Pearlan's eyes twitched as they caught the grainy sound of a playing record, slowly opening to the pitch-black interior of his Persian Paradise. But as his ears discerned the fiery diss track he'd debuted a few nights ago, the Duke didn't take a second to find his bearings, crashing through the metal sheet that sealed his stall and landing in the street, eager to know how the public had received it. What the people outside broke into was a sprint, instantly crowding him and celebrating a roast more delicious than his kebabs.
"Yooo, that song was LIT!"
"You really clapped back at MC Granny!"
"You had me worried for a second there, but I knew you'd recover!"
"I never doubted you once!"
"Totally ended her career!"
"Straight up ruined a 79-year-old woman's life!"
"Trippie Purple and Arashi 6ix9ine forever!"
Having faded into obscurity for a week, the demon stood there a while and soaked up the praise, the townsfolk stroking an ego that had returned like a stray feline. He'd checked the hag who disrespected his name, put those who mimicked his schemes in their place, polluted the airwaves with profanities, and asserted himself as the evilest, most foul-mouthed spitter. With a temporary problem out of the way, however, the triumphant feeling didn't last and left him to face a more persistent one.
"We love you, Pearlan!" the civilians cheered.
Right then, the Duke realized that all this time he'd spent saving his pride, he'd been blind to his ultimate plan's failure. Here the humans were, their smiles still pure and their minds uncorrupted, not clawing at their faces as their brains rotted from the inside but practically clawing at his like rabid fans. After everything he'd done, they hadn't gotten his diabolical genius through their thick skulls, and the love with which they showered him splashed against his seething jaw like fuel to a fire.
"GAAAAH! ENOUGH ALREADY! WHAT CAN I DO TO MAKE YOU FEAR ME?!" he exploded. However heated the royal was, a quiet resolution burned in the back of his head. That was it. No more elaborate plots. After at least a month of night labor that yielded nothing, Pearlan lost his patience, ripping into the throng of innocents with a splash of blood and devouring everyone in sight. Their eyes almost sprang from the prisons of their sockets as the demon's fangs connected with their throats, while severed digits flew freely through the air. Terrified screams drowned out the rhymes he'd dropped, the Duke sparing no one as he advanced through the gore and dropped bodies instead. The sophisticated demon became the unsightly beast he shunned, streaks of blood whipping from the powerful bites he took and cracks of bone sounding from the flimsy necks he snapped. "THAT'S WHAT YOU GET FOR TREATING THE GREAT PEARLAN EVELDAUER LIKE A JOKE!"
In the end, he'd only consumed a fraction of the human swarm. But his face lit up when the survivors eyed him with disdain, thinking he'd done enough to prove his point.
"We were worried for a second..." a man spoke up, the blood of a dismembered corpse dripping suspensefully into a pool before him. "We were afraid that Pearlan had gone on a killing spree when we knew he was too kind to do such a thing. But we're relieved to find out that you're an imposter..."
"Yeah!" a woman agreed. "I clearly heard you say 'Pear-LAHN!' Not Pearlan! You're a fake!"
"How dare you impersonate our hero!"
"FAKE! FAKE! FAKE! FAKE!"
"Let's beat him up!"
The royal's heart sank deep in his chest and pulled his gaping mouth down with it. He suddenly felt himself losing braincells in the company of idiots, just another clown in a circus with blood smeared around his lips like face paint. No matter what he did—addicting them to unhealthy food, boiling them alive, triggering their allergies, dirtying their children's minds, and straight up murdering them—the people still loved him. He couldn't believe it. Wasn't there a single person in town who saw him for the villain he was?
"So you finally show your true colors..."
Immediately after he'd asked himself that question, the crowd cleared and revealed a muttering old woman, the very one who'd reprimanded Pearlan on the night of his arrival. The petite lady walked across the red puddles, brandished her frying pan, and leveled it at the Duke. Her appearance was a bit of comedic relief that pulled him out of his crisis and allowed him to laugh it off.
"HAHAHA! Are you MC Granny? I destroyed you, so get lost!" the overconfident demon spat. "What kind of grown adult goes around calling themselves silly nicknames, anyway? You're a cornball, LOL!"
"Is that so? Don't you know who I was in my youth?" the elder replied ominously. "You see, I knew you were evil the moment you showed your face here, but I decided not to end you then since you amputated my husband's diseased leg. The competition from your meat stand was a nuisance, but that's not the real reason I hate you."
"End me? You're just a puny, pruny human, while I'm one of the strongest demons in existence! The G.O.A.T!"
"I'm aware..." the unimpressed hag responded, then uttered a phrase that melted the smirk from the chameleon's face and quieted their surroundings to a silence in which one could hear a pin drop. "I'm a retired demon slayer... a former Pillar, actually. I was known for my unconventional methods and was often tasked with eliminating oddball fiends like you. I followed your schemes closely and played your game, assuming the identity of MC Granny and devising a perfect counter. I wasn't fooled like everyone else."
"My ass!" the royal sharply dismissed. "The only pillar you've got is a walking cane, and you look like you can hardly breathe!"
"I'll have you know I practiced the strongest Breath Style..." the aged bat cautioned, tucking her massive saucer by her waist as if she was preparing to strike.
"Oh shit, Breath of the Sun? Kunie, I think we're fucked," the Duke joked to Arashi, not buying her story.
"No, you fool!" she rejoined, blitzing forward and punishing the royals with a blow that swept the street, erupting a broad plume of wind and dirt that extended the path of her weapon and lingered in the road long after she'd sent them flying. "I practice the Breath of the Fire-Grilled Shrimp!"
Pearlan, who hadn't seen this coming, placed a finger on his chin in contemplation as he sailed into the sky, resigning himself to the fact that he couldn't reverse his course and reacting more calmly than he should've.
"Hmm... can you make a Breath Style out of anything? My kebabs taste way better than her shrimp, so would a Kebab Breath Style be even stronger? I'd probably be the greatest demon slayer of all time if I weren't a demon myself..." he mused, his gaze drifting to the clouds above him. "Oh hey, I think I see the fourth wall from up here! Yo Mango, this is for saying I'm not funny!"
He cupped his hands and shouted, flipping his middle fingers as he whizzed by.
"Not that I'm supposed to be," the chameleon clarified. "Anyway, getting blown away makes me look uncool, so I'll redeem myself with a clever ending line. How about... WE'RE BLASTING OFF AGAIN?!"
He'd restored his image in his mind, but in the eyes of grounded observers, he was an insignificant twinkle in the air from which they quickly moved on. A fat sheriff had plodded over, catching his breath and badgering them for information.
"Everyone, there's danger! A group of violent criminals has escaped from prison and is masquerading as members of this community!" cried the panting officer, hunched over with his hands on his knees. When his eyes settled on the mutilated bodies at his feet and recognized their faces, however, his mouth hung open in what was both a gasp and a sigh of relief. "Oh... it seems someone's taken care of them already! Whoever killed these people is a real hero!"
