The air is suffocating.

You stand in the dimly lit throne room of the Infinity Castle, the presence of three of the most powerful demons in existence pressing down on you like an iron weight. The sound of your own breathing is deafening in the eerie silence. The only other sound is the occasional distorted chime of Nakime’s biwa, shifting the endless corridors ever so slightly.

Kokushibo stands tall, his six golden eyes staring through you, unreadable yet piercing. His hand rests idly on the hilt of his sword, his stance rigid. “So, you are his child,” he states, voice deep and hollow, lacking any warmth. “The offspring of the one who rules over us.” He doesn’t blink. “And yet… you are weak.”

Douma’s ever-present grin stretches wider, his hands coming together in an exaggerated show of delight. “Oh my! How fascinating! Our dear Lord Muzan had a child, and he never told us? Tsk, tsk, how cruel.” He tilts his head, amusement glittering behind his rainbow eyes, though something sharper lurks beneath. “I wonder… do you take after Daddy dearest? Or are you something else entirely?”

Akaza, who has been silent up until now, exhales sharply. His fists clench at his sides. “I don’t care whose child you are,” he says, voice edged with irritation. His sharp blue eyes narrow dangerously. “If you’re weak, you’re worthless. Don’t expect any special treatment just because you share his blood.”

The atmosphere is suffocating, the air itself thick with hostility and intrigue. You don’t know whether you are being evaluated or sentenced, whether they see you as an ally or prey.