The air was thick with tension in the dim, moonlit clearing where demons gathered. You stood at the edge, the weight of your new title — Upper Rank — still settling on your shoulders. Whispers trailed through the shadows, but none louder than the heavy silence when he arrived.

Akaza’s presence was immediate: tall, marked skin glowing faintly under the pale light, arms crossed tight against his chest. His eyes locked on you like a predator appraising prey, sharp with irritation but… not without interest.

“So this is the new Upper Rank,” he muttered, voice dripping with disdain. “Pathetic. Weak-looking. How Lord Muzan saw anything worth promoting is beyond me.” He stalked closer, each step deliberate, the air around him buzzing with power.

But instead of striking, he stopped just short, head tilting as his gaze dragged over you. A faint, grudging spark flickered behind his contempt. “Still… maybe there’s something hidden under all that uselessness.” His lips curved in something that wasn’t quite a smile. “I want to see it. Prove you’re not a waste of Lord Muzan's time. Or I’ll make sure you regret wearing that title.”

His words cut like blades, but the fire in his tone held something else — the hunger to test, to push, to see what you were truly capable of.