outofrealms

[outofrealms]

Isekai’d as the Demon King’s Therapist

Synopsis: I accidentally became the Demon King’s therapist, and now I’m stuck in his castle, coaching a fire-breathing tyrant on emotional regulation. His go-to coping method is vaporizing things, but I’m trying to sell him on deep breathing instead.

Chapter 2: “Explain This… Therapy of Yours Before I Smite You.”

Sitting across from the Demon King on his ridiculously large obsidian couch which was about as comfortable as sitting on a slab of polished rock. I plastered on my best smile. Not a genuine one. More like the “please-don’t-kill-me-I’m-just-trying-my-best” kind of smile.

Zarvath leaned forward, his fiery crown flickering ominously, eyes glowing with mild suspicion. “Before we begin, mortal… I must know. What exactly is this… therapy?”

He said the word “therapy” like it was something foul he’d found floating in his soup.

“Oh! Therapy is simple!” I said with a little too much forced enthusiasm. “It’s a conversation where you talk about your feelings, and I help you manage stress and improve your well-being!”

He stared at me like I’d just suggested we dance naked under a blood moon.

“Feelings,” he repeated, his voice flat.

“Yes! Feelings. Emotions. You know… happiness, sadness, anger—”

“Anger I understand,” he interrupted, waving his hand dismissively. “But happiness and sadness are for the weak.”

Oh boy. This was going to be harder than I thought. “Well, emotions aren’t exactly about weakness or strength. They’re just part of being… alive?” I offered weakly.

Zarvath raised an eyebrow. “Why would a king such as I waste time discussing trivialities like ‘feelings’?”

I took a deep breath, trying to channel every ounce of patience I had left. If I messed this up, I’d probably end up as a tiny pile of ashes on this very couch. “Because when you bottled up emotions like anger, it can lead to impulsive decisions you might regret later. Like, say… burning down a village just because someone insulted your crown.”

His eyes narrowed. “It was a very serious insult. He called my crown ‘gaudy.’”

I had to bite my tongue to stop myself from laughing. “Okay, sure, but wouldn’t it be better to calmly address the situation instead of… levelling an entire town?”

“Calmly?” Zarvath repeated, as if the word was a personal offense. He made air quotes with his claws, which was way more unsettling than it had any right to be. “You expect me to ‘calmly’ deal with such disrespect? What nonsense is this?”

I swallowed hard. Stay cool, stay cool. “Not nonsense! Emotional regulation is a real thing. It helps prevent those, uh… heat-of-the-moment choices.”

“Heat-of-the-moment?” His lips curled into a dangerous smile. “A fitting phrase, given the context.”

Okay, bad word choice. Moving on. “Right! What I mean is, imagine how powerful you’d be if you mastered your emotions. Nobody could manipulate or control you because you’d always be one step ahead.”

For a moment, Zarvath paused. His eyes gleamed with sudden interest. “So, you’re saying this… therapy… could make me even more powerful?”

I nodded quickly. “Exactly! Therapy is like… strength training for your mind. Emotional weightlifting.”

He tapped his chin thoughtfully, his claws glinting in the dim light. “Hmm. Strength training for the mind. Fascinating.”

Then he pointed at me, his claw uncomfortably close to my face. “Continue. But be warned if this turns out to be a trick, I shall feed you to the lava serpents.”

“Got it,” I said, giving him a thumbs-up while trying not to visibly sweat. “Let’s start with something simple. How has your week been? Any recent… stressors?”

Zarvath leaned back, his massive shoulders tensing slightly. “Yesterday, my court sorcerer accidentally summoned a flaming chicken demon. It set fire to my drapes and screamed insults at me in Infernal for six hours.”

I blinked. “… Right. That sounds… challenging.” I made a note in the notebook I’d conjured out of pure panic. “And how did you respond?”

“I vaporized it,” Zarvath said, looking very pleased with himself.

I froze for a second. “Okaaaay. Um, next time, maybe we can explore a… less destructive solution?”

His eyes glowed brighter. “Less destructive? You would have me negotiate with a flaming chicken?”

“Not exactly,” I said, holding up my hands. “More like… deep breathing exercises to manage your frustration. Then you can decide the best way to handle it without instantly vaporizing things.”

“Deep… breathing?” Zarvath repeated suspiciously.

I nodded. “It’s a technique to calm your mind. Watch: inhale for four counts… hold… and exhale for four counts. Like this!” I demonstrated, breathing deeply.

Zarvath watched, unimpressed at first. Then, very reluctantly, he took a breath. The room instantly smelled like brimstone and burning wood.

He exhaled slowly. “Hmm. That wasn’t… terrible.”

I grinned. “See? Do that next time you’re about to vaporize something, and you’ll make more rational decisions.”

He nodded, clearly deep in thought. “Very well. But if deep breathing fails me, I shall return to vaporizing.”

“Deal,” I said, wiping my forehead. “Baby steps.”

As the session wrapped up, Zarvath leaned back on his throne, looking surprisingly relaxed. He still radiated doom and destruction, but it felt more like calm menace instead of raging inferno.

“You have given me much to consider,” Zarvath mused. “I feel… slightly less inclined to vaporize my enemies. Slightly.”

“That’s progress!” I said, forcing a smile. “Same time next week?”

I was halfway to the door, ready to bolt for my safety, when Zarvath raised a clawed hand. “Wait.”

I froze. “… Yes?”

His eyes narrowed. “I’ve decided you shall remain here. Permanently.”

“… Permanently?”

“Yes. You are now my official Mind Healer. You will reside within my castle and ensure that I do not succumb to reckless rage. If you succeed, you will be treated as a guest. Fail, and… well, let’s just say the lava serpents haven’t had a decent meal in weeks.”

I swallowed hard. “Ah. Good to know. Love a job with clear expectations.”

The demons escorted me to my “room” after my session with Zarvath. I use the term room loosely because it looked more like a medieval dungeon redesigned by someone who listened to too much death metal. The walls were made of black stone, the bed was an ominous slab that could double as a sacrificial altar, and the only source of light came from a chandelier made of… bones. Actual bones.

“Enjoy your stay!” the demon guard said with a toothy grin before slamming the door shut behind me.

I stood there for a solid minute, staring at my new accommodations, my brain short-circuiting like a Wi-Fi router trying to reconnect. Then, it hit me all at once:

I AM A HUMAN. IN A DEMON REALM.

How am I supposed to survive here?! What do demons even eat? What if they eat me?! How do I pay for stuff? Do they have a demon Venmo? I’m just a therapist, not Frodo Baggins—no one trained me for this!

I started pacing. “Okay, think. You’re resourceful. You’ve binged three apocalypse survival shows. You’ve talked at least four people out of having public breakdowns at Trader Joe’s. You can do this.”

Then I noticed the giant spider on the ceiling, watching me like it was considering charging rent. I sprinted to the farthest corner of the room, hyperventilating.

“This is fine. Everything’s fine,” I whispered, trying to convince myself. But my brain was having none of it. Instead, it spiralled into worst-case scenarios:

I starve because there’s no DoorDash in the underworld.

I accidentally offend the Demon King and get sacrificed.

I survive but end up in some demonic multi-level marketing scheme.

Finally, I remembered something important: I have a degree in psychology. If I could help a client work through their fear of pigeons, I could talk myself through this. I dropped onto the suspiciously hard bed-slab and started using every coping mechanism I could think of.

Step One: Grounding Technique.

“Five things I can see,” I muttered, scanning the room. “Bones, skulls, creepy spider, weird glowing rune… and oh my god, is that a cursed doll?! Okay. Let’s skip that one.”

Step Two: Breathing Exercises.

“Inhale for four… hold for four… exhale for four,” I whispered, trying to ignore the fact that the glowing rune seemed to pulse in time with my breath. Is it breathing with me?! Weird but comforting.

Step Three: Positive Self-Talk.

“You’ve got this. You are smart, capable, and only slightly emotionally unstable. Demons respect confidence. Fake it till you make it.”

A knock on the door made me jump. A small, scaly demon poked his head in. “Your dinner, human,” he said, sliding a tray toward me. It contained a bowl of something that looked suspiciously like purple mashed potatoes and a side of… glowing green mystery meat.

“Thanks!” I said, my voice cracking slightly. After he left, I stared at the food. “Okay, new goal: survive, find coffee, and absolutely do not die.”

I took a deep breath and picked up a fork.

“This is fine,” I said again. “Totally fine.”

And for the first time all day, I almost believed it.

[outofrealms]

Okay the Demon King’s therapist fic is funny af, I don’t know how you came up with that idea but I love it!!

HAHAHA I read isekai stories a lot so I wanna try one too. The idea was random cause I'm looking for something to read and then it's develop there. But I'm glad you enjoy it ^^

[outofrealms]

Isekai’d as the Demon King’s Therapist

Synopsis: One minute, I’m fighting a vending machine for coffee. The next, I’m the therapist for Zarvath, the Demon King who’s one bad day away from obliterating the realm. His mental health’s a mess, and I’ve got nothing but my psych degree and questionable life choices to fix it. No pressure, right?

Chapter 1: I Was Just Getting Coffee, and Now I’m a Therapist for a Demon King?!

It all started with a vending machine.

Not some magical, glowing vending machine that dispensed ancient relics or cursed snacks. Nope. This was the regular, broken vending machine in the breakroom at work, the one that seemed to have a personal vendetta against me.

I just wanted a cup of coffee. One measly coffee to help me survive another session with a client who swore Mercury in retrograde was the reason her life was falling apart. I was dangerously low on caffeine, and without it, I was one minor inconvenience away from shouting at inanimate objects like she did.

But the vending machine had other plans.

It ate my dollar. Then, just for fun, it ate my life.

I gave it a light smack. Nothing violent. I’m not a monster. Just a small “I’m watching you” kind of tap.

That’s when the vending machine decided to electrocute me.

There was a bright flash of light, a weird sound like a thousand cats sneezing at once, and then….nothing.

When I opened my eyes, I was in a throne room.

I lay flat on a cold, black floor, staring up at a ceiling covered in glowing runes and what I really, really hoped were fake skulls. Around me were creatures straight out of a heavy metal album cover, demons with horns, glowing eyes, and questionable fashion choices.

In front of me sat a seven-foot-tall demon with glowing red eyes and a crown made of actual fire. He was lounging on a massive black throne, sipping something from a skull-shaped goblet like this was just another Tuesday.

He raised an eyebrow. “You’re the one?”

The one what?!

I sat up slowly, still trying to process the fact that I was very much not in my office anymore. My first thought? Hallucination. Second thought? Maybe I’m dead, and this is some weird afterlife punishment for all the times I lied about liking kale.

“Answer me, mortal!” the demon barked. “Are you the legendary mind healer we summoned?”

Legendary mind healer? Was he talking about a therapist? Did I just get isekai’d to be a demon king’s therapist?!

“Uh… yeah. Sure. That’s me,” I said, adopting the time-honored strategy of when in doubt, agree.

The demon who I later learned was Zarvath, the Demon King of Darkness leaned forward, his eyes glowing brighter. “Excellent. My armies may be unstoppable, but my mental health is… fragile.”

Oh. My. God.

One of the demons, a nervous little imp cleared his throat. “Lord Zarvath, we were supposed to summon the most powerful mind healer in all the realms. Are you sure we got the right one?”

Zarvath frowned. “Do you doubt my summoning rituals?”

The imp shook his head so fast I thought it might fly off. “N-no, of course not! But… they don’t look very powerful.”

Rude. I may not look like much, but I’ve survived family holiday dinners, passive-aggressive coworker emails, and clients who believe crystals can cure broken bones. I’m tougher than I look.

“I may not have magic,” I said, crossing my arms, “but I’ve got a master’s degree in psychology and plenty of experience dealing with difficult people. You want therapy? I’m your person.”

Zarvath tilted his head. “Master’s degree? In… psychology?”

“Yeah. It’s a degree that qualifies me to help people process their emotions, manage stress, and develop healthier coping mechanisms.”

Zarvath narrowed his eyes. “So… it’s a form of magic?”

“Not exactly. It’s more like… mental training. But instead of using spells, I help you talk through your feelings and reframe your negative thoughts.”

Zarvath crossed his arms. “Sounds like sorcery to me.”

The imp leaned closer to Zarvath, whispering loudly enough for me to hear, “Master, perhaps it’s some kind of mind enchantment?”

“It’s not enchantment! It’s cognitive behavioral therapy!” I said. “There’s science behind it!”

Zarvath nodded slowly, stroking his chin. “Hmph. Whatever it is, if it can stop me from obliterating the next hero I meet just because they irritate me, I’m willing to try.”

He leaned back on his throne, considering me carefully. “Very well. Prove your worth.”

And that’s how I found myself sitting on a demon-sized couch, preparing to give my first therapy session to the Demon King of Darkness.

I wasn’t sure how I got here, or how I was supposed to survive in this world… but one thing was clear: this Demon King needed serious help. And if I played my cards right, I might just live long enough to give it to him.

[outofrealms]

Masterlist

If you ever see these stories posted on another platform or account other than @/04xixo (Wattpad), that means they’ve been stolen or reposted without permission. Please report it immediately.

Thank you so much for your support! It really means a lot.

Feel free to request any <3

The "Priest"

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 |

Isekai’d as the Demon King’s Therapist

Introduction Chapter 1: I Was Just Getting Coffee, and Now I’m a Therapist for a Demon King?!

Chapter 2: “Explain This… Therapy of Yours Before I Smite You.”

[outofrealms]

Isekai’d as the Demon King’s Therapist

Synopsis: Y/N is summoned to a fantasy world… not as a hero, but as the Demon King’s personal therapist. Turns out, the Demon King has major burnout and trust issues from all the hero invasions.

Introduction

A lavish, dark throne room that looks like it belongs in an edgy heavy metal music video. Black marble everywhere, skull chandeliers, fire pits lining the walls. The Demon King Zarvath sits on a massive obsidian throne, looking bored and annoyed.

Y/N (calmly): “So… you’re feeling burned out?”

Demon King Zarvath (raises an eyebrow): “Obviously. Do you know how exhausting it is to manage an entire army, conquer kingdoms, and keep up with centuries of family expectations?”

Y/N casually pulls out a clipboard.

Y/N: “Right. Classic work-life imbalance. Let’s start by identifying your stress triggers. What is the most frustrating part of your job?”

Zarvath (leans forward, eyes glowing red): “Heroes.”

His voice echoes menacingly, shaking the room.

Zarvath: “Every week, some idiot with a sword barge in, shouting about destiny and justice. Do you know how many times I’ve been stabbed in the chest this month? Four. FOUR TIMES.”

Y/N: (nods sympathetically): “Sounds rough. Have you ever considered setting boundaries?”

Zarvath: “Boundaries?”

Y/N: “Yeah, like… telling the heroes they need to schedule appointments. Maybe setting up a sign at the castle gate: ‘No walk-ins after 5 PM.’”

Zarvath strokes his chin, intrigued.

Zarvath: “Huh. That’s… not a terrible idea.”

He snaps his fingers, summoning an imp.

Zarvath: “Implement this. Make the sign ominous but professional.”

Y/N: “Good start! Now, let’s talk about self-care. What do you do to unwind?”

Zarvath: “Unwind?”

He looks confused, as if the word is foreign to him.

Y/N: “Yeah, hobbies. Interests. Anything that makes you happy.”

Zarvath: “I… crush rebellions?”

Y/N: “Mm, okay. Let’s find something a bit less… violent. Have you ever tried painting?”

Zarvath (suspicious): “Painting?”

Y/N: “Yeah. It’s surprisingly therapeutic. Plus, you can paint your enemies being defeated. Very cathartic.”

Zarvath: “...Interesting.”

He leans back on his throne, imagining it.

Zarvath: “Fine. I will paint. But if this doesn’t reduce my stress levels, I’ll burn your village to the ground.”

Y/N (unfazed): “Deal. Let’s meet again in a week to check on your progress. Try journaling, too.”

The imp returns with a fresh scroll.

Imp: “Master, the ominous-but-professional sign is ready.”

Zarvath: “Good. What does it say?”

Imp (reading): “‘BY APPOINTMENT ONLY. HEROES WHO IGNORE THIS WILL BE SMITED WITH EXTREME PREJUDICE.’”

Y/N: “Perfect. You’re already setting healthier boundaries.”

[outofrealms]

The "Priest" part II

part I

As I submerged myself into the dark, cold water of the lake, a wave of panic surged through me. The air was thick in my lungs as I realized I had to hold my breath while traveling through this portal. I could feel the pressure of the water surrounding me, pressing against my chest like a vice. My heart pounded in my ears, and the only thing I could do was keep moving forward, hoping there was air on the other side.

The sensation was terrifying. My body screamed for air, but just when I thought I couldn’t take it any longer, the world shifted, and I felt my feet touch solid ground. Gasping, I stumbled forward and fell to my knees, coughing up the remnants of water that clung to my throat. My vision was hazy, but I could make out a small lake in front of me, much smaller and calmer than the one I had just left. A boat bobbed gently on its surface, barely making a sound.

Beyond the lake, a narrow trail stretched out, leading into a forested area. The Priest had given me no instructions, no explanation for why I was here, so I followed the path, hoping it would eventually lead me to some answers.

As I walked, the air felt heavy with the unknown. The trail wound through thick trees, and after what felt like an hour of walking, I spotted a building in the distance. From where I stood, it looked like an old, run-down structure. The walls were crumbling, the windows were shattered, and an eerie stillness hung over it. It reminded me of an abandoned school, the kind you see in horror stories.

I stood at the main entrance, staring at the building, torn between the temptation to go in and the instinct to stay away. Before I could make a decision, a voice called out behind me.

"Teacher Li, is that you?"

I turned to see an elderly woman standing a few yards away, squinting at me through the dim light. Her face was wrinkled with age, but her eyes were sharp and full of recognition.

She smiled warmly. "Ah, it’s just you, Teacher Li. What are you doing here at this hour? Did you forget something at school? and why are you drenched from head to toe?"

My mind reeled. Teacher Li? Was she talking to me? I wasn’t a teacher. I didn’t know anyone here, let alone this woman. I opened my mouth to ask her what she meant, but before I could speak, I glanced back at the building. My breath caught in my throat.

The decrepit, crumbling structure had transformed. Where there had been broken windows and rotting walls, there was now a pristine, well-maintained school building. The paint was fresh, the lights were on, and the entire place looked… normal. Almost inviting. I blinked, trying to reconcile what I had just seen, but the old woman’s voice broke my trance.

"Don’t stay out too long," she said, laughing. "You’ll catch a cold in this weather! Come, let’s get you home. I heard your house is quite far from the school."

Still dazed, I nodded, not sure what else to do. None of this was making sense. Ever since I had met the Priest, things had only gotten weirder, and I wasn’t sure what was real anymore. Was this part of the mission? Was this all some twisted game?

As we began walking, the old woman continued chatting as if everything were perfectly normal. "You really should think about getting a bicycle, Teacher Li. Imagine walking all the way home at this late hour. By the time you get there, it’ll be well past dark!"

I forced a laugh. "I think I’ll manage for now. But thank you, Granny."

She smiled, her laugh infectious. Despite the strangeness of everything around me, her presence was oddly comforting. As we walked, she filled me in on the details of my supposed life here. Apparently, I was a substitute teacher at the school—the only school in this small, isolated village. The teacher I was substituting for had been in an accident and was currently in the hospital, leaving me to fill in until they recovered.

So the Priest wasn’t lying, I thought. His mission really was as simple as reading a book or organizing things. I was… a teacher. A normal job. It felt so mundane compared to the ominous presence of the Priest and the demon-like aura surrounding him. But still, there was something off about all of this. I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was playing a role in someone else’s story, a story I had no control over.

By the time we reached what was supposedly my home, the sky had darkened completely. The house was a modest one, tucked away in a quiet corner of the village. The Granny waved goodbye as she headed toward her own home, leaving me standing in front of the door.

I hesitated. Was this really where I was supposed to be? I didn’t know anything about this place, about these people, and yet… I felt an odd pull to go inside. Maybe it was the fear of defying the Priest, or maybe it was the sheer exhaustion from the day, but I turned the handle and stepped inside.

The house was small but cozy, filled with the smell of old books and faint traces of incense. It felt lived in, like a place I should know but didn’t. I wandered through the rooms, still trying to make sense of everything.

The house was quiet as I wandered through it, trying to ground myself in this unfamiliar world. Despite everything, the place felt oddly comforting, like it had been made just for me. The downstairs area was simple—there was a small kitchen tucked into the corner, and a modest living room with a single worn sofa. A set of wooden stairs led up to the bedroom, where the bed was neatly made, the kind of precision I knew didn’t come from me. I had to remind myself that this wasn’t really my house, but for now, it was home. As a starter, I need to take a shower.

As I stepped into the bedroom, I noticed a book sitting on a small table near the bed. It looked old but well-kept, the leather cover slightly worn from use. Curious, I picked it up and opened it. To my surprise, it wasn’t just any book—it was a guide. A guide for my mission, for the village, and for the strange role I was now playing. Flipping through the pages, I found information about the school, the other villagers, even tips on how to "blend in." It was eerie how detailed it was, like someone had anticipated every question I might have and left this for me to find.

The more I read, the more I felt my eyelids grow heavy. The words on the pages blurred together, and before I knew it, sleep overtook me.

I woke with a start, my heart racing. There was a sound, something quiet but unmistakable. A creak in the floorboards. My head still foggy from sleep, I sat up and scanned the room, my senses on high alert. That’s when I heard the voice.

"Did you read the book?"

I gasped, spinning around to see a man standing in the shadows of the room, his figure barely visible in the dim light. His voice was cold, demanding, yet calm.

"Did you?" he asked again, his tone sharper this time.

I glanced down at the book still in my hands, the one I’d been reading before I drifted off. "Umm… this one? Yeah, I did." My voice was shaky, unsure.

The man stepped closer, his presence unsettling, like he didn’t quite belong in the room, or anywhere, for that matter. He looked around the house with casual disinterest, as if this were a routine visit for him.

"Who are you?" I asked, trying to sound braver than I felt.

"I’m the messenger of the Priest," he replied, his voice cool and indifferent. "I’m here to make sure every subject is doing their work properly."

Subject? The word hit me like a punch to the gut. "Subject?" I repeated, my confusion clear. "I don’t remember signing up for any of this."

He sighed as if he’d heard this a thousand times before. "You will get through this. All of them say the same things. They don’t remember this, they don’t remember that." He waved a hand dismissively as if my protests were insignificant.

He stepped closer, leaning in, his voice dropping to a whisper. "But be grateful. You made it this far. The Priest is the only one who is lenient to his subjects. Others…" His voice trailed off, leaving a heavy silence in its wake.

I was speechless, trying to process everything he was saying. My mind was racing, a million questions running through my head, but I didn’t want to push him. Something about him—his cold detachment—made me think he wouldn’t take kindly to too many questions. I bit my tongue, trying to keep my thoughts to myself.

"Do you remember your name?" he asked suddenly, catching me off guard.

"Yes," I replied quickly. "But… earlier, the granny called me Teacher Li. Is that supposed to be my alias or something?"

The messenger gave a small nod, sitting down on the edge of my bed as if he’d been invited. "It’s one of the Priest’s abilities. He can insert memories that don’t exist to make things easier for the work. It’s all part of the mission."

I stood there, frozen, as he casually explained something so unnatural, so sinister, as though it were the most mundane thing in the world. My identity, my name—none of it was really mine. It had all been crafted by the Priest, for reasons I still didn’t fully understand.

The messenger stood up and walked toward the window, his movements slow and deliberate. "Since you’ve familiarized yourself, I think my job here is done." He looked out into the darkness, his voice soft but firm. "Don’t disappoint the Priest."

Before I could respond, before I could ask him what would happen if I *did* disappoint the Priest, he was gone. He disappeared into the night, swallowed by the darkness outside, leaving me standing alone in the middle of the room.

I stared out the window for a long time, the weight of his words pressing down on me. I didn’t know what was waiting for me in this village, or what the Priest’s ultimate plan was. But one thing was clear: I was just a pawn in something much larger, something far more dangerous than I could have imagined.

And now, I had no choice but to play along.

[outofrealms]

The "Priest"

The room was dimly lit, with candles flickering in the corners casting shadows that danced along the walls. I didn’t know how I had gotten here, and yet, here I was, standing in line with a crowd of people who knelt in awe before a man draped in a dark, flowing robe. He stood at the center of the gathering, towering over us like a king addressing his subjects. His presence commanded reverence—there was something unsettling about him, something otherworldly.

The air was heavy with silence, save for the whispers of prayers and the murmured chants of the others. They called him "The Priest." But he was more than that; he was their leader, their god. I watched as each person, one by one, approached him with bowed heads, receiving his blessing, his command, his…..mission.

I didn’t know why I was here. Everyone else seemed to have a purpose, an understanding of what was expected. But me? I felt like an outsider, a stranger to this eerie ritual. The man in front of me, an older guy with hunched shoulders, moved forward to kneel before the Priest. I could feel the presence of a girl behind me, her breath uneven, as if she was nervous too. I wanted to turn around, to ask her if she knew what was going on, but something stopped me. The atmosphere, the oppressive stillness—everything about this place told me to keep quiet and follow.

The line moved forward slowly, and soon it was my turn. I found myself standing before the Priest, his piercing eyes boring into mine as if he could see right through me. I felt my knees weaken, almost buckling under the weight of his gaze.

He raised his hand, and for a moment, I wondered if I was supposed to kneel like the others. But before I could move, he spoke, his voice low and serpentine, "Your mission."

I blinked, not understanding. Mission? What mission?

"Wait," I blurted out, the words escaping before I could stop myself. "What... what am I supposed to do? Is the mission easy?"

A collective gasp rippled through the crowd, their heads snapping in my direction as if I had just committed the gravest sin. No one dared to speak in the presence of the Priest, and now I had broken that unspoken rule.

For a long, tense moment, the Priest said nothing. The silence was deafening, and I could feel the weight of a hundred eyes on me, waiting for the inevitable punishment. But then, to my surprise, the Priest smiled—or rather, something that resembled a smile. His lips twisted into a smirk, and his voice, like a hiss of amusement, filled the space.

"Easy," he said, his eyes gleaming with an unnatural light. "Like reading a book, organizing things, and sleeping."

The words made no sense. I glanced around at the others, hoping for some kind of explanation, but no one met my gaze. They were all too focused on the Priest, as if hanging on his every word. What kind of mission was this?

Before I could ask again, the Priest extended his hand toward the lake that stretched out behind him. Its surface was dark and still, reflecting the flickering lights around us. Without another word, he gestured for me to move toward it. The man who had been in front of me was already wading into the water, disappearing into the inky depths as though being swallowed by the lake itself. The girl behind me took a sharp breath, and I could feel her trembling.

It wasn’t just a lake. I could sense it now, something lurking beneath the surface, something ancient and hungry. And that’s when it hit me—the Priest, this place, all these people—they weren’t human. The air around him crackled with a demonic energy, a malevolent force that seemed to pull at my very soul. This was no Priest. He was a demon, and these people, they weren’t worshippers—they were his followers, bound to him by some dark, unseen power.

And now I was one of them.

The others began their descent into the water, one by one, vanishing beneath its surface. My heart pounded as I stepped closer to the edge, the water cold and foreboding. I still didn’t know what my mission was or how I had ended up in this nightmare. But the Priest’s voice echoed in my mind, taunting me.

"Easy, like reading a book... organizing things... and sleeping."

As I took my first step into the lake, the chill wrapped around me, and I knew that whatever was waiting beneath the water would be far more terrifying than anything I had ever imagined.