After all the madness had ceased, Arthur awoke from his sleep. His vacant gaze fixed on the decaying ceiling above him. In an instant, his mind dragged him back to the events of last night. A dream? He wanted to believe it was nothing more than a nightmare, but the wounds on his body and the charred remnants of his school uniform told him otherwise.

  That morning, as usual, he got up and prepared for the day. But not for school. His uniform was ruined, and his hatred for that place had only grown stronger. Today, he chose to work, setting up his tools to continue his job as a humble shoe shiner. At the very least, it helped with their finances and allowed him to save for his mother’s medical treatment.

  Under the scorching sun, Arthur offered his services to passing pedestrians. Yet, as the evening fell upon the city, only five people had spared him their coins.

  "Hah... This wretched world. How much longer must I endure this suffering?" he sighed inwardly.

  On his way home, a sharp honk halted his steps. From the distance, someone strode toward him with arrogance. Ezekiel.

  The young man looked pristine and smelled of luxury—everything Arthur was not. With a sneer of contempt, Ezekiel tossed a bundle of cloth at him.

  "Hey, my pet pig! Here, take this… My apologies for burning that pathetic uniform of yours yesterday! Hahaha—don’t forget to wear it!"

  Ezekiel laughed mockingly before stepping into his lavish car and driving off. Arthur simply lowered his gaze, gripping the uniform tightly. He smiled.

  But that smile was empty, a fragile mask concealing the agony within.

  With a heavy heart, he returned home. Upon arrival, he cleaned himself up and prepared a meal for his mother. She was the only light in this dark world, the sole warmth amidst his suffering.

  Once the meal was ready, he carried a plate into her room. With gentle hands, he picked up a spoon, ready to feed her.

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  "Mother, let’s eat..."

  No response.

  Arthur froze. He observed her face. Pale. Lips unmoving.

  But he refused to believe it.

  "Aah… Why am I thinking such nonsense? Hihihi… She’s just sleeping, right? I’ll wait for you, Mom..."

  For hours, he sat before her lifeless body, smiling as if convincing himself that this was all an illusion. Yet, when he finally leaned in to check her breath...

  Reality struck him.

  She was gone.

  Tears streamed down his face, but his expression remained blank—his soul had withered alongside the only person he had ever loved.

  Without a word, Arthur rose, retrieved a shovel, and began digging a grave behind their house.

  The heavens wept with him. Rain poured, wind howled, lightning cracked the sky. Yet, he kept digging, unfazed by the cold biting into his skin. Every shovelful of earth reminded him of his suffering—the humiliation, the loneliness, the ruin.

  His heart rotted in hatred.

  And now, only two thoughts consumed him: to destroy the world or to end himself.

  Once the grave was deep enough, he gently laid his mother’s body within it.

  It was done.

  Only emptiness remained.

  Arthur returned inside, grabbed a bottle of rat poison. His hands trembled as he twisted the cap off. His eyes were bloodshot, his gaze hollow.

  Without hesitation, he drank it.

  Then, he set the house on fire.

  Flames devoured the walls, the furniture, the memories. The inferno reflected in his fading eyes.

  With faltering steps, Arthur staggered toward his mother’s grave. His body weakened. He collapsed, his eyes fluttering shut, embracing the end.

  But in those final moments, just as consciousness slipped away, something appeared.

  A figure loomed before him.

  A figure he had seen in his dreams.

  "Hah? Look at you... pitiful, yet intriguing. Aren’t you even curious who I am? Or at least a little surprised?"

  Arthur, resigned to his fate, let out a weak chuckle.

  "What right do I have to ask? I don’t even have the right to live..."

  The demon laughed.

  "Hahaha! Even as you die, your hatred and wrath persist. What a waste to let it all end here."

  Arthur’s lifeless eyes stared blankly.

  "I am Bealforin, a demon born from eternal darkness. Before the final judgment, I will bring calamity… and I have chosen you, oh King."

  Arthur’s breath hitched.

  "King? What do you mean?"

  "You are the heir to the throne of darkness. I can pull you back from death, and in return, you will give me one thing… vengeance. Accept me as your servant, and I shall raise you as the new ruler—the one who will bring true equality to this wretched world."

  Arthur’s blood boiled. His smoldering rage flared anew. The void in his eyes burned with unholy fire.

  "Defying the world...? HAHAHAHA!"

  Bealforin watched in amusement.

  "I suppose that’s what I desire… Of course, I know nothing comes for free. You’re a demon… and I don’t care."

  Arthur grinned—his first genuine smile, not one of resignation, but of madness.

  "I accept!"

  Bealforin’s lips curled into a wicked grin.

  "Very well. I shall purge the poison from your body… Prepare yourself. Ah, but I forgot… you enjoy dying, don’t you? Hahaha! Your Majesty… rise!"

  Arthur’s blood seared through his veins. His entire being was torn apart and rebuilt. He howled in agony, yet amidst the screams, laughter echoed.

  And within the raging storm, a new king was born.