The sunlight burned against my skin, hot and merciless.
When my eyes opened, the first thing I felt was the bite of iron around my wrists and ankles. Chains. My arms and legs were raw with scratches, welts, and cuts—each one a souvenir from fists, whips, and blades.
The air trembled with voices. Screams. My name spat out like venom.
"Die!"
"Disappear!"
It was strange—how clear I could remember the life I had before this moment. I had always followed the rules. Always offered kindness when others were in need. I gave more than I ever kept for myself. I believed that if I stayed true, the world would return the same.
But the world had other plans.
My comrades—people I had fought and bled beside—had accused me of betraying them, of slaughtering thousands. My parents turned their backs. The nation I had protected from monsters and demons labeled me a curse. And worst of all… my lover chose the hero over me.
My chest ached—not from the wounds, but from the betrayal.
Footsteps echoed through the square. Heavy. Purposeful.
From the crowd emerged a man clad in golden armor, a gleaming sword in his hand. His face was carved from righteousness, but I knew the rot behind his smile.
He raised his voice so all could hear.
"Today, we avenge our fallen! This demon will pay for his crimes!"
Demon.
That's what they called me—because I could resurrect the dead.
A man from the crowd shouted, his voice raw with grief. "You killed my son!"
A woman screamed, "Because of you, my daughter is gone!"
Rocks, rotten fruit, and vegetables pelted my body. I didn't flinch.
The golden knight's voice thundered again. "I, Shinro Akagage, will now begin the execution."
He pointed his sword at me, his eyes burning with false justice.
"Julian Kazuki. Any last words?"
I shook my head. My lips stayed shut, but in the depths of my mind, my voice roared.
If there is a next life… if I am reborn… I swear I will destroy this nation. Every last one of you who wronged me will beg for death. And you, Shinro Akagage, will suffer until you regret breathing.
The blade came down. I closed my eyes.
Warm blood spilled from my neck and painted the dirt.
The crowd erupted in cheers.
Julian Kazuki was dead.
---
When I opened my eyes again, everything was silent.
I blinked. My body felt… light. My chains were gone. I wasn't lying on the execution platform—I was on a soft bed. My bed. My room.
I sat up slowly, scanning the familiar wooden walls and furniture. Then I froze.
The mirror across the room reflected a boy's face. My face—but smaller.
I stumbled toward it, staring at the reflection of a seven-year-old child. My hands were tiny, my skin smooth. I pinched my cheek hard. It hurt.
This wasn't a dream.
Memories of my death crashed into me like a storm. That blade. That betrayal. That cheering crowd.
It was real.
Which meant… I had been given a second chance.
I clenched my small fists, and a dark smile curled my lips.
From this day forward, I would live for myself alone. Mercy? I buried it with my old body. The people who once pleaded for their lives would find none from me. I would kill without hesitation. I would turn this nation into my puppet, bend it under my influence, and grind its people into dust.
And Shinro Akagage—the so-called hero—would die by my hands.
My former comrades would fall with him.
I laughed, low and cold.
"Heh… hahahahaha… you'll all suffer worse than hell itself."