As the demon prowled through the graveyard, he sniffed the air. Something dark, yet virtuous was coming his way. As he got closer to the source of the foul odor, he froze in terror. A lone, robed, priest knelt before one of the graves, his hands clutching a crucifix. He recognized the mask. He didn't even need to see the front, the side being ample enough to spread fear to his bones. It was the Holy Slayer, Father Midas. Or father Madness, as the demons had grown to name him. Suddenly, the robed figured began to slowly rise up. The demon knew it was going to die, but not without a fight. The monster let out a deafening roar, almost waking the dead around him. The robe fell. The cross in Midas' hand glowed bright gold.

The demon never saw what had fallen him as he awakened in the Void. But now he knew why so many feared Father Madness.