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My voice echoed through the large room as I turned around. My features held no set emotion as my (e/c) eyes gazed out at the demons. Five, to be exact. Three, or which, were easily distinguishable as upper moons one, two, and three, just from looking at the Kanji in their eyes, as well as their overall presence. Meanwhile, a lone demon sat among the four others, its hands holding a biwa, and its lone eye covered by its ebony bangs, that glowed in the light of the fortress. In the middle of them all, stood Muzan. His thin lips held a small smirk, and his crimson eyes bored into my soul, taunting me.
My brows creased and my eye widened, in focus of what these demons could do. Each and every one looked down on me, as if I was just a toy. Nothing more than a bug, meant to die a gruesome and lonely death. Their eyes watched me as if I wasn't good enough, as if I were took weak, in their eyes, and, as though, they wanted my blood to soak the floors of the temple.
Suddenly, one of them spoke up.
The demon took the form of a tall young man with a moderately toned and muscular body, who is of a notably pale complexion and possessed unusually long, pointed nails that appeared to be stained a pale blue. His hair appeared to be silver, and he wore it parted to his left, the shorter parts around his face seeming to flare out to either side around his head, curving backward with one strand left down his face to fall between his eyes, while the longer parts were left to drape centrally down his back in a thinning spiral. His recognizable eyes appeared to be made up of an array of rainbow pastel tones that fade into one another as they circle his irises.
The demon wore a blood-red turtleneck of a design that made it appear that the section between his neck and upper chest is covered by a black substance that looks like it was dripping slightly down his body, this same design repeated at his wrists and down his hands, as well as on the small, circular "bloodstain" he adorned on his head. Below this, he wore a pair of straight, tan-colored hakama pants of a pinstriped design, their cuffs visibly loose, which he secured with a pale green-tinged golden belt, its buckle a bright silver.
The demon grinned, raising a single finger to point at me, his sharp crannies glistening in the dim light. I turned my body, the right side facing towards the demons while my left hand placed itself atop the grip of my katana. "It's you!" The demon exclaimed, seeming, almost, joyful at my presence. "You look just as pretty as the last time I saw you!" My eyes narrowed, and my throat suddenly turned dry.
Without warning, another demon appeared behind the silver-haired creature, and forced his fist to punch it through his head. Blood splurted onto the ground, and I flinched, my thumb lifting the katana out of its sheathe, and holding it in place.
The worst part was, I knew this demon.
It was the one who killed Kyojiro.
The grip on my blade, unconsciously, tightened and my glare became much more apparent. "We didn't bring her here to cover her with compliments." He began, pulling his fist away from the other demon, though, without another word, the other demon's head immediately regenerated, back to the way it was before, as though it wasn't even destroyed just mere moments ago.
