He arose in an age so distant that even time itself had not yet learned to flow.
Before the world was formed—before land, sky, or life—Veldanava, the Creator God, shaped the Seven Seraphim from the Great Spirit of Light. And where light was born, shadow followed. From the Great Spirit of Darkness emerged seven beings as well.
They were the Seven Primordials—devil lords of pure concept.
He was the first among them.
The king of the underworld.
The absolute embodiment of darkness.
From the moment of his birth, his power was unquestioned. He ruled demons as easily as
breathing, an arrogant monarch whose will alone defined law. Even the other primordials—his own brothers and sisters of darkness—were, to him, no different from lesser dependents.
Once, two primordials joined forces and dared to challenge him.
They were crushed without effort.
To him, it was nothing more than child's play. Yet that battle revealed an important truth: Primordials were immortal. Even if destroyed, they would resurrect—subjugated to the victor, their very essence rewritten in obedience.
As mental lifeforms, defeat meant domination.
The remaining primordials understood this immediately.
And so, a stalemate followed.
No—there was one exception.
One primordial continued to trouble him. But that nuisance vanished the moment it was summoned to the material world. Whether that summoning was coincidence or fate no longer mattered.
What mattered was that everything changed.
When he opened his eyes, he understood instantly: he had been summoned.
The underworld had no concept of time. To him, the world before his eyes felt newborn—yet civilization had already flourished. Cities stood. Races thrived. History had already been written.
Magic.
A force that rewrote the laws of reality.
This was not a spiritual realm, but a semi-material world, where magicules were scarce and existence itself drained energy. Cut off from the Creator God, his power was reduced to that of a newborn archdemon.
Inconvenient—but sufficient.
He had no body. Yet even so, nothing here could threaten him.
What did irritate him was the screaming man before him.
A wizard.
Arrogant.
Reckless.
No one in the underworld would have dared
speak to him in such a tone. That alone intrigued him enough to listen.
The man spoke in the magic language, the first language of existence. Understanding it required no effort.
The wizard boasted of nations, of races—elves, dwarves, beastmen, vampires, humans—locked in endless conflict. He spoke of ambition, supremacy, and unification.
"You are my servant," the wizard declared.
"Destroy the warring nations. Unite the world for the Super Magic Empire."
Absurd.
But amusing.
So he obeyed.
One spell was all it took.
Death Streak—forbidden nuclear magic that annihilated even the soul.
A nation of over a million vanished in an instant, reduced to a city of death. To him, it was nothing more than an experiment.
Then he noticed something new.
The souls he had reaped were changing him.
Awakening.
With the harvest of countless lives, he incarnated—using a million corpses to form a vessel. The pleasant heaviness of drowsiness filled him, and he savored the sensation.
This was the birth of the world's first True Demon Lord.
When he realized the summoning spell had shattered on its own, he laughed. He could have broken it at any time—but it was amusing that it failed without his intervention.
At around ten thousand souls, his race restriction lifted. He became a Demon Peer.
Still less than ten percent of his true power—but enough to stand unrivaled.
Curiosity took him.
What would happen if he gathered more?
So he returned.
One by one, he slaughtered the city that had dared command him. No mass spells—he wanted the screams. He wanted them etched into his soul.
"Giiyaaa!!"
The sound lingered.
That, he thought, is a good name.
And so—
Guy Crimson was born.
With a name came evolution.
He became a Devil Lord, regaining the full power he once wielded in the underworld. His vessel overflowed. His magicules returned in full.
There was nothing left to gain.
So he grew bored.
Guy summoned two primordials who followed him and gave a single order:
"Erase the Super Magic Empire."
He was generous now. The wizard who had summoned him no longer even existed in his memory.
The empire—greatest in human history—vanished that day.
But something was wrong.
The two primordials, reduced to archdemons by this world's laws, would not evolve no matter how many souls they collected.
Annoyed, Guy incarnated them himself.
The Green Primordial (Vert) and Blue Primordial (Bleu)—both manifesting as beautiful women.
Still too weak.
So Guy named them.
"I will not tolerate weakness beneath me."
From grief's cries came Mizeri.
From the rain that fell that day came Raine.
They evolved into Demon Peers, just as he expected.
And thus, their legend began.
The years that followed were filled with wandering.
Guy traveled freely, amused by the world's chaos. Mizeri and Raine remained by his side, devoted beyond question.
"You may live as you wish," Guy told them.
Their answer never changed.
"No. We exist to serve you."
"You are the king. We are your subjects."
They built influence in secret, gathering wealth and pleasures to satisfy their lord.
And Guy discovered something unexpected.
This world was fun.
Cooking. Music. Art. Dance. Festivals.
"Isn't this enjoyable?" Guy asked once, smiling during a village celebration.
Mizeri and Raine were overwhelmed by the sight.
"Humans are useful after all," Mizeri said.
"All things exist for Guy-sama," Raine replied.
Their worldview changed.
In the underworld, weakness meant extinction. Here, even the weak had value.
Destroying this world would be a waste, Guy realized.
He became humanity's hidden protector—slaying magic beasts, erasing rogue sorcerers, becoming myth and legend.
And then—
He met Veldanava.
The Star King Dragon.
The Creator God.
Guy sensed him instantly.
"If you're a real god," Guy laughed, "then show me."
The battle lasted one exchange.
Guy was crushed.
His pride shattered completely.
By the law of defeat, he should have become a servant.
"Kill me," Guy said calmly. "I am satisfied."
Veldanava laughed.
"I love the beings I created. You challenged me. That alone pleases me."
They spoke.
Of the world's growth.
Of humanity's flaws.
Of inevitable ruin.
"I need you," Veldanava said. "Help me keep the world from collapsing."
Guy understood.
Pride—unchecked—had once destroyed the Super Magic Empire.
"Then I'll reign as a demon lord," Guy declared.
"If humans fear an absolute enemy, they won't destroy themselves."
And so, his heart took form.
He gained the Unique Skill Pride.
"As Demon Lord," Guy swore, "I will judge mankind when they grow arrogant."
Veldanava laughed warmly.
Thus, Guy Crimson and Veldanava became equals.
Friends.
Bound not by servitude—
but by will.
As promised, Guy lived on as a Demon Lord.
Boredom, however, was his constant enemy.
To pass the time, Guy began watching over the large settlements that slowly appeared across the land. What began as scattered camps turned into villages. Villages gathered into towns, and towns eventually grew into nations. Compared to the super-civilization that had once ruled the world, this era was crude and inefficient—but it was not stagnant. Magic and technology that had once been lost were quietly rediscovered, refined, and reborn. Progress was slow, but steady.
Humans were fascinating.
Before long, borders formed. Conflicts followed. Small wars erupted like sparks in dry grass.
Guy considered whether he should intervene.
Then he decided not to think about it at all.
He simply acted.
Any nation that caught his eye—any state that grew too proud or too loud—was erased without warning. The message was clear and terrifying:
The Demon Lord exists.
Fear spread. And fear did what it always did best—it united people.
That's fine, Guy thought.
As long as you don't bore me, I won't destroy you.
As a mediator, he was satisfied.
While Guy wandered the world, Mizeri and Raine worked relentlessly. With their followers, they crushed local gods, demons, and majins, expanding their influence piece by piece. Mizeri infiltrated human societies, gathering information, identifying threats, and quietly marking those who needed to disappear.
The goal was simple:
Maintain fear. Maintain balance.
Thus, the Demon Lord system was born—not as a single being, but as a force woven into the world itself.
Guy, meanwhile, enjoyed battle wherever he found it.
Even Veldanava's own followers struggled to restrain the giants. The clash against Ivarage, the World-Destroying Dragon, was especially thrilling. The beast's instincts were savage, its power overwhelming—and Guy loved every second of it.
Still, there were consequences.
The battle lasted three months.
Ivarage eventually escaped into the other world, and the land Guy had fought upon was reduced to a wasteland as far as the eye could see.
Guy learned an important lesson.
Next time I get serious, I need to think about where I'm fighting.
Hovering high above the continent, Guy noticed something familiar.
A castle.
It was the Imperial Castle of the Super Magic Empire—the very place where he had first been summoned to this world. Whether it was coincidence or fate no longer mattered.
Guy decided.
This will be my home.
Raine immediately mobilized her forces. With magic, the ruined castle was restored almost instantly, transformed into a livable fortress.
That was when she appeared.
A white dragon descended from the heavens, her scales gleaming like frost, her eyes blue as cut diamonds.
Her opening words were hostile.
"My brother may approve of you," she said coldly,
"but I don't."
And then she attacked.
Guy had learned from past mistakes. He understood the importance of choosing battles carefully—but there was no avoiding this one.
The dragon unleashed a blizzard of ice and snow, engulfing the castle. Evacuation had already been completed, and the structure could be rebuilt. Raine and her subordinates would suffer, but that didn't concern Guy.
What mattered was this:
He was frustrated.
Ivarage had escaped. His boredom was unbearable. And now, a powerful opponent had appeared.
So Guy fought seriously.
Yet no matter what he tried, the battle would not end.
The dragon was Velzard, the Frost Dragon—elder sister of the True Dragons, sibling to Veldanava, and second only to him in sheer magicule quantity.
Even Guy could not defeat her.
But from Velzard's perspective, Guy was the anomaly.
"You only possess a Unique Skill," she snapped.
"I was granted the Ultimate Skill Patience King Gabriel by my brother. This should not be a draw!"
Guy laughed.
"That's because I'm strong."
"Don't mock me!" Velzard shouted.
"My brother gave me this power because I'm useful! That proves I'm superior to you!"
Guy shrugged.
"He offered me his power too. I refused it."
Velzard froze.
"I didn't want to be his servant," Guy continued calmly.
"I wanted to stand beside him. As an equal."
The truth struck her like ice cracking under pressure.
And in that moment—fighting Velzard, witnessing the nature of an Ultimate Skill firsthand—Guy understood.
This is the next stage.
"I'll reach the ultimate level," Guy declared,
"by my own strength."
And then—
The Unique Skill Pride evolved.
It became the Ultimate Skill
Pride King Lucifer.
Velzard fell silent.
After a long pause, she laughed softly.
"…Now I see why my brother likes you so much. Fine. I'll watch you. Let's see how far you go."
That was how Guy and Velzard met.
Their battle lasted three days and three nights.
The planet's axis shifted.
But this time, Guy was careful.
The permafrost transformed into a land of eternal spring. In exchange, the continent Guy chose as his domain froze into an uninhabitable wasteland.
"Well," Guy said casually, "that works."
"It's beautiful, Guy-sama!" Mizeri exclaimed.
"The damage to humanity was limited," Raine added.
"They united to recover from the disaster."
For humans, it was a catastrophe.
For Guy, it was amusing.
Velzard's leaking draconic aura froze the surroundings, turning the castle into an impregnable fortress. When Guy suggested her dragon form was inconvenient, she transformed into a human.
Rather than fully sealing her aura, she allowed a controlled chill to persist—perfect defense.
"How about this?" Velzard asked smugly.
"It's fine," Guy replied. "Not my style."
"You're so rude!"
She complained—but deep down, she liked him.
Centuries passed.
Then one day, something unusual happened.
Three figures crossed the frozen wasteland with ease.
Guy watched them with interest.
A blond, blue-eyed young man stepped forward and shouted:
"I am Rudra Nasca, crown prince of Nasca and hero of the people! Demon Lord, I will defeat you—and take all your treasures!"
It was bold. Crude. Greedy.
Guy loved it.
Behind Rudra, his companions scolded him openly.
"You don't sound like a hero at all."
"Brother, you're blinded by greed."
"This is why you'll fail someday."
Guy noted it immediately.
They had defeated Mizeri and Raine.
And one of them carried a presence eerily similar to his old friend.
Interesting.
And that word…
Hero.
It sounded sweet.
Guy smiled.
"Alright," he said.
"Let's see what you can do, 'Hero.'"
And so, Guy accepted Rudra's challenge.
The battle that followed was chaotic, loud, ridiculous—and unforgettable.
Armor shattered. Pride bruised. Names argued over mid-fight.
And when Rudra, in his recklessness, named him—
Guy Crimson—
the bond was sealed.
Rudra collapsed instantly, nearly dying from the backlash.
And thus—
From rivalry,
From pride,
From sheer absurdity—
A strange fate was born.
The eternal rivalry of Guy Crimson and Rudra Nasca had begun.