Why…? Why am I here, like this?

  The final chapter of my life had closed, the feeling was–-calming, yet I was disappointed with the way things had turned out in the end.

  My soul was elevating upwards, I didn’t feel hot or cold, however I did feel the heavy bearing weight of responsibility being lifted away from my spiritual shoulders, soothly leaving further and further until I realized I truly had responsibility no longer.

  I spent my life climbing massive heights to reach the top. Bloodied, bruised, fractured. It didn’t matter because the goal of being the strongest is what mattered most. years would go by and my weakness would fade making room for my newfound strength. I didn’t have much competition, I was nearly unrivaled.

  Nearly…

  From childhood, I looked down on the weak. They disgusted me—frail bodies, fragile minds, people who accepted their place beneath others, their hopeless cries of despair, begging with remorse. I had come to acknowledge others with strength as adversaries to my great future, regardless if they were an “ally” or not.

  My noble birth surrounded me with pompous fools who thought their titles made them powerful, they didn't, but the peasants... oh, how they enraged me, Weak, bony creatures who couldn’t hurt a fly, their eyes always pointed at the ground, too afraid to stand up for themselves, the only time they did stand up was to commit foolish crimes that led them to prison or sometimes even execution. They never bothered to make something of themselves, to hone themselves as an unmatchable weapon to get whatever they want like I have.

  Once, when I was still a boy, I passed a group of nobles beating a peasant senseless in the mud, my teeth gritted together, not at the nobles but at the thought that anyone could just accept being that weak and take a beating like that.

  One of them laughed, grinding his heel into the man's back.

  "Filth like you should be glad superior beings like us are gracing you with our boots!" Another spat, sneering down at the broken body. "When we’re through, you’ll never look a noble in the eye again.” “You hear me?"

  They were right about one thing, the peasant was filth, but they were wrong about everything else.

  There was only one superior being in this world.

  Me…

  My vision as well as values for life would be proven to be 100% true if the biggest contradiction to my way of life wasn’t always there to oppose me at every turn, to conflict with all my ideas of what strength truly was.

  The nobles continued beating the man as he had cried for help. “Help me please!” I had looked at him with disappointment and thought the beating served him right.

  But then…

  He showed up.

  “Leave him alone, or there’s going to be an issue between us.” He was no older than I was. He had black hair with hints of gray in it, medium and messy in length, blue eyes, with a lean build yet still slightly developed and impressive for a young child.

  “Oh really? What kind of problem can a punk like you give to the two of us? You got some sort of suicidal wish or something? Get lost.” He had looked at the nobles without a surprise, he had expected the answer and looked at the noblemen with disappointment at the same time, but it was much different than mine for the peasant, with its very different reasoning.

  “Please just run to your mother, you’re too young to help me. You’ll stain blood on my hands.” The peasant talked like he wasn’t spared by his intervention. Yet he still looked at the peasant and gave him calming words. “Don’t worry, just trust me, I won't let anything happen to you while I'm here. Got it?” I didn’t realize it then but that peasant had immediately fallen unconscious, as if he felt safe or relieved enough to entrust his well-being to Him.

  Shortly after the nobles charged Him with their fist.

  “You'll join your little boyfriend down there soon, don't worry!” He readied himself in a battle stance waiting for the nobles to attack him first. The nobles foolishly charged in, one had gone towards His right side and the other towards His left. “Foolish.” He said as He lifted both nobles in the air with a wind gust. It was a very rare thing for people to be able to wield magic, there were only under 700 who could wield it in my lifetime. I wasn’t one, but He annoyingly was.

  “Woah this kid can use magic?! let's get out of here!” It annoyed me that they accepted their loss so easily but then again at that moment, I was too jealous to think about it. I had seen my greatest adversary for the first time, He was…

  Arzith.

  Since that day…

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  As I grew, I fought in wars. I honed my strength, my inability to use magic barred me from a great power, but my physical strength is where it made up for it. I had even used magical runes in order to be able to cast spells, with the catch being I couldn’t cast any spells if I ran out of runes.

  I was the son of an influential man and so I staged a coup and overthrew my father, the weak King of Dystoria. Even some within the palace had seen his flaws—and backed my claim.

  The plan succeeded. I became king. But that title wasn’t enough.

  Soon, I declared war on neighboring kingdoms. I expanded. Conquered. Destroyed. Arzith was always in the way… Arzith never approved of how I ran my Kingdom based on the strongest of the fittest and so he joined a neighboring kingdom as a general to oppose me. Arzith may have been strong yet always so naive and stupidly caring for the weak. I had so many resources at my disposal that it made his push against pointless and annoying.

  I wasn’t a king anymore.

  I became Emperor Raspien of Dystoria, ruler of all I laid eyes upon.

  I had wealth. Power. Glory. I had everything. With all this I died in the most selfish way possible…

  Raspien vs Arzith…

  I had bested Arzith many times before, he had bested me many times as well. I gave him an offer he could never have refused.

  A Death Battle…

  He was not interested at first but when I gave my offer... “You're willing to free the peoples of the Dystorian Empire if I beat you in a battle?” He was ignoring the critical part that I wanted most from this battle.

  “Kill–I want you to try and kill me, same as how I will try and kill you.” I had made my goal clear. “For years I had craved strength and I did whatever it took to achieve it, yet you were always the pain in my side that stood in my path to standing at the top alone.”

  “I may have beaten you in a war due to my superior army, resources, and ruthless tactics that you would never even dream of doing because of your caring weak heart. But… It will never compare to a one on one fight to the death to settle who's the greatest once and for all.”

  “Your power and rare affinity in magic gave you something I could never have, yet I alone will still beat and overcome you.” He laughed at me for a moment.

  “In all the years I’ve known you, I never thought I was a pain on your side, considering you always had a better hand than I did in war.”

  “You were always crushing the many dreams of the citizens of this world. I had always used my strength to help those who couldn’t defend themselves because it was the right thing to do. It was these moments that gave me purpose and reason to get stronger, that there are those too good for this world to harm anyone.”

  “This was my resolve for it all. Just when I thought it was all over and maybe my view on life had been wrong. Your ego and weakness to underestimate and look down on people gave me the perfect opportunity for redemption. To prove you wrong, my fight against you will be backed by all the souls you ended for no other reason than cold hearted ambition and strength.”

  His speech made me laugh as well. Me being weak? In his dreams.

  “What are you waiting for? Let's begin then.” I said getting ready for my final battle. “RASPIEN!” , “ARZITH!” we both heatedly exchanged.

  Unfortunately…

  This was all I remembered from my final moments, it was unclear what had happened to me. By the looks of it, I think Arzith had won… thus was the reason I was disappointed.

  Could he have been right?

  My greatest rival, adversary, foe, or whatever had just beaten me. Is fighting for the weak really the true source of strength? These thoughts slowly faded as the responsibility left and so did my stress and worries, like a river flowing back into an ocean becoming part of something greater...

  My soul began to move faster. I wonder who I was going to have to answer to, maybe God or one of his Angels. I had done lots of bad in my life by “Humanitarian” standards so maybe I was going to meet someone much worse. Still without any stress I had these thoughts, unfazed and unworried, a strange occurrence.

  My soul suddenly stopped moving up, and I could see. Another soul was beside me, was it me? No it couldn’t have been me, it was definitely another soul. Suddenly we began moving sideways but in different directions, I went left while the other soul went right.

  We met back in the same place then swapped directions. It felt as if we were being pulled in by greater forces. Fighting for which soul they would end up with. Similar to tug of war, a very supernatural tug of war.

  There were definitely higher beings at work behind this.

  But why?

  One could only wonder for now.

  Then finally we were pulled in separate directions for good but at extremely fast rates with no sign of stopping. Who was that other soul?

  Why did it join me so late? But more importantly why did my vision just go away again!?

  I felt all my feelings return to me, the weight of responsibility still hadn't returned so that was nice.

  My craving for strength was the biggest feeling to return. It felt like part of my body was nourished with a long needed nutritious meal.

  My hate for the weak returned as well but it was…

  Conflicted.

  I hated the weak with every fiber of my being.

  So why... why in this new life…

  ...am I born as what I hated most?

  The weak.

  When I opened my eyes, I saw dozens of newborns lying in nests of hay. They came in all colors—gray, red, blue—skin, eyes closed, breathing shallow.

  Demons. Or at least that's what fantasy books had described what I had seen in my past life.

  A demon woman stood watching us, she was a caretaker, her arms crossed, tail elevated behind her. Her voice grated in my ears.

  “150 days.” she said, her tone flat. “You all have 150 days before you’re put to good use. Lowest of the low—practically slaves. What a pity. The Demon Queen won’t be pleased. Oh well It can’t be helped, we will still have to closely eye all of you. Although I don’t think it’s necessary, the Queen does.” she said in a condescending tone.

  I understood her. The language made sense in my head, not from memory—but through something deeper. A connection, it felt that we all shared a connection that allowed us to communicate. I’m not human anymore. I’m a demon.

  A newborn demon. And the worst part? The connection inside me wasn’t just for communication. A tug. A voice I don’t hear but feel—pulling me toward loyalty. Obedience. Submission.

  It’s her.

  The Demon Queen.

  All of us are connected to her, although she isn’t near, I still feel it.

  And how dare that demon woman call me weak?

  But... she’s right. In this body, I am nothing. No strength. No influence. Just another creature waiting to be shackled. No different than a peasant.

  I tried clenching my tiny fists, barely able to move them.

  I have 150 days. 150 days before I’m thrown into hard labor and forced to live as filth. I must resist this bond.

  I must keep my mind. My will.

  This isn’t over. If I must crawl through this hell surrounded by the weak, then so be it. But I will claim my mind again.

  Even in inconvenient form…

  I will become stronger than ever before.