Chapter 1: The Demon Born of Death
It was a typical day in Earth.
The sky was gray. His backpack was heavy. And his mind was full of questions with no answers—what would he do after college? What kind of job could he live with? Would life ever feel like it mattered?
He was standing at the college gates, watching students stream past him. That's when he heard the screeching tires.
He turned his head and saw a Truck
His body froze. Then everything went white.
He woke up in a void.
An endless and glowing whiteness stretched in all directions, soundless except for the faint hum of nothingness.
A small, white cat sat in front of him, tail flicking lazily. Its golden eyes gleamed with strange amusement.
"You died," the cat said, voice smooth and strangely warm.
He blinked. "I… what?"
"Truck. Hit you. Instant death. You humans really need to look both ways." the cat said
The absurdity of it all left him speechless.
The cat stood and stretched. "But! Good news bud. You've earned a rare chance. You get to choose."
"Choose…?"
"The Afterlife, to forever be tormented... or ... reincarnation in a fictional world."
There was no contest. He chose reincarnation.
The cat flicked it's wrist
A wheel with names appeared, whirling through titles of manga, games, and anime.
As the wheel spinned going through worlds Attack on Titan, Elden Ring, Boku no Pico, Berserk, Minecraft, Masterpiece, Konosuba...
His heart thumped when the wheel slowed… and landed on
"Welcome to Demon School! Iruma-kun"
The cat purred. "Nice pull. Now you have one wish before you go. Use it wisely."
"Just one?"
"Yeah, just one." the cat said with a bored tone
He thought, if he was going to the world of Iruma-kun then he might as well be...
"I want to be a demon. One with a good background not a prince, not a peasant. Just enough to be safe and respected."
"Fair enough," said the cat. "Last choice start as a baby or seal your memories until you're five?"
He chose the latter he would rather not live through being a baby.
"Well, goodbye." the cat said.
As light swallowed him whole and disappeared.
"Lets give him some light benefits shall we." the cat said in a cheeky tone.
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Five Years Later in the Demon World
His eyes opened to a cold, marbled ceiling.
Thoughts flooded his mind of who he was, who he had been, and who he had become.
He sat up and looked around the room.
A grand bedroom surrounded him tall stained glass windows, silk drapes, gold chandeliers. Carved stone walls covered in ancient crests and bookshelves.
He wasn't just anyone.
He was Azazel now, the son of a long-deceased noble demoness and the mysterious missing Demon King. Though no one spoke the latter aloud, Sullivan one of the Thirteen Crowns visited occasionally and confirmed the truth in whispers.
But the world wasn't ready to know.
So he lived quietly in a grand castle nestled between the woods and a peaceful demon village. Near enough to be part of society, far enough to be left alone.
Each day began before the sun rose.
His butlers Gorun and Thorn, both towering wolf demons dragged him out of bed and straight into training. No complaints allowed if he wanted to be strong.
After all he was also the one who requested it.
"Your enemies won't care if you're tired," Gorun growled.
Punches, footwork, sword forms, reaction drills. By age seven, he could disarm adult demons twice his size.
After breakfast, he was handed off to his maids.
Maria, a playful succubus with sharp eyes and sharper sarcasm, taught him magical theory. "Wanna learn illusions or do you want to blow something up today?" she'd tease.
Sherry, the reserved bird demon, handled mana control and elemental spells. Her patience was endless. "Again," she'd whisper, each time he lost focus. "Let the magic flow."
Afternoons were for solo study. History of the demon world. Glyph-reading. Rank structure. Politics(i hate politics). Strategy games. His human memories helped a lot, he picked up theory fast, faster than even his caretakers expected.
Evenings were spent meditating and refining his gravity and lightning powers.
Gravity came first slow and subtle. He learned to compress air, bend pebbles, and eventually twist space around his hands. Then came lightning wild, fast, untamable. But with practice, he shaped it. Let it arc between his fingertips like a dancer. He shocked himself literally a dozen times. And smiled through the burns.
He healed. Grew stronger. Quietly.
By age ten, he had reached Rank 6 (Vau). By thirteen, Rank 8 (Chet).
But no one outside his home knew.
Ix Elizabetta
He first saw her when he was six.
She was sitting under a flowering tree at the edge of the estate, humming a tune and biting into a honeyfruit. Her long blonde hair flowed down her back, her eyes distant.
He didn't say a word. Just watched.
The next day, she was there again. This time, she caught him staring.
"You live here?" she asked with a tilt of her head.
He nodded.
"You're quiet. I like quiet." She smiled, stood, and left.
That became routine for them.
Every few days, she'd return. Sometimes with sweets. Sometimes just stories. About her family. Her older sisters. Her dream of opening a boutique.
Azazel didn't speak much, but he listened.
Eventually, he opened up. Told her about stars. About how gravity shaped the cosmos. About how lightning was the voice of the sky.
She didn't always understand, but she always listened.
They started sparring playfully at first, then more seriously. She was nimble, and clever, and laughed even when she lost.
By age ten, they were inseparable.
A Quiet Bond Connected Them
He never needed to say it. She already knew.
There were no love declarations. No dramatic gestures.
Just the quiet way he always walked her home.
The way she always brought him a second lunch, knowing he hated meat pies.
The way he always saved the last bite of his favorite cake, just in case she stopped by.
They were close. Closer than anyone else in their lives.
Not loud. Not romantic.
Just... real.
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One evening, Sullivan visited the estate alone.
He looked older than usual. Sadder.
"The world is stirring," he told Azazel, handing him a black envelope marked with the Babyls seal. "You'll attend school soon. But you must hide who you are. No one must know your power… not yet."
Azazel nodded.
And thus, the boy who trained in the shadows, who laughed quietly with a pink-haired girl beneath blooming trees, who held the blood of a missing king…
Began his new chapter.
Not as a prince.
Not as a threat.
But as a Misfit.