The battlefield stood divided.
On one side, the majestic army of the Gods — adorned in golden armor and bathed in divine light. On the other, the legion of the abyss, commanded by the Demon Lord himself — a being cloaked in darkness, his very presence staining the air with dread.
Above them, the skies churned with dark crimson clouds, swirling as though the heavens themselves were holding their breath.
Floating high above the battlefield, the Demon God Zerath Kael'thar raised his hand toward the sky. The clouds rumbled in response, and black thunder cracked through the heavens. The winds screamed in fury, spiraling around him like a vortex of death. With a swift motion, he turned his palm downward — and from the storm, colossal serpents forged from pure shadow and lightning tore through the air, crashing into the heart of the divine army.
Their impact shattered the earth. Mountains crumbled. Holy shields were ripped apart like paper. The serpents roared as they wrapped around celestial beasts and heavenly knights, devouring them in a storm of darkness and electric wrath.
Screams echoed. Soldiers — both mortal and celestial — were torn apart. The ground trembled beneath the weight of annihilation.
Yet even with his devastating power, the tide did not turn.
The army of the Gods was vast, nearly endless. And one by one, the demons fell. Until at last, Zerath Kael'thar stood alone, surrounded by ruin, his forces reduced to ash.
Smoke and blood covered the land. Mangled bodies — of humans, demons, and angels alike — lay scattered. The skies darkened further as five radiant figures descended from the heavens, their presence warping reality itself.
The Five Heavenly Gods encircled the fallen Demon Lord, who now knelt amidst the carnage, his body heavily wounded and parts of it seemingly disintegrated by divine strikes.
One of the gods spoke, his voice 0thunderous, filled with arrogance and scorn.
"You pitiful demon... We gave you a chance — a place among us, as a pawn in the great order. But you chose betrayal. You are a mistake that this world no longer needs."
Another added coldly:
"You should feel honored, Zerath Kael'thar. It is by our hands that you will perish."
And so they struck.
Light engulfed him.
"Entertainment..."
The word echoed in his mind as darkness crept in. Zerath's thoughts swirled with regret and rage.
"What a pathetic concept... I spent my entire existence trying to defeat these gods — these so-called divine beings who toss mortals and demons alike into endless war for their amusement. I was the one who dared to devour their power, to rebel against their false order."
"And when I finally learned the truth... that the gods themselves seek the end of all creation — and that I, too, was just a piece in their twisted game — I raised my army and marched to war."
"But in the end... nothing changed. I failed. I was too weak."
"Why...? Why am I so powerless?"
"If... If only I had another chance... I would drag all five of them from their heavens... and crush them upon this very earth."
But instead of the void, he awoke.
His eyes opened not to death, but to a place beyond understanding — a vast cosmic realm, surrounded by galaxies, stars, and flowing celestial light. He floated, formless, drifting through this endless universe.
"Where... am I? Am I dead?"
Then, a voice.
A deep, resounding voice that echoed not through the air, but inside his very soul.
"Zerath Kael'thar..."
His eyes widened. He turned, searching — and before him appeared an enormous eye, divine and ancient, surrounded by blinding light that radiated purity and judgment.
He gasped, stunned. "Who are you?! What do you mean by this?!"
The eye did not respond.
Instead, a blazing portal of light opened before him. The voice spoke once more:
"I grant you... one more chance."
The Demon Lord reached out as light consumed him.
The scene shifted.
A new place. A luxurious estate, bathed in early sunlight. Marble halls, velvet curtains, and a towering crest upon the walls — House Valemorth, a name synonymous with nobility and ancient power.
Within a grand chamber, a young boy suddenly gasped awake in bed.
His eyes opened — crimson and sharp. But they did not belong to a child.
"Where... am I?" he wondered, looking at his small, unfamiliar hands. "Is this... a noble household?"
A shriek interrupted his thoughts. A maid stood at the doorway, trembling with shock.
"Y-Young Master Kaelen! Y-You're awake!"
Without another word, she bolted down the corridor to inform the head of the house — the boy's father — that their son had miraculously recovered.
Left alone, the boy smirked.
Zerath Kael'thar — the Demon God, the Rebel, the Slayer of Heavens — had returned, reborn in the body of a 10-year-old noble heir named Kaelen Valemorth.
He stood slowly, shadows forming beneath his feet, and whispered with a cold grin:
"Five Heavenly Gods... I have returned."