Ethan Brook sat alone in his dimly lit apartment, the flickering glow of the TV reflecting off empty coffee cups and scattered work papers. The muffled sound of his favorite video game filled the room, a hollow comfort against the quiet monotony of his life. A half-eaten takeout box lay forgotten on the coffee table, much like Ethan's aspirations for something greater.
Groggily, he muttered to himself, "Just one more round… then I'll call it a night." His words felt as hollow as the life he lived—a cycle of work, eat, and escape into digital fantasies.
The soft hum of the game did little to soothe the ache of his thoughts. "I can't believe this is my life," Ethan thought, gripping his controller tighter. "I worked so hard to be someone worth admiring, but now everything feels hollow to me. Maybe I should've stayed as that scrawny kid in high school, hiding behind a screen."
As exhaustion from his 9-to-5 job finally caught up with him Ethan's eyelids grew heavy. The controller slipped from his hands, and he stretched out on the couch. What he thought would be a quick nap dragged him into a dreamless void.
Ethan floated in a surreal abyss, surrounded by fragments of his memories. His mind replayed every pivotal moment, each success overshadowed by an ever-present sense of inadequacy. The void seemed alive, pulsating with every thought that echoed in his head.
"All my life, I've been mediocre," Ethan's voice reverberated in the emptiness. "I didn't want to stay that way. I started hitting the gym at 14, studying harder, sacrificing the things I loved to improve myself. No more snacks, no more wasted hours on the internet."
The memories shifted, revealing a younger Ethan micromanaging every detail of his life. "I wanted perfection—I wanted control. But the more I chased it, the more terrifying it became to face things I couldn't control. I kept giving up pieces of myself, making sacrifices all to avoid the fear of uncertainty."
The abyss around him darkened, mirroring his despair. "Now I'm 27," he whispered. "I've worked my way to a successful career. I make good money, I own a house, and I can eat luxurious food. But I've got no friends to call, no family to turn to. All my hard work paid off, but what did I gain? A hollow life."
Ethan's voice cracked as he continued, "Every day, I wear a smile to fool the world, but inside, I'm dying. I sacrificed my happiness to become someone society would admire, but I've only ended up envying others. Why is that rich kid's life so effortless? Why do some people have beauty, intelligence, or wealth handed to them while I've had to bleed for every scrap?"
His frustration boiled over, his voice trembling with resentment. "Gaming was my only escape. For a few hours, I could forget the bitterness and jealousy eating away at me. But even that wasn't enough. It's like the universe never stopped taking from me."
The fragments of his memories dissolved, leaving Ethan adrift in an endless void. He curled into himself, trembling as tears streamed down his face. "Now what? My life… everything I worked for… it's all gone. Stripped away and thrown into the unknown. What am I now? Nothing but a shattered remnant of who I used to be."
A deep ache resonated within him, something instinctual yet unexplainable. "I'm dead. I know it without question," he thought, his voice breaking in his mind. "But it's more than that... It feels like I've lost something vital, something so close to my essence that I can't even define it."
Surrounded by the suffocating embrace of pure darkness, Ethan felt the weight of his existence—or what was left of it—pressing down on him. "Who am I now?"
Suddenly a blinding light pierced the darkness jolting Ethan awake. He gasped for air, his body trembling.
The damp scent of earth filled his nostrils, and the sounds of distant animal cries surrounded him, sending shivers down his spine. The comforting hum of his apartment was gone; instead,he was now in a dense, shadowy forest.
"W-what the hell?! Where am I?!" he cried, stumbling to his feet. Panic gripped him as his eyes darted around. The towering trees loomed overhead, their twisted branches clawing at the sky. His heart raced—this wasn't a dream. It was too vivid.
His thoughts spiraled. "This doesn't make any sense. How did I get here? Wasn't I just… at home? What is this place?!" He stumbled forward, his head spinning. Suddenly, he spotted a puddle nearby and rushed over, desperate for answers.
But what he saw in his reflection stole the breath from his lungs. A pale face stared back at him, framed by jet-black hair and piercing blood-red eyes. His body bore scars—jagged, raw, and still leaking blood, as if inflicted in a brutal battle.
"This isn't me…" Ethan whispered, his voice quivering. He leaned closer to the puddle, his mind racing. "I've seen this face before… but where?"
Suddenly, memories not his own surged forward, overwhelming his senses. Images of battles, blood-soaked fields, and a relentless swordsman wielding a Nichirin Blade flashed before his eyes. A name surfaced from the chaos, chilling him to his core.
"Muzan Kibutsuji," Ethan muttered, realization dawning. "I'm… I've become him. The Demon King from the Demon Slayer anime."
Ethan collapsed to the ground, clutching his head as the torrent of memories continues to crash over him. Even though they weren't his own, yet they felt as vivid as any moment of his life. He saw flashes of Muzan's epic battle with Yoriichi Tsugikuni, the sheer terror of sunlight and wisteria, and the crushing weight of countless lives extinguished at his hands. Each memory burned into his mind, leaving his breathing ragged and uneven.
Gasping, Ethan blurted out, "Why do I look like this? What's going on?! I was just playing some games! This has to be a dream… right?"
His voice trembled, betraying the panic bubbling beneath the surface. He clenched his fists, desperate to push back the rising tide of fear. "Calm down," he muttered, trying to steady himself. But no matter how hard he tried, the world around him refused to blur into a dream. The damp air clung to his skin, the crunch of leaves beneath his feet echoed in his ears, and a faint metallic scent lingered in the air—too vivid, too real to ignore.
Then, without warning, a hunger like he had never felt before gripped him. It wasn't the dull pang of an empty stomach; it was raw, primal, and insatiable. It clawed at his insides, twisting and gnawing as though an untamed beast had taken residence within him.
"This… this can't be real," Ethan whispered weakly, his voice barely audible. His body trembled violently as he doubled over, clutching his stomach. "This hunger… it's unbearable…"
His legs gave out, sending him crashing to the forest floor. The world around him darkened, the edges of his vision blurring as the overwhelming hunger consumed him. The last thing he felt was the cold earth beneath him and the gnawing void in his core before the darkness swallowed him whole.
When Ethan woke up, his chest heaved, gasping for air, and his entire body trembled. The vivid remnants of alien memories flashed behind his eyes.
Ethan's thoughts raced. "This… this isn't a dream. It's too vivid, too real. Those memories—they were Muzan's. His fears, his battles… his sins."
The world around him felt alien. His breaths came shallow and uneven, his body felt unnaturally heavy, and his senses were sharper than ever. But beneath it all, a creeping dread gnawed at him. His gaze dropped, and his breath caught in his throat. In his hands lay a half-eaten human corpse, blood soaking his hands and clothes.
Horrified, Ethan choked out, "W-what… what the hell is this?!"
Panic surged through him as he scrambled backward, dropping the body as though it burned him. His trembling hands, slick with blood, refused to steady. He stared at them in disbelief, his mind spiraling. His stomach churned violently as his racing thoughts screamed for an explanation.
"This can't be real," he thought desperately, his eyes darting between the crimson stains and the mangled body before him. "I… I ate a human being. Oh god… I actually ate someone. Please, please let this be a dream!"
Falling to his knees, his breath came in ragged gasps. The weight of the scene crushed him, sending his mind into a downward spiral. Doubling over, he retched, though nothing came out. Every nerve in his body screamed that this wasn't a dream. Tears streamed down his face as he clutched his head, a fractured whisper escaping his lips.
"The smell of blood… the metallic taste in my mouth… the pounding in my skull—it's all real. Too real. What the hell is happening to me?"
He gripped his head tighter, his voice shaking as dark thoughts clawed their way to the surface. "This… this is insane. I mean, I've had dark thoughts before—who hasn't? But this? This is something else entirely. Am I some kind of monster deep down? Is that why I'm seeing this? Or… am I not dreaming?"
His teary eyes drifted back to the corpse. The sight made him shudder violently. "No, no, no," he stammered. "This isn't happening. I didn't do this. I couldn't have. God, please, let this be a dream!"
But the crimson stains, the vivid details, and the memories clawing at his mind refused to relent. The truth loomed, undeniable. He steadied himself, trying to take deep breaths as the pieces began to fall into place.
"This isn't just some nightmare," he whispered hoarsely. "The memories, the hunger, the details… it's all too much. Too real."
As the realization clicked, his expression darkened. "Let's say, for argument's sake, that I've somehow transmigrated into Muzan's body. And judging from the memories I saw… this must be after his fight with Yoriichi. It explains the exhaustion, the injuries, and why I'm out here. Muzan barely escaped alive."
Ethan forced himself to his feet, his legs shaky and unsteady. His breaths came deep and slow as he tried to calm his racing heart. The world around him spun with chaos, but he clenched his fists, resolving to confront the horrifying reality he was trapped in.
Ethan took a deep, steadying breath, his mind racing. "Alright, Ethan. Think. Panicking won't help. I need to stay in control. If this is real—and God, I hope it's not—then I have to figure out what's going on. If I'm stuck as Muzan, I've inherited his enemies, his weaknesses… and his sins. One wrong move could end me."
He scanned his surroundings, the dense, eerie forest stretching endlessly in every direction. The rustling leaves and distant growls hinted at unseen dangers lurking nearby, sending a chill down his spine.
"First things first, I need to lay low and gather information. Survival is the priority." He spoke softly to himself, formulating a plan. "I need to understand this body—its abilities and limitations. Muzan's weaknesses to sunlight and wisteria are glaring vulnerabilities. If I want any chance of survival, I have to evolve beyond them. If I can overcome those weaknesses… maybe then I'll have a sliver of security in this maddening reality."
His gaze sharpened as he continued, "Next, I should use this identity as the Demon King to my advantage. Scout for unknown dangers—things the anime or manga didn't show. But while I gather knowledge, I can't lose sight of my goals. I can't let this world dictate my fate."
Ethan sighed heavily, running a bloodied hand through his hair before wiping it on his already-stained clothes. "This situation is completely out of my control," he muttered. "I can only plan so much. Until I have something concrete, I guess I'll have to *roleplay* as the Demon King. How hard can that be?"
The thought brought a bitter laugh to his lips, but the flicker of determination in his eyes grew brighter. He clenched his fists tightly, his expression hardening.
"If I really am Muzan now, then I'll use his power—but not like he did. I won't be a weakling who lashes out at subordinates to mask my incompetence. If I'm going to play the role of the Demon King, then I'll be the best Demon King I can be. I'll rewrite the script."
His voice grew steadier, conviction taking hold. "Remaining as weak as Muzan was is unacceptable. My ultimate goal should be strength—absolute strength. I need to grow so powerful that I become untouchable, invisible to this world's threats. My enemies, even those like Yoriichi, will be powerless against me. If I can reach a level where Yoriichi himself could strike me for three days and three nights without leaving a scratch… only then will I know I've truly won."
Ethan's fists trembled slightly as he resolved to rise above Muzan's legacy. His heart still raced with fear, but determination coursed through his veins. He wasn't going to just survive—he was going to dominate.
---
Narrator:
Little did Ethan realize, the remnants of Muzan's final desires had imprinted themselves deeply onto his subconscious. This latent influence worked insidiously reshaping his psyche and accelerating the transformation of his personality in ways he couldn't yet comprehend.
---
Ethan spent the next several hours testing his newfound abilities. His strength was monstrous, his speed inhuman. Every sense was heightened, every instinct sharp.
"This power…" he muttered, crushing a tree trunk with his bare hand. "It's no wonder Muzan was feared. But arrogance is what killed him. I can't make the same mistakes."
As night fell, Ethan settled in a small clearing, his thoughts a storm of guilt and determination
Ethan's thoughts churned, dark and relentless. "I know the path I must take to achieve my goals, but the weight of the atrocities I'll commit may haunt me, filling my mind with guilt and dread every passing day."
He paused, taking a deep, shuddering breath. "But so what? If survival demands these acts, then so be it. If I don't consume humans, I'll starve and perish. If I don't kill those who seek my end, like the Demon Slayers, I'll surely die. Survival always demands sacrifice—no matter how monstrous."
He recalled a quote that now felt eerily relevant: "To be a demon is to be merciless and cruel, a murderer and destroyer. There is no place in heaven or earth for such a being—turning into an enemy of the world, facing all its consequences."
Ethan continued his grim reasoning. "Across all worlds—this one and my previous—the same principle reigns supreme: the law of the jungle. The strong consume the weak. It's always a choice between kill or be killed, eat or be eaten. Just as humans slaughter animals to survive, demons consume humans for their own. Do humans ask animals for permission to kill and eat them? Of course not. Similarly, demons act out of necessity, not cruelty."
His expression darkened further. "When you strip it down, humans and demons aren't so different. Both strive for survival. The only difference lies in the prey each sacrifices."
His gaze drifted downward, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Life and death—it's nature's law. In the face of death, all living beings are equal. Whether you're royalty or a commoner, your death is no different from an animal's. Dead is dead."
The thought lingered for a moment before a bitter chuckle escaped his lips. "Of all the stories I've read about transmigration, it's always into heroes or underdogs. Did my warped thoughts cause me to end up in Muzan Kibutsuji's body? Am I some twisted reflection of my own mind—a man-eating monster?"
He paused again, his jaw tightening. "Maybe I am a monster… but that's a question for another day. Right now, I need to focus."
As the night enveloped the forest, the air grew colder, and the shadows stretched longer. Ethan found a small clearing, the silence amplifying the storm of thoughts in his mind.
"Enough philosophical questions." He straightened up, his voice steady. "First, I need to figure out where I am in this universe's timeline. If this is after Yoriichi's fight, the original Muzan is likely in hiding. That might buy me some time."
His thoughts sharpened. "Second, I need to experiment with this body's powers. If I'm truly taking over Muzan's life, I'll have to do it right. That means uniting the demons he created—those he left to their own devices—and turning them into a proper force."
He glanced at the stars above, their distant light seeming to mirror his growing resolve. "I don't know how or why I'm here, but one thing is certain: Muzan's legacy won't go to waste. If rewriting his story is what it takes, then so be it."
The forest seemed to hold its breath as Ethan's thoughts turned darker. "If I'm Muzan now, does that mean I'm destined to repeat his mistakes? To strive for greatness only to fall short because of incompetence?" His fists clenched, nails digging into his palms as his blood-red eyes burned with defiance.
"No," he hissed under his breath. "I won't be a puppet of fate."
The stars seemed to shine brighter, as though bearing witness to his vow. "I will rewrite Muzan's story. No more mistakes. No more wasted potential. No more plot armor for the protagonists. I'll become the greatest Demon King this world has ever seen."
The weight of his new reality settled on him like a heavy cloak—oppressive yet empowering. Whether this was a curse or an opportunity, Ethan knew one thing: he wouldn't back down.
Taking a step forward into the unknown, he whispered to himself, "If I've already lost everything, what's left to fear?"
Author's Note's: So, what did you guys think of my story? Did I cook or not? Let me know your thoughts in the comments. Anyway thanks for taking the time to read this, and I hope you have an amazing day!