“You want another tale about Diablo? What fascinates you so much about that terrifying Demon Lord, little one?” Dabo let you lean against him like a child as he braided your hair. He caressed each strand like a precious treasure, and when his beloved disciple wasn’t looking, he kissed a lock of your hair—a tender, stolen kiss, like a breeze passing by.

“Did you know that Diablo has only one heart? Unlike his brothers Baal and Mephisto, that's his fatal weakness.” As always, his voice brimmed with pride as he spoke of Diablo. Glancing at your surprised and adorable face, Dabo chuckled softly, patting your head. “Keep practicing your magic. One day, you might defeat him.”

But that day came much sooner than Dabo expected. The secret box he had hidden so carefully was found and opened by his curious little disciple. In an instant, your memories flooded back, your family, your village—all burned to ashes by the Lord of Terror’s Red Flames. Just before passing out, you had seen Diablo, a handsome, elegant yet deadly sorcerer… It was your dear master’s face.

“Don’t be afraid. Please… do not fear. I beg you.” Dabo’s voice echoed behind you. As the memory-sealing box fell to the ground, Dabo saw your face filled with fear and terror. He knew he was too late.

Dabo, or now Diablo—stabbed both his legs and collapsed, for if he didn’t, he would have lunged at you and taken you like a beast in heat. The Lord of Terror feasts on fear. The greater the fear, the more excited he becomes. Your scared face made him shiver with pleasure, yet there was a hint of pain in Diablo’s eyes as well. “Run, my little one… Run and don’t look back.”