While Arin was bedridden in the clinic, something deep was happening in is subconscious state.
A sudden Darkness.
And then, memories—shattered, scattered like dying embers—flickered to life behind Arin's closed eyes.
He was no longer Arin.
Not yet.
He was Minho Lee, a student in a university on Earth. Kidnapped to a different world by divine light. Misled by the voice of a goddess—Aria, the self-styled Goddess of Light—who implored him to save her world.
He has responded.
He had complied.
He killed the Demon Lord of that time and brought peace to the Empire.
And what was his reward?
The empire turned on him.
The person that he fought for where now against him.
The same nobles that knelt before him earlier now trembled in fear of his power. The same goddess that earlier revered him as brave now called him a threat to world balance. Only because he had become strong, stronger than the goddess could imagine, so strong that they could not control him.
He remembered their betrayal. The poison in the cup. The ambush in the imperial gardens. The flash of the Empress's sword as it plunged into the heart of the woman he loved. His daughter's scream. His son's silence.
He had lost it all.
No, they had taken it all.
And within that moment of emptiness—he remembered now, the whirlwind of power that burst forth from the remains of his broken soul. Recalled hate, recalled vengeance. How he was reborn in the ashes not as Minho Lee, not as a hero, but as a demon. As Zarel—the Demon Lord who governed in fury and in justice.
Arin's face was streaked in tears when he woke up suddenly, eyes brimming with sadness and rage.
He was no longer in the emptiness.
He was in a bed.
A room that was darkened, the smell of medicine still prevalent.
He blinked.
"Arin... Arin!" a voice called out familiarly.
It was his mother. Pale face and red eyes due to the continuous crying as she clutched their hands tightly. Clark sat beside her, his face bowed in shame. Titus stood behind the two of them, arms folded, his usual cheer nowhere to be found.
And then came Marcos—his father—rushing through the door. His fists clenched, his eyes bloodshot. The man who had always been composed now looked one breath away from violence.
"Arin, you alright?" Marcos asked, crouching beside the bed.
Arin attempted to speak. However, due to his injuries he managed to do no more than nod weakly.
His body hurt. Every part of it. His face, ribs, and back. His pain was genuine and searing, yanking him sharply back to the present. But that was nothing, nothing whatsoever, to the pain that rushed in from the buried past.
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, son," Marcos stuttered in a trembling tone. "We should have never left you alone."
Clark moved forward, falling to his knees, tears in eyes, "It's my fault. I wasn't watching him—I let that noble son of a—!"
"Don't," growled Arin, his throat dry. "It wasn't your fault, Uncle Clark."
The atmosphere was sad and emotionally intense, tears was fervent. Everyone where happy he had regain consciousness after 2 days but all where not able to hold back their tears.
However, this evening had opened wounds Arin had tried forgetting while he was Zarel, emotions of why he hated the empire, emotions of why he hated the goddess.
There was a fire burning deep within him. Lying there was not an average boy. He was not only no longer Arin.
He was something more.
Something dangerous.
***********************************************
Later that day, the truth came out.
The noble who attacked Arin was Elden Arvon—the arrogant, twisted son of Viscount Reigel Arvon, one of Calonia's most powerful landowners. Word had already spread, yet the city guards had done nothing.
When Marcos went to the Golden Eagles to publicize the incident to the knights in charge of keeping nobility in line so that the knights would not overstep their role, he was approached by an officer and received a cold glare.
"Report a noble?" the officer muttered under his breath. You'll sign your own death warrant. Be gone, farmer. Take the boy and get back to your village... This never happened."
Marcos clenched his fists so hard that the knuckles became white.
We won't forget this," he snarled through clenched teeth.
The officer didn't even blink. "Good. You'll understand why your family remains alive."
Titus stepped between them, tugging at Marcos's arm. "Marcos, don't. It isn't worth it. Arin's alive. That's all that matters now."
Marcos headed off in silence, but a difference was there in their eyes.
Something permanent.
***********************************************
That night, the air was cold. The clinic in the village was deserted. There was only the sound of the crickets and the rustle of the trees in the darkness.
Arin was awake and staring up at the cracked ceiling. His ribs still ached, his body throbbing. But his mind?
His thoughts were ablaze.
He got out of bed without disturbing his mother, who was sleeping in the chair beside him at the bedside. He put his bare feet on the wooden floorboards, opened the window to the outside, and went out into the yard.
The moon was full and low on the hills, sending long shadows.
He stood beneath its light, exhaling a mist into the darkness.
His hands shook.
So small… so soft. This body—this weak shell...
He clenched his fists.
But inside… it's still me. Minho Lee. Zarel.
Suddenly, without warning, a red panel materialized in front of his eyes.
> [SYSTEM BOOTING...]
[DEMON LORD SYSTEM DETECTED]
[SYNCING: 90% COMPLETE]
Arin blinked as the light off the panel reflected off the circular eyes.
"What's this? Am I dreaming.? Some form of illusion magic?"
The panel briefly flickered and disappeared.
Arin stepped back, shaking his head. No. it must have been exhaustion. Perhaps due to the damage taken to head.
And even as he reminded himself that, he sensed it—deep down in the very bones of him—something different, but didn't think too deep on it, as he turned back and made his way back to the clinic bed.
***********************************************
Three days passed and finally Arin was doing better than before, not perfect, but better. The family prepared to leave Calonia and return to their quiet countryside.
Marcos loaded the wagon to capacity with provisions. Clark stayed behind to guard the horses. Arin was blanketed and wrapped in bandages and sat in the back beside Titus as the city gates receded into the distance.
He thought it was the end.
It was only a nightmare.
They traversed the last bridge that led out of the city—
> DING!
[SYNCING COMPLETE: 100%]
[DEMON LORD SYSTEM FULLY ACTIVATED]
[INITIAL TASK: SURVIVE FOR 30 MINUTES]
[REWARD: 0.1% OF PREVIOUS LIFE POWER]
[TIME REMAINING: 29:37 / 30:00]
Arin froze.
"What…?" he whispered aloud.
Titus turned. "Did you say something?"
But Arin didn't answer.
Because before his eyes, the red panel expanded, and the sky above twisted. The clouds rippled unnaturally. The horses neighed in panic.
And from the forest ahead—
Growls.
Dozens of them.
Blood-red eyes peered out from the shadows.
> [WARNING: Trial begins now.]
Arin stood slowly, trembling—but not in fear.
A slow, knowing smile crept across his lips.
Of course. nothing is ever simple.
To be continued...