"Hello there… we finally meet, Master."
The voice was unsettlingly normal—almost casual—yet it came from a purple figure whose entire form looked as if someone had tried sculpting a human out of melted wax and purple crayons. Limbs bent at angles they shouldn't, edges blurred, parts of his shape flickering like a bad drawing being redrawn over and over.
Seth took a stumbling step back.
A moment ago he had been writhing in agony, feeling his body tear itself apart from the inside. Now, suddenly, there was only blackness, endless and void-like, and this… thing.
"W–Who are you?" Seth forced out, his voice trembling. His breathing was still ragged, chest rising and falling as if the pain might return at any second. His eyes darted around the empty space, looking for anything familiar, anything safe—but there was nothing. Just darkness… and the figure.
The purple being leaned forward—or at least, its upper half twisted slightly in a direction that resembled leaning.
"Names are such small things," it said, tone friendly in a way that made Seth's skin crawl. "But you may call me whatever helps your mind not fall apart."
Its body rippled, the purple wax-like texture shifting and smoothing for a moment before distorting again.
"You were screaming so wonderfully just now," it added with an odd hint of admiration. "But don't worry. That phase is over. Now we can finally talk."
Seth swallowed hard, his heart beating against his ribs. He didn't know whether to run, scream, or simply collapse.
"Talk… about what?" he asked.
The figure's smile broadened—or rather, the purple lines forming the idea of a mouth stretched wider.
"About you, of course," it replied. "And about why you were brought here."
"Then… sir," Seth began, swallowing as he tried to steady his voice. "You could at least start by telling me your name. I can't just… give you one. Not when you look like—"
He hesitated, eyeing the warped purple figure carefully. "—that."
"And why am I here? Or… was I here?" he added, still visibly trembling.
The figure tilted its head—or twisted it, rather—in a way no neck should ever move. Purple wax cracked slightly along its jawline before reforming.
"Well, if you insist," the entity said with exaggerated politeness. "My name is Beelzebub, the Demonic Sin of Gluttony."
The name thudded through the black space like a drum. Seth flinched.
Beelzebub chuckled, a sound like someone chewing glass.
"And I happen to be a part of your talent, young Seth."
Seth blinked. "A… part of my talent?"
"I wish I could explain your talent fully—truly, I do," the demon replied, spreading its crooked arms. "But even from the word Gluttony, one can make a fairly simple deduction, no?"
Its grin stretched wider, splitting the purple face into jagged seams before smoothing out again.
"Even a sixteen-year-old like you could figure it out."
Seth's eye twitched. "I'm six."
"Hmm? Age, height, emotional maturity—what's the difference?" Beelzebub waved dismissively. "The point is: you were chosen because your soul can hold me. Because you have the potential to devour."
Seth stepped back instinctively.
"D-Devour what?"
"Oh, we'll get to that," Beelzebub said with a playful hum. "Don't rush the menu, Master."
"Ohhh. And there are people out there like you that harbour the other Demonic Sins within them," the demon continued, its voice almost too calm for a creature made of twisting purple wax.
"So please be careful," it added. "And the reason you're here was because you were about to die from an outside force. I saved you by bringing your consciousness here."
Beelzebub's form pulsed, parts of him melting and reshaping like half-finished crayon drawings.
"The outside forces," he finished, "also include the other Demonic Sins."
"So… be careful, young one," the demon warned. "For it will be a terrible road up ahead."
Right after those words, the void around them cracked like glass, thin lines splitting through the darkness. Blinding white light pierced through the cracks, swallowing everything—including Beelzebub's twisted purple form.
Seth squeezed his eyes shut—
—and when he opened them again, he was lying on a bed.
His body felt heavy, sore, and strangely cold. The room around him smelled faintly of medicine and old wood. It took a moment for his vision to adjust, but when it did, he turned his head to the right…
And there stood Leo.
Leo's face was dark, emotionless and unreadable—so different from his usual calm but gentle look. His arms were crossed, his jaw was tight, and his eyes weren't even focused on Seth; they were staring at the floor, lost in heavy thoughts.
He hadn't expected Seth to wake up at all.
Leo had been dealing with everything outside—threats, chaos, the aftermath of whatever attacked—and at the same time hearing about Seth's condition collapsing. He was prepared for the worst.
So when Seth finally moved, Leo flinched slightly—not out of fear, but out of shock.
Seth croaked, "Leo…?"
Leo didn't answer at first. He just slowly lifted his eyes, and the moment he saw Seth awake, the emptiness in his expression cracked a little.
"You're finally up," he said quietly, voice low but shaking just a bit.
He then put on his usual grin, the one that always made Seth feel a bit safer no matter what was happening.
"Welcome back, kid," Leo said softly.
He stepped closer and gently patted Seth's forehead, his hand warm and steady.
"Welcome home."
For a moment, the room felt calmer. The fear, the pain, the void—it all faded just a little under Leo's familiar touch. Seth's chest loosened, and he let out a shaky breath he didn't realize he was holding.
But right now, Leo was smiling for him.
And Seth couldn't help but smile back, even if only a little.
***
The moment before Seth's disaster.
Leo and Damian were standing outside the house, talking quietly. The late afternoon air was calm, the sky dimming into evening, but their expressions were serious.
They were talking about Seth—about his future, about how to help him live forward after adoption.
"What do you think we should do after this?" Leo asked, arms crossed, eyes narrowed in thought. "Physical training? At least until he enters the Academy."
"I agree," Damian said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "But… it would be better to let him bond with his new family first. He needs that more than anything."
Leo nodded slowly.
And then—
WHOOSH!!
A figure flew past both of them at such an unbelievable speed that the air behind it erupted into a violent gust, blowing dust and leaves in every direction. Both men staggered back a step as the shockwave hit.
Their eyes widened at the same time.
Damian's voice tightened.
"Did you see—?"
Leo didn't answer. He was already turning toward the house, instincts screaming.
Whatever that blur was…
it was headed straight for Seth who was going to his room with Walter.
As Damian dashed toward the blur, ready to intercept it, a figure suddenly landed in front of him, blocking his path.
Damian skidded to a stop, eyes widening.
The man wore a hooded cloak, the fabric dark and heavy, but what stood out wasn't the cloak—it was the blue glow radiating from underneath it. His face was hidden in shadow, swallowed by the hood, but his eyes shone through the darkness like two deep, piercing sapphires.
CRACK—CRACKLE—!!
Blue lightning surged across the man's arms and legs, wrapping around his limbs like living chains. The air around him vibrated with electricity, humming with power so dense it felt like the entire ground trembled beneath their feet.
Damian's voice lowered.
"Who… are you?"
The hooded man didn't answer.
He simply raised his hand toward Damian, lightning gathering at his fingertips like a warning.
Behind him, the blur continued straight toward the house.
Straight toward Seth.