The forest was quiet in a way that felt wrong.
Not peaceful. Not calm.
Watching.
Moonlight filtered through twisted branches, painting the ground in pale streaks of silver. A lone figure moved through the trees—yellow skin catching the light in brief flashes, breath slow and controlled. His footsteps made no sound. Not because he was careful, but because the forest itself seemed to accept him.
He stopped.
A voice echoed from nowhere and everywhere at once.
“For decades… they’ve been gone.”
The yellow demon’s jaw tightened.
The voice continued, distorted, layered—unseen, unnamed.
“Until you.”
He clenched his fists.
“You are the next in kin,” the voice said. “The continuation. The mistake.”
The demon turned toward the trees, eyes glowing faintly. “I didn’t ask for this.”
“What you’ve become makes no sense.”
The air grew colder.
“I know,” the demon said quietly.
A long pause.
Then the voice spoke again—final, unforgiving.
“For the Shadow Clan… I must destroy you.”
The demon closed his eyes.
“…I must do this,” he said, more to himself than anyone else.
The forest swallowed him whole.
Danny’s alarm went off like it personally hated him.
“Ugh—”
He slapped at the clock, missing once, then knocking it halfway off the table.
He rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling. “…Another day.”
He sat up, stretched, yawned—and immediately noticed the problem.
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“…Goddammit.”
He looked down at himself. No shirt.
“Son of a bitch,” Danny muttered. “How does this happen every time?”
He shuffled into the living room. Quiet. Peaceful. No explosions. No angelic judgment. No gods screaming his name from the sky.
“…Woohoo,” he whispered. “First one up.”
Danny made himself pancakes—actual pancakes, not the emergency rations Big B kept trying to push. Halfway through, Shawny wandered in, hair a mess, eyes barely open.
“You made food?” she asked.
Danny slid a plate toward her. “Miracles still happen.”
She smiled sleepily and sat beside him. For a moment, things almost felt normal.
Almost.
Later, Danny grabbed a folded note from the counter. “I’m heading to the post office,” he said. “Back in a bit.”
Shawny raised an eyebrow. “The one in the woods?”
“Yeah,” Danny replied. “Which still makes zero sense.”
He headed out.
The walk took him past the wreckage of the forest—burned trees, cracked earth, scars that hadn’t healed since Heaven’s arrival. Danny slowed, hands in his pockets.
“Man,” he muttered, “I really hope that place didn’t get trashed.”
A scream echoed from above.
“YOU!”
Danny jumped. “What the—”
Sir Dracks’ voice boomed from the mountain. “COME UP HERE.”
Danny sighed. “Of course.”
The climb sucked. By the time he reached the ruined dojo, his legs burned. Inside, Fang and Sir Dracks had erected a small tent amid the broken stone, tools scattered everywhere.
“We’re rebuilding,” Fang explained. “But supplies are… limited.”
Danny scratched his head. “I might know someone who can help. No promises.”
Sir Dracks nodded. “Bring what you can.”
Danny pointed down the mountain. “Gotta drop this off first.”
He ran.
The post office stood intact—but empty.
“…Hello?” Danny called. “Anybody here?”
No response.
“That’s weird,” he muttered. “Not closed on Tuesdays…”
Before he could finish the thought, something yanked him backward.
“Ow—what the hell—?!”
He was dragged into a dark cave, slammed against stone.
“Answer the question,” a voice snapped. “Danny Demon?”
Danny winced. “Oh, come on. Not another one of these.”
“You’re going to die,” the voice said flatly.
Danny squinted. “…Wait.”
The figure stepped into the light.
Yellow skin. Familiar eyes.
“Aren’t you,” Danny said slowly, “that yellow demon from the grocery store?”
The demon nodded. “Indeed.”
Danny sighed. “Great. So… who are you?”
The demon hesitated.
“…Fine,” he said. “My name is Traveler.”
