A/N: Okay, just a heads-up! The MC (main character) is going to be the Dragon Lord—basically, a dragon in the same way Muzan is a demon (cough vampire cough).
And bro? He's just a chill guy who wants to build a harem, achieve immortality, and maybe take a nap or two in between. You know, the usual dragon stuff.
Also, I won't be strictly following the Demon Slayer plot because, let's be honest, it's kind of boring to retread something someone else has already written. Where's the fun in that? Instead, expect some twists, turns, and a whole lot of chaos.
Oh, and one more thing: the MC is from China. Yeah, no Japan this time—I wanted to try something new and spice things up a bit. So, get ready for a fresh take on the whole demon-slaying (or dragon-lording) genre!
...
After reading the last chapter of Demon Slayer, I couldn't help but shout at the top of my lungs:
"WHAT BULLSHIT!"
I slammed my iPhone onto the other side of the bed with the kind of dramatic flair usually reserved for soap operas.
My face was a masterpiece of emotion—disappointment, frustration, and a hint of existential despair. I wasn't mad, per se. Just... deeply, profoundly disappointed.
I was not mad... Just disappointed.
How could I not be? Muzan, the so-called "king of demons," had everything I could ever want: immortality, an army of loyal demons, and the kind of dramatic flair that would make a Broadway actor jealous.
And yet, this absolute buffoon managed to get himself killed by a bunch of teenagers. Teenagers!
I mean, come on, BRO! You're immortal! You have demons at your beck and call! You're basically the final boss of the anime world! And yet, you go out like some chump who tripped over his own shoelaces?
Truly, Muzan has earned the title of "Biggest Idiot in Anime History." If I were in his shoes—or lack thereof, since he's a demon—I could've done so much better. Like, so much better.
But alas... sigh. I'm not in Demon Slayer, am I? My life isn't some poorly written fanfiction where I die tragically and get reincarnated as a demon-slaying badass.
Nope. I'm just a regular guy, stuck in a regular world, with a regular life.
...Right?
OF COURSE, I'M RIGHT! I'm a real person, not some fictional character. I don't have plot armor, a tragic backstory, or a cool sword. I'm just me.
"Sigh."
With another dramatic sigh, I turned my gaze toward the window. The sun was dipping below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink.
Outside, kids were laughing and playing under the warm glow of the streetlights, their carefree voices drifting up to my hospital room.
Meanwhile, I was stuck here, feeling like Squidward in that meme where he's staring out the window, watching SpongeBob and Patrick have the time of their lives while he's trapped in his own personal hell.
Life's funny like that, isn't it? One minute, you're ranting about anime villains, and the next, you're questioning your entire existence while watching children play tag. Maybe I should've been born in an isekai. At least then I'd have a cool sword.
And a harem bigger than a city's population.
"Fuck this... I'm just gonna read some pornhwa," I muttered under my breath, my frustration bubbling over like a pot of ramen left on the stove too long.
My heart felt like it was about to explode, and not in the romantic, anime-confession kind of way. No, this was the "I'm trapped in a hospital room and losing my mind" kind of explosion.
Why was I even here? I had no clue. MAYBE I'D KNOW IF MY MOTHER STOPPED CRYING EVERY TIME SHE LOOKED AT ME AND IF THOSE DOCTORS ACTUALLY TOLD ME SOMETHING FOR ONCE.
Seriously, just tell me what's going on! Is it too much to ask for a little transparency? Or at least a PowerPoint presentation?
Just thinking about the mess my life had turned into made me want to scream into a pillow. Or maybe throw my hospital tray across the room. But alas, I was too tired for that kind of drama.
Sigh... Calm down, Aron. Calm down. You're better than this.
To put it simply, I come from a pretty wealthy family. I used to live a normal life—well, as normal as it gets when you're a rich kid who just became an adult. I had plans, dreams, and a really nice gaming setup. But then, everything changed last year.
No, it wasn't the Fire Nation. (Though that would've been way cooler.) It was something far less exciting: I was diagnosed with some mysterious disease.
And by "mysterious," I mean NO ONE WILL TELL ME WHAT IT IS. MY PARENTS? CRYING. THE DOCTORS? VAGUE. ME? COMPLETELY IN THE DARK.
It's like I'm the protagonist of a bad mystery novel, except instead of solving crimes, I'm stuck in a hospital bed Googling my symptoms and convincing myself I have every illness known to man.
And yeah, for the past year, I've been trapped in this sterile, white-walled prison. I couldn't even play GTA 34—though, let's be real, Rockstar releases a new version of GTA every year anyway.
Honestly, they're kind of slacking. WHO WAITS A WHOLE YEAR FOR A GAME THESE DAYS? THEY SHOULD BE PUMPING THEM OUT EVERY SIX MONTHS LIKE CLOCKWORK. But I digress.
They also charge a outrageous amount of money for their games.... Like who charges 5 dollars for a game? What are you EA?
Back to my tragic existence.
As I opened my iPhone—which, by the way, was the latest model, the Apple Fold Max—I couldn't help but feel a smug sense of superiority. I mean, come on, Apple actually innovates.
Unlike some companies (cough Samsung cough) that just keep recycling the same design year after year. Seriously, who even buys their phones anymore?
Do they have a secret fan club of people who love paying for the same rectangle with slightly better cameras?
Anyway, I unlocked my phone with a satisfying click and opened Google.
Then, with the kind of finesse only a seasoned internet veteran can muster, I tapped on private browsing—Apple's version of incognito mode.
You know, for... research purposes.
I typed in the search bar with the precision of a master chef crafting the perfect dish:
"Demon Slayer females... bath hentai."
HAHAHAH... There's something oddly thrilling about indulging in this kind of thing every now and then.
It's like a guilty pleasure, except the guilt is outweighed by the sheer entertainment value. Plus, let's be real, who doesn't appreciate a little... artistic interpretation of their favorite characters?
But just as I tapped on the link to the xhentai website—my go-to destination for such cultural enrichment—something unexpected happened.
Instead of being greeted by the usual array of... ahem... content, I was suddenly transported to another website.
"Ugh, not again," I groaned. "A freaking ad? Really? I hate ads!"
Or at least, I thought I hated ads. But as I looked closer, I realized this wasn't your run-of-the-mill pop-up for sketchy weight loss pills or questionable online casinos.
No, this was something far more intriguing. It was a game ad, and front and center was none other than Mitsuri Kanroji, looking... well, let's just say she wasn't wearing her usual Demon Slayer uniform.
(She wasn't wearing anything at all)
I blinked. Then blinked again. Maybe... maybe I didn't hate ads
{Do you wanna sign up?}
A question popped up on my screen, accompanied by a bright, shiny button that practically screamed, "CLICK ME!" And hell yeah, I wanted to sign up. I mean, how could I resist?
There was Mitsuri, looking like she'd just stepped out of a very different kind of anime, and the promise of... whatever this game was. Without a second thought, I pressed the button.
And then...
BOOM!
My iPhone exploded.
And I died.... Maybe?