Mikaela Hyakuya X Reader: (Book 2) Wings

Ch.3-Inner Demons

Having three grotesque demon-face wall carvings staring at you is almost as worse as having thirty or so weapons pointed at you.

There is only one pedestal in this room.

It's a sword unlike any other.

Holy ducking crap, That sword looks like a demon itself, so you can't even imagine what's inside of it.

Does Guren want me to be possessed that bad? That he'd stick me in a room with a demon that's... Supposed to be..."a gajillion times worse than Asuramaru"?

You had been escorted to the room by Guren himself, Yuu being allowed the only one to tag along.

Mika had been dragged who-knows-where, and the commander or general or whatever his title is plus Yuu were waiting outside the door.

You... Really don't want to touch that thing.

The blade long and jagged, tinted slightly purple, and looked as a stab from it would rip a man in two. The handle was onyx black, curved to fit hands much larger than yours. There was a red tassel tied to the hilt, that made you think of some sort of ancient Chinese blade.

You take a step forward, then another towards the pedestal.

The air seems to grow colder with every step you take.

I'm going to die.

The thought rips into your head and stays there, pushing fear and hesitation into you, and soon you're fighting, trying not to shake.

The air gets colder, and you feel as if you should see your breath fogging the air, but there is nothing.

Oh yeah. I'm technically dead.

You reach out a hand, trying your best to steady it, and touch a finger to the hilt.

It's so cold it burns, but otherwise, nothing happens.

You hesitantly pick up the sword, and wrap your fingers entirely around the hilt. You let go of the blade with your other hand, and it swings to your side, where you hold it, twitching now.

The blackness creeps across your vision.

~~~ (No, no, I won't torture you guys and end it short again XD)

----

Death.

Death is everywhere.

Blood pools in rivers, body parts and torn pieces of men lay scattered across the plains of red. You tremble, looking down at yourself, at your sword, touching your fangs.

Every inch of you is covered in blood.

You try to drop the sword, but it does not fall from your hand, simply stays. You no longer have control of your arm.

A weak, frightened voice calls out behind you.

"(N...Name)-chan?"

It's Mika, shaking and cowering. He's fallen to his knees, legs and torso covered in bleeding wounds. He clutched one hand to his right shoulder, which is bleeding, no, gushing, red.

His eyes are the worst part.

They're wide, filled with fear, filled with disbelief. Filled with hate.