I crawled to my feet, my body powerful, wild, full of natural rage, ready to explode. But my mind was still conscious. I was still me.
In the distance, footsteps could be heard—lesser creatures were approaching, drawn by the aura of the awakening. They crept out of the shadows: small, thin, fanged, and ravenous demons.
They stopped when they saw me.
Then, one by one, they knelt.
"My Lord, you have finally awakened from your slumber."
His voice was deep, hoarse, yet filled with a reverence almost like worship. I turned—my new body's reflexes were swift but even.
Before me stood ten creatures. Tall, muscular, their skin varied from blood red to charcoal gray to deep purple. But one striking similarity between them: horns. Just like mine. Curved. Sharp.
Brimming with a primal aura.
They all knelt, one foot touching the cracked black ground, their heads bowed in a reverence that… strangely made my body feel acknowledged.
I frowned. "Who are you?"
The creature in the front row looked up. A demonic face—but his eyes… were full of eagerness, as if they had been waiting for this moment for a thousand years.
"I am Zareth, general of your guard. Two-horned, true blood of the Bael clan. I guard your body during your long slumber."
Then, one by one, they introduced themselves.
"I am Malrik, purifier of blood. I guard the hellfire so that your flame of life will not be extinguished."
"I am Vesha, keeper of knowledge. Your ancient books are still intact, My Lord."
"I am Grall, the slayer. My blade thirsts for your command."
"I am Nysha… your servant." She spoke softly, but there was something cold and deadly in her gaze.
"I am Dren, guardian of the left."
"I am Othar, guardian of the right."
"I am Krez, the taster. I smell the fear of your enemies."
"I am Thuvra, ensnare of souls."
"And I… Rekh'Naar. The first. I awoke you when the heavens began to crack and the blood of traitors flooded the hellish lands."
I just stood there, silent.
They looked at me like I was… a king. Or a god. Or a curse they'd been waiting a long time to awaken.
"What does this all mean…?" I asked in a deep voice.
Zareth answered without hesitation.
"The world has forgotten you, My Lord. But we have not. You are the fallen Demon King… and now rise again."
"The Demon King…?" I murmured, my clawed hands clenching into fists.
"Didn't I… kill him?" I looked down at my palms. This wasn't the body of the Demon King I had personally cut down—the one I had ended with my comrades.
This body… was different. But its aura… felt far more terrifying.
"Zareth…" I said, looking at one of them, "The Demon King? Wasn't he slain by Hero Neil and his comrades?"
Zareth, a horned creature with a chest covered in battle scars, smiled faintly, then slowly rose to his feet.
"Indeed. One of the Demon Kings has indeed been slain."
I strained my ears.
"One of them?"
Zareth stared at me intently, his eyes like glowing red embers, filled with mystery.
"The world you once knew, the world of mortals, only touches the surface of reality, My Lord. They speak of 'Demon Kings' as if there were only one. But the truth is much deeper."
He walked toward the cave wall and waved his hand. A blood-red light formed a projection in the air—a circular world composed of several layers.
"This world, called Arkorath by the demon ancestors, consists of the Three Layers of Hell and the Five World Realms. Each layer has its ruler, and each ruler is called a Demon King."
He pointed to a single fiery red dot. "The one you killed only ruled the First Layer. His name was Vargan, a wild and brutal demon. But he was only one of the Seven Demon Kings."
The atmosphere suddenly froze. Even the flames surrounding the room seemed to dim.
"Seven," I whispered.
Zareth nodded slowly. "And you, My Lord, are the Eighth."
I stiffened.
"What do you mean?"
Zareth approached, kneeling before me again. His face was downcast, but his voice was clear.
"You are not a replacement. Not an incarnation. You are the only demon not born, but formed. A Demon King who did not emerge from hell, but from the death of a hero. This body may be new, but your soul, My Lord, a soul that has tasted death, betrayal, and destruction—that soul is what makes you worthy."
"I don't understand."
Zareth looked at me with deep respect, but also with horror.
"You are the only Demon King born of a human."
I fell silent.
My heart—or whatever organ in this demon's body—was pounding.
My head was boiling with unanswered questions.
I never told you who I was. I never once mentioned Neil's name, let alone said that I was the Hero who slew the Demon King of the past.
But… Zareth knew. They all knew.
My aura surged.
The air in the cave suddenly vibrated, as if responding to the anger that was beginning to well up within me. The fire from the fissures in the ground flared higher. The ground cracked. The stone walls creaked softly, resisting the pressure of the uncontrollable power that was beginning to pour out.
They remained kneeling. But one or two of them began to look up—wary. Nysha, the soft-spoken she-demon, now bit her lower lip. Malrik tightened his grip on the black axe on his back.
I stepped forward, slowly, my voice heavy with emotion.
"…I never told you who I am."
Zareth didn't move. But his eyes were now more intense. More cautious.
"How did you know I was Neil…?"
There was silence. A long moment.
Then, Zareth slowly stood—with a gesture of respect, but not fear.
"Because I saw you… even before you died."
I narrowed my eyes. My breath quickened.
"Impossible…"
Zareth nodded. "We—the followers of the Third Layer—monitor the human world. Especially you, Neil. The hero who brought destruction to the Demon King Vargan."
"Why…? Why monitor me?"
"Because from the first time you killed… we saw the cracks in your soul. You didn't just kill demons, Neil. You enjoyed it. You thirsted for blood… more than any of your comrades."
I paused.
"You slaughtered Vargan's army not out of duty… but out of rage. You were a hero who harbored demons within himself."
Zareth's hand clenched against his chest, as if conveying divine truth.
"And when your body died… that fractured soul was lost between dimensions. We retrieved it. We forged new flesh from immortal blood and gave you this body. Not out of pity, but out of destiny."
"You weren't reincarnated…
You were sucked back to the home where your soul originated."
I gritted my teeth. My breathing grew heavier.
"So… from the beginning, I was… a demon…?"
Zareth lowered his head again, his voice low but steady.
"No.You are something… worse."
Hearing that explanation… somehow, I accepted it.
Maybe I was too tired of denying it.
Or maybe… this was my true form, hidden behind the title of "hero."
If I were truly born a demon…
Then I would enjoy every second of it.
And if the human world chose to betray me—
Then I would burn them all alive.
I was no longer the hero, Neil.
I was something worse.
Something beyond redemption… and forgiveness.
Zareth lowered his head, his voice calm again but filled with an unconcealable fanatical enthusiasm.
"My Lord, we are now within the ruins of Valgrath's temple, the bowels of the Third Layer of Hell. A place where the new Demon King is resurrected in a mortal body forged from rage and betrayal."
He snapped his fingers.
The stonework on the side of the wall crumbled open—and from within the dark passage, two massive demons dragged a human.
Limping, bound, and bleeding. His body trembled, his breath hitched, and his mouth was covered.
Zareth smiled faintly.
"Your first sacrifice, My Lord. A mortal from the holy temple who once called your name light. Now, he comes not as a worshipper but as a sacrifice."
I walked slowly toward him. Ten pairs of demonic eyes watched with bated breath.
The mortal struggled. His eyes widened when he saw me. I didn't know if he recognized my past face or if he saw something that shouldn't be alive.
My hand reached out.
My touch blistered his skin. Blood flowed profusely from the wounds as my sharp nails touched his chest. I pressed gently, then clawed down, opening his flesh like paper.
He screamed, but I wasn't satisfied.
I sliced open a finger. Slowly, pulling the vein out inch by inch, until his body convulsed violently with pain.
"This is just the beginning," I whispered in his ear, my breath warm like steam from a fiery abyss.
Zareth approached. "My Lord, the blood is ready. You only need to say one word to seal this sacrifice."
I stared at the human.
His eyes were now pleading.
But my heart no longer recognized mercy.
I opened my mouth.
And just as I was about to speak—
DUNGGG!
The cave shook violently.
The symbols on the ground glowed a blinding red. Hellfire shot to the ceiling.
Zareth turned sharply. "No! Who dares?!"
Suddenly…
A white light pierced the stone ceiling.
A holy light, not of this world, pierced through the ruins of the temple, striking the demons' bodies, sending them flying backward.
I squinted. Amidst the light, a robed figure appeared.
Someone from my past.