveling north, toward the mountains where Ryōta's memories whisper of strange disappearances and unexplained deaths.
If demons exist, they'll be there.
The journey takes hours, but I don't tire. This body is magnificent it moves through the forest like wind through leaves, leaping between trees, scaling cliffs that would kill a normal human. The moon hangs fat and full above me, turning the world silver.
I feel alive.
Then I smell it.
Blood. Fresh blood. And something else...
Something that makes my instincts scream in recognition. Another predator. Another creature of the night.
Finally,
I follow the scent to a small village nestled in a valley. Or what used to be a village. Now it's a slaughterhouse. Bodies litter the streets men, women, children, torn apart with savage efficiency. The air reeks of terror and death.
And in the center of this carnage stands a figure.
It looks human at first glance a young man with wild hair and blood-stained clothing. But as I watch from the shadows, I see the truth. His eyes glow with an unnatural light. His fingers end in claws. His mouth is smeared with gore.
A demon. A real, genuine demon of this world.
And he's magnificent.
"I know you're there," the demon calls out suddenly, his voice rough and excited. "I can smell you. You're not human either, are you? Come out, come out! Let me see what you are!"
Interesting. He sensed me despite my stealth. This creature has sharper instincts than the humans I've been killing.
I step out of the shadows, making my movements deliberately casual. "Quite the mess you've made," I observe, gesturing at the carnage. "A bit... indiscriminate, wouldn't you say?"
The demon grins, showing teeth that are all fangs. "What's the point of having power if you can't enjoy it? These humans they're like cattle! Screaming, begging, crying..." He shivers with pleasure. "It's intoxicating!"
Hmm. A mindless beast. How disappointing.
But useful, perhaps.
"Tell me," I say, moving closer with deliberate slowness, "who gave you this power? Who made you what you are?"
The demon's eyes narrow. "You don't know? What kind of demon are you?" He sniffs the air. "You smell... strange. Different. Wrong."
"I'll take that as a compliment."
"Are you one of " He stops abruptly, his face twisting with something like pain. When he continues, his voice is more careful. "Did he send you to test me? To see if I'm worthy?"
Interesting. He can't even speak the name. Or won't.
"Perhaps," I say smoothly, neither confirming nor denying. "Why don't you tell me about your... master? Humor me."
The demon laughs, but there's nervousness beneath it. "Everyone knows about the progenitor! He's the first demon, the one who grants us power and immortality!" His expression becomes almost reverent. "He's been alive for over a thousand years. He's stronger than anyone, smarter than everyone. He's perfect!"
A thousand years? Impressive. But not insurmountable. I've overthrown gods before or close enough.
"And what does this master of yours expect from his... children?" I ask, examining my nails with affected disinterest.
"To grow stronger! To find the blue spider lily! To—" The demon stops suddenly, his face contorting in agony. Blood leaks from his eyes. "No... I can't... I shouldn't have..."
Ah. So there are limits to what he can say. A curse? Biological conditioning?
"Fascinating," I murmur, watching him struggle. "Your master has you quite well-trained, doesn't he?"
The demon's eyes clear, focusing on me with sudden realization. "Wait. You're asking too many questions. You're not one of us, are you? You're something else."
His body tenses, claws extending further. "An enemy. A threat!"
Oh, you have no idea.
"Well," I say with a cold smile, "you're not entirely wrong."
The demon lunges.
He's fast—faster than the humans I've killed. His claws slash through the space where my head was a fraction of a second ago.
But I'm faster.
WRYYYYYY!
The old battle cry tears from my throat as I sidestep his attack and drive my fist into his ribs. The impact sends him flying backward, crashing through the wall of a house.
"Impressive!" I call out, genuinely pleased. "You're certainly more durable than humans! This might actually be entertaining!"
The demon emerges from the rubble, his ribs already healing. "What... what ARE you?!"
"I am Dio!" I declare, spreading my arms wide. "And you, my unfortunate friend, are going to tell me everything you know about this world's demons before I tear you apart!"
He snarls and charges again. This time, multiple attacks a flurry of claw strikes that would shred a normal opponent.
But I am not normal.
I weave through his attacks like water, each movement precise and controlled. Then I catch his wrist mid-strike.
SNAP.
The bone breaks like a twig.
The demon screams, but I'm not done. I pivot, using his momentum against him, and drive my knee into his spine. Another crack.
He collapses, gasping. His body is already trying to regenerate, but I don't give him the chance.
I place my foot on his back, pinning him. "Now then, let's have a proper conversation. Tell me about the demon hierarchy. Tell me about your master's organization. Tell me about the demon slayers I've heard whispers of."
"F-fuck you!" The demon spits blood. "He'll kill you! He'll tear you apart! He'll "
I crushed his spine completely.
"Wrong answer." My voice is pleasant, conversational. "Let me explain something. I've killed gods in my previous life. I've conquered nations. I've stood at the precipice of heaven itself." I lean down, my lips close to his ear. "Your master? He's just the next obstacle to overcome."
The demon's eyes widen in genuine terror now. "Y-you're insane..."
"No. I'm ambitious. There's a difference." I press down harder. "Now, you can either tell me what I want to know, or I can spend the next several hours pulling you apart piece by piece to see how your regeneration works. Your choice."
The demon talks.
And oh, what fascinating things he tells me.
The progenitor is indeed the father of all demons, having existed for over a millennium. He rules through fear and absolute control demons cannot disobey his direct commands, and he can kill any demon he created with a thought by destroying the cells he implanted in them.
Cells. So it's biological control. Interesting.
There's a hierarchy among demons the Twelve Kizuki, his most powerful servants, divided into Upper and Lower Ranks. They're granted more of his blood, more power, in exchange for loyalty and results.
And then there are the demon slayers an organization of humans who hunt demons using special breathing techniques and sun-blessed swords. They've been fighting this war for centuries.
A three-way conflict. Demons, demon slayers, and now... me.
"One more question," I say when the demon finishes. "This blue spider lily the demons are searching for—what is it?"
"I-I don't know exactly," the demon wheezes. "He wants it desperately. Something about conquering the sun... becoming perfect..."
Conquering the sun.
My hand twitches. So the progenitor suffers from the same weakness I do. And he's spent a thousand years searching for a cure.
How... relatable.
"Thank you," I say sincerely. "You've been very helpful."
"W-will you let me go?"
I pause, as if considering it. Then I smile.
"No."
My hand drives through his chest, gripping his heart.
"WRYYYYYY!"
I crush it.
The demon's eyes roll back. His body begins to disintegrate, crumbling to ash the way demons in this world apparently do when killed.
Fascinating. Complete cellular breakdown. Different from my previous life's vampire deaths, but effective.
I watch until there's nothing left but dust on the wind.
Then I turn to survey the destroyed village. Bodies everywhere. Evidence of a demon attack.
And an opportunity.
If I want to understand this world's power structures, I need to see both sides. The demons AND the demon slayers.
What better way than to play the hero?
I move to the center of the village and begin my performance. I tear my clothing strategically. Smear some of the blood on my face and arms. Then I collapse next to one of the bodies and wait.
The demon slayers will come eventually they always do after an attack like this. And when they arrive, they'll find a young boy, traumatized and terrified, the sole survivor of a demon massacre.
The perfect cover to infiltrate their organization.
The perfect way to learn their techniques, their weaknesses, their secrets.
I close my eyes and steady my breathing, preparing my story.
Act terrified. Act traumatized. Act human.
I can do this. I've worn many masks in my long existence. What's one more?
The sun will rise in a few hours. I'll need to be convincing before then—found by villagers from a neighboring settlement, or perhaps by the demon slayers themselves.
Either way, Dio Brando is about to become a victim.
A survivor.
A hero.
The thought makes me want to laugh.
But I suppress it. Heroes are loved. Heroes are trusted. Heroes get access to information and resources that villains never could.
And when I've learned everything I need to know about both sides of this conflict...
When I've grown strong enough to stand against even the demon progenitor himself...
Then I'll tear off the mask and show this world what a true monster looks like.
Footsteps in the distance. Voices calling out, checking for survivors.
Showtime.
I let out a weak, pitiful groan. "H-help... please... the demon... it killed everyone..."
The footsteps quicken.
And Dio Brando's next performance begins.