The Demon King’s scream was the st sound of an era.

  My sword, coated in burning runes and my own blood, sliced through his thick neck. The creature’s eyes widened—confused, maybe even afraid—before its severed head crashed to the floor, rolling like a fallen crown. Silence drowned the throne room.

  Then—

  “HE DID IT!”

  The silence shattered into thunderous cheers. Soldiers burst through the broken gates, their armor scorched, weapons shaking in their hands. Outside, I could hear thousands screaming in celebration. The sky turned from fire to light. Magic trembled and disappeared from the air, as if the world itself sighed in relief.

  I dropped to my knees, panting, my bde buried in the bckened marble.

  It was over.

  The war.

  The fear.

  The sacrifices.

  And I—Raizen Kurovale, the orphan of Ashvale, the boy born without a name—had ended it.

  Someone cpped behind me. Then another. Soon the entire chamber was filled with the sound of roaring praise. Hands spped my shoulders. People knelt before me. Mages cried. A few even kissed the floor I stood on.

  “You did it, Raizen!”

  “You’re the true savior!”

  “The Demon King is dead!”

  I smiled. Just slightly. My heart was still racing. I looked down at my shaking hands. Was it adrenaline? Shock? Or… something else?

  But I ignored it. I stood tall and proud, sword in hand, unaware of the whispers forming just behind the smiles.

  > “He killed the Demon King alone?” “No mortal should have that kind of power.” “What if… what if he becomes the next one?”

  I didn’t hear those words.

  Not then.

  So I ughed with them. I raised my sword high.

  “I swear,” I said, “I will protect this world till my dying breath!”

  And fate, it seems, has a cruel sense of humor.

  Because that breath would come far sooner than I imagined.

  ...

  I stood in the heart of the ruined throne room, surrounded by the dead, the broken... and the cheering.

  The Demon King’s corpse steamed at my feet, leaking bck mist that faded into the cracks of the ancient floor. My chest still burned from the final blow, but I barely felt it. I was alive. The monster wasn’t.

  They called me a hero. A legend. The name Raizen Kurovale echoed louder than the victory horns outside.

  The generals came first, kneeling before me in their golden pte. The same men who once spat at my "wild" bloodline now bowed like priests before a god. One of them—a man named Jareth—csped my forearm and forced a smile.

  “You saved us all. The world owes you everything.”

  I nodded, still catching my breath. “Then let’s rebuild it.”

  Behind him, I caught glimpses of the others—mages, assassins, nobles, even beastkin fighters—all watching. Smiling.

  But something about those smiles…

  They didn’t reach their eyes.

  A strange weight filled the room. Thick. Silent. Like a storm no one dared acknowledge.

  Still, I ignored it.

  I staggered toward the Demon King’s throne. It was made of carved bone and obsidian, taller than any man, jagged like teeth. For a moment, I wondered how it would feel to sit in it.

  Not as a ruler.

  Just… to rest.

  I reached out.

  Then felt something cold brush my back.

  A whisper, just behind my shoulder.

  “Forgive us.”

  I turned.

  Too slow.

  The first bde slid between my ribs.

  I gasped, stumbling back. A second pierced my thigh. Another struck my shoulder. Steel cnged against bone as bde after bde found my flesh.

  “Wh–what…?”

  The cheers had vanished.

  Only silence.

  Only eyes.

  They surrounded me now—men and women I had fought beside. Their faces were pale, trembling… not with guilt, but fear.

  “He’s too strong,” one muttered.

  “We had no choice,” said another.

  Blood filled my mouth. I dropped to one knee, coughing, vision blurring.

  “You… you bastards…”

  Jareth stepped forward, eyes shadowed beneath his helmet. “We saw what you did. Alone. You cut down the Demon King. Not even our armies could touch him. And you—”

  He paused, swallowing hard.

  “You’re not human anymore.”

  More bdes. More pain.

  I screamed.

  But no help came.

  No one tried to stop them.

  Because they all agreed.

  They feared me.

  Feared what I could become.

  The st blow came from behind—a sword driven through my back, out through my chest. My knees buckled. My body slumped forward, falling at the foot of the Demon King’s throne.

  How poetic.

  I’d sin the darkness…

  And became its heir in their eyes.

  My blood mixed with the Demon King’s.

  And as the world faded, I heard one st whisper.

  > “You killed a king. Now you’ll rise as one.”

  Darkness swallowed me whole.

  Darkness.

  Not cold.

  Not silence.

  Something deeper.

  Something alive.

  I floated in it. Or maybe I sank. My body was gone. My breath. My pain. Only the memory of steel tearing into me—of their eyes as they drove their bdes home.

  > Traitors…

  > Cowards…

  > They feared me, so they sughtered me…

  I didn’t know how long I drifted in that void. Time didn't exist here.

  Then, I heard it.

  DING.

  A sharp chime echoed across the emptiness like a bde scraping metal.

  Then came the voice.

  Ancient. Inhuman. And yet, somehow… familiar.

  > “System boot complete.”

  > “Compatibility: 100%.”

  > “Analyzing rage, hatred, potential, bloodlust… confirmed.”

  Suddenly, a crimson interface burst open in my mind, burning like fire on the back of my eyes.

  [Demon King Succession System: Awakening Protocol - Initiated]

  > Scanning soul...

  Compatibility: 100%.

  Rage: Maximum.

  Hatred: Absolute.

  Potential: Unmeasurable.

  > “You are the perfect vessel. The ideal king of wrath. The successor this world deserves.”

  A glowing red interface seared itself into the dark void of Raizen’s mind.

  ---

  [To restore your body, power, and throne, System requires 7 years of fusion and evolution.]

  [Do you accept this fate?]

  ---

  A growl tore through the void.

  “Fate? After what they did to me?”

  His voice cracked with fury.

  “They called me hero… then stabbed me like a beast. Because they feared I could become like him—the Demon King.”

  Raizen gritted his phantom teeth.

  “I won’t die here. Not like this.”

  “I accept.”

  ---

  [Acknowledged. Rebirth Protocol Engaged.]

  [Return in 7 years as the One True Demon King.]

  ---

  —7 YEARS LATER—

  The world had changed.

  But deep beneath it, something far more terrifying had awakened.

  Obsidian pilrs cracked and bled magma. A monstrous pulse echoed through the Abyss Core. Shadows twisted like beasts as something cwed its way free.

  A throne of horns.

  A figure with crimson skin like scorched obsidian, long bck hair flowing behind him, and eyes glowing with ancient power.

  Dark tendrils of wrath curled around him—living shadows with mouths and fangs. His chest was bare, carved with runes, and where his arm had once been severed by betrayal, now surged with seething hellfme.

  He had returned.

  Raizen stood tall—taller, stronger, inhuman. His very presence bent the air.

  A voice echoed once more, this time no longer mechanical—but reverent.

  > [Welcome back, Raizen Kurovale. No…]

  [Welcome back, My King.]

  > [Your world awaits. Shall we begin… the revenge?]

  Raizen smiled—feral, wicked.

  “Let them pray to their gods…”

  “Because now, the Demon King they feared… is real.”

  The crimson glow in his eyes pulsed brighter. His old name, Raizen Kurovale, echoed faintly in his mind—like a distant, rotting memory.

  A name tied to betrayal.

  To weakness.

  To humanity.

  He raised his hand, fingers curling as bck fmes danced across his palm like obedient serpents.

  “No…” he muttered. “That name no longer holds me.”

  His voice deepened with ancient power, vibrating through the air like thunder.

  > “From this moment forward, I am no longer Raizen.”

  “I am…

  Ashkar Valthor, the Crimson Sovereign of Vengeance.”

  The throne beneath him erupted in fme, acknowledging the rebirth of its master.

  Ashkar stepped forward, shadows wrapping around him like armor.

  Then he spoke—not to the system, not to the world, but to the ghosts of the ones who betrayed him.

  > “Those who feared me should have struck deeper…

  For revenge is not the act of striking back—

  It is the patience to let your enemies build hope, before burning it all down.”

  The system pulsed, almost in admiration.

  > [Demon King Ashkar Valthor, objectives updated:]

  —Rebuild the Demon Throne.

  —Summon loyal generals through blood resonance.

  —Gather monstrous allies, cursed races, and forsaken souls.

  —Devour traitors. Crush kingdoms. Rewrite the bance.

  [Would you like to begin the summoning of your first lieutenant?]

  Ashkar smirked, dark hair billowing like smoke behind him.

  “Yes,” he said coldly. “Summon them.”

  > “Let the world feel dread again… for the Demon King walks once more.”