"There is no glory in death. Only a past memory and a wasted opportunity."
The sky was covered by a dark mantle of clouds that seemed made of soot. A gloomy wind swept across the ruins of a battlefield, dragging ashes and dust among mountains of lifeless bodies.
The stench of blood, rusted metal, and burned flesh saturated the air. There, among hundreds of corpses—demons and humans alike—two colossal figures still stood.
One of them, the Hero of the Holy Sword, was a symbol of hope in a broken world. His name: Lance Vincent.
His short red hair burned like fire under the dim light of the sky.
His golden eyes shone like eternal suns, brimming with justice, faith, and determination. He wore a celestial white armor that radiated holy light, illuminating the desolation with an incorruptible glow. He was the light among shadows, the prophecy made flesh.
In front of him stood his opposite: Azrael Noctem Cael'Zar, the Demon King.
Azrael was not a mere ruler. He was the abyss dressed in sovereignty. His long white hair fell like a snowy veil over his infernal armor, black as the purest void. His purple eyes were deep, infinite, unfathomable. A living darkness pulsed within him, and the demonic energy surrounding him seemed to swallow the world itself.
He wielded the Abyssal Blade, a legendary sword that devoured light, hope, and sanity. His authority was uncontested in the Five Demon Realms, his mastery of magic, strategy, and martial arts made him almost omniscient in the universe.
And yet… he was about to die.
Azrael knew it. He felt it. That sharp premonition he had ignored for years… had finally reached him.
He underestimated the prophecy. He scorned the rumors. He ignored the poor child who had wielded the light.
And now he was facing the end.
"If you ignore a small threat for being seemingly harmless, one day you will find yourself cornered by that same threat… but grown giant."
—Azrael Noctem —said Lance Vincent, his voice echoing with force in the silence of desolation—. Your reign ends here. It is time to pay for everything. And with the power granted to me by the Goddess of Souls, Fortuna… you will die in this place!
The Demon King, still proud despite his wounds, laughed arrogantly.
—Do you think you'll achieve anything with that sword, human? I wiped out your army, I destroyed the other four Heroes of the prophecy. Only you remain… and your fate will be no different from theirs.
Lance gripped his sword. His golden eyes blazed.
—My companions may have died on this field… but thanks to the Goddess Fortuna, they will reincarnate in 9,000 years. They will return!
Azrael growled in fury.
—Not this time! I swear I will not allow it!
The air grew tense. The two warriors surged forward. The Holy Sword shone like a fallen star. The Abyssal Blade was wrapped in dark fire.
An impact shook the earth. The flash was so violent the heavens trembled.
And in the next instant… all was silent.
A blade pierced a torso. It was Lance's. And the body that received it was Azrael Noctem's.
The Demon King spat blood and dropped his sword. His eyes widened with bitter surprise.
—I told you… —murmured Lance, his voice breaking—. Your reign ends here, Azrael.
The King fell to his knees. He was breathing heavily.
—You only had luck… —he spat blood—. You're just a damned human decorated with borrowed lights. You are nothing without that Goddess of Souls.
—You caused catastrophes, brought pain, destruction… killed millions of innocent humans —Lance spoke with the strength of all the fallen—. You don't deserve the Goddess's compassion.
—And you speak of humans as if they were saints? —Azrael scoffed, laughing bitterly—. I have seen their true nature. Lies, cruelty, ambition… rot! Humans are no better than demons. They live with masks, hiding what they are. Hypocrites, all of them!
Lance lowered his gaze for a moment. Then his golden eyes rose again.
—You're right. We're not perfect. Not saints. But we learn. We love. We lose. We fall… and rise again. That is part of what it means to be human.
—You speak as if you know everything. Arrogant human…
—And don't you? —Lance replied—. You believed yourself untouchable. But even you… didn't know it all. And whether you admit it or not… there are similarities between you and me.
—What nonsense… —whispered Azrael with a fading voice—. You will die…
—Don't you think you're judging too much… knowing you already dropped your sword?
Azrael's body trembled. A dull rumble resounded inside him: the Holy Sword was corroding his vital core, devouring his existence from within.
—How I wish… this had ended differently —said Lance, with real sorrow.
He pulled his sword free, and the Demon King's body fell to the ground. Azrael, lying on his back, barely breathed. His dark blood stained the battlefield. His purple eyes slowly dimmed.
—Perhaps one day… humans and demons will coexist —said Lance, coughing blood—. If you reincarnate… maybe you too will see that future. Maybe… we will meet again.
Azrael, with his final breath, muttered:
—I don't understand your foolish proposal… But if I reincarnate… I swear I will have my revenge, on all of you. There will be no more humans… and next time, you will be the one to drop the sword.
Lance looked at the sky. The sun broke through the clouds.
—Don't you think?… the dawn belongs to everyone. And if that happens, I will be there to stop you. No matter in which life.
Azrael slowly closed his eyes. His consciousness faded.
And in his final thoughts, a sarcastic voice resounded:
"What nonsense… The dawn belongs to everyone? What did that have to do with the conversation? That hero is not as smart as he thinks."
Darkness. A place without form or time.
A small light floated adrift: the soul of the Demon King.
—Where… am I?
A voice answered, deep and mocking.
—Well, well, the great Azrael Noctem, reduced to a shiny little ball. What a change.
—The Hero of the Holy Sword is too good for this rotten world to deserve. He didn't kill you completely, and look at you now, your soul wandering through the void, not even erased from existence.
—Who's there? Who are you?
—Does it matter? Call me your conscience… boo!
—Ghost jokes? —Azrael growled—. What a pathetic entrance.
—Oh, what a party pooper. Doesn't matter. What matters is that you're here. And I came to offer you something. If you think I came just to mock you, you're wrong if you think I care about letting you lose.
—Mockery? Condescension?
—No. A second chance. Reincarnation, that's what I came to give you.
—Second chance, why should I care?
—Because you're talking to me. That means Lance Vincent let you live. He could have destroyed your soul forever. But he didn't.
—So what? I didn't ask him for that —answered the Demon King bitterly.
—Sometimes gifts are given without being asked… especially by a friend.
—That filthy human is not my friend! —shouted the glowing ball of a soul.
—If you say so, mister no-friends —the sarcastic voice replied.
—Ha! Don't make me laugh. What good is reincarnation without my power? Will I be a weak demon? A larva? A worm?
—Could be. But I'm not interested in punishing you. I just want to give you another life. Do with it whatever you want.
—And what do you gain from this?
—Don't you get it yet? —the voice sighed—. I don't need to gain anything. I only came to put you back in the game. The rest… is up to you.
—Wait… are you the Goddess of Souls?
—The Goddess? Don't you hear my voice? I don't have the grace to be her. I sound male, not heavenly female. And besides, I have a great sense of humor.
—More like you're a clown —Azrael Noctem Cael'Zar replied.
—You act mysterious. That doesn't make you interesting.
—I don't need to be. Time's up. I must leave now. Your new life awaits. Still, it was a pleasure seeing you again.
—Wait! Before you send me… what did you mean by "seeing you again"?
The voice laughed, distant.
—You should know. You're the Demon King, well, you were. Either way, it was a pleasure meeting you again.
And as a light touched him deeply and enveloped the small ball of light, the soul of the Demon King Azrael Noctem Cael'Zar began to fade little by little.
"Every King deserves a second chance."
Azrael, confused, barely managed to say:
—Wait… what did you say… about seeing me agai—
The echo of his last words — "Where am I going!?" — vanished into the immensity of the void.
A sepulchral silence covered everything. There was no ground, no sky, no time… only an absolute black abyss, as if the universe had exhaled for the last time. From his own perspective, the once Demon King, Azrael Noctem Cael'Zar, felt something begin to beat strongly in his chest, like an infernal drum resonating against nothingness.
—I can't see anything… —he muttered, or perhaps thought; in that space, the voice had no form.
He felt a great blink as his eyelids slowly opened. First, a faint light; then, blurry shapes. Finally, clarity. The ceiling was white, decorated with fine moldings and… a crystal lamp?
—What is this…? A chandelier? Am I in… some kind of luxurious house?
He tried to move his body, but something held him back. Not just sudden or physical paralysis… it was different. Organic. Fragile. Looking down, his gaze found two tiny hands: soft, chubby. His legs were just as small.
He saw on the sides wooden railings enclosing him, resembling some kind of wooden crib barrier that kept him from falling.
—What…? What the hell…? I'm in a crib!
The revelation struck him with the force of a celestial spear. He was trapped in the body of a baby.
—No! This cannot be happening! I am the Demon King! The scourge of the heavens!
Suddenly, from his perspective, a giant figure approached. It was a woman in a maid's uniform. Her large breasts pressed against her work attire, with prominent curves, long brown hair tied back elegantly, and a seductive beauty mark by her lips. Her presence was warm, almost maternal, and that enraged him even more.
The woman lifted him effortlessly, as if she weren't holding a millennial demon, but an ordinary human infant.
—Wait, cursed woman! Put me down! Do you even know who I am!? —shouted the former Demon King within his mind, powerless, thrashing inside his limited body.
—It seems young master Reinhard has awakened —the maid said sweetly—. Here you are, Lady Ramona.
He was handed over to another figure: a woman of noble beauty, in a yellow silk dress, eyes black as midnight and hair as dark as the depths of a beautiful well. Her expression was radiant.
—Oh, my baby… every time I see him, he looks more like his father —she said tenderly, holding him with sincere affection.
—This woman thinks I'm her son!? This is blasphemy! I am Azrael Noctem Cael'Zar! I will burn you alive with my infernal flames…! —But his curse was cut short.
Reality struck again: he had no power. No control. Not even teeth.
—Damn voice! You made me reincarnate as a human baby!
The now-called Reinhard Ashfield, barely a month old, wore a soft fine cloth garment. His hair was golden like the sunrise, his eyes blue like a cloudless sky. A lock fell playfully over his forehead, and his small nose gave him a regal air, even in that tiny form.
The door opened with a faint creak. A man entered the room, elegant, in an immaculate white suit, with golden blond hair like Reinhard's and bright bluish eyes, much like his newborn son.
—Where is daddy's treasure? —he exclaimed with enthusiasm.
Without hesitation, he lifted him clumsily but with genuine love.
—How are you, Reinhard! My dear Reinhard Ashfield. I'm so glad to see you again —he expressed, taking him from his mother's arms.
—Stop, human! You're shaking me like a cursed doll… I'm getting dizzy… —he whimpered internally.
—Hey, darling —Ramona intervened with a nervous smile—, I think Reinhard is feeling unwell… you should calm down a little.
Both parents sat down, gazing in awe at their child as he wriggled softly, confused, dizzy… and furious within.
The love in their eyes was genuine, profound. A gift. A home.
But within that baby slept a dark soul, a soul that had commanded armies, devoured worlds, slaughtered without mercy. A soul that did not know what to do with that love. He did not understand it. He did not want it.
—Of all the races and creatures I could have reincarnated into, it had to be a damned human —resented Reinhard Ashfield in the depths of his being.
The Demon King had died in the past, and in this future he had been reborn as a human child.
Time had passed since then, though Reinhard Ashfield still couldn't fully accept reality. His mind, once brimming with power and ambition, now floated trapped inside the shell of a mere human baby. A sea of rage, frustration, and disorientation invaded every corner of his consciousness. None of this made sense.
—What kind of cruel joke is this? —he thought as his tiny eyes gazed at the room illuminated by magical lamps.
And as if the universe itself mocked him, there were his new "parents":
A human noble with a charismatic gaze, a wide smile, and a confident voice; and a mother with a warm smile, evident sweetness, and an aura of tenderness that sickened Reinhard like venom.
—Tsk… So this is how my new life begins? Surrounded by human affection —he grumbled inwardly.
They treated him with care, rocked him, sang to him, and looked after him with devotion. And he… hated it.
—And how the hell am I supposed to get my revenge on humans if I can't even move? Do I really have to wait years until…?
A spasm interrupted his thoughts. Something wet. Thick. Sticky.
—No… don't tell me…
A shiver ran down his tiny body. He felt… filthy.
And then, between the desperate cry of an ancient, powerful soul and the helplessness of a newborn body, Reinhard let out a piercing wail.
But from the outside, it was nothing more than the typical cry of a fussy baby.
The door opened instantly.
—Oh, calm down, little Reinhard —said a gentle female voice as she carefully picked him up—. Did you dirty your diaper again?
It was Lili, the household's alluring maid, a young woman with wavy brown hair, hazel eyes, and a beauty mark by her lip that gave her a coquettish charm.
—This has to be a damn nightmare! —Reinhard roared inside as she cleaned him with care—. I refuse! I'm the Demon King, damn it! And they have to wipe me as if I were some crippled fool!
Lili, unaware of the inner storm brewing within the baby in her arms, dressed him in soft clothes, scented and decorated with elegant embroidery.
—At least they keep me spotless —Reinhard grumbled, resigned—. That's something, I guess.
Just then, the door opened again. An elegant figure with calm steps entered the room.
It was his mother: Ramona Ashfield. Black hair, dark eyes, and a serene presence.
—Thank you, Lili. What would we do without you —she said in a melodious voice as she took her son into her arms—. Come on, little Reinhard. Time for some fresh air.
Still irritated, Reinhard was carried through the grand mansion's halls, where kind-faced servants bowed respectfully as Ramona proudly walked with her baby in her arms.
—Where is this woman taking me now? —Reinhard wondered suspiciously.
They arrived at a door adorned with silver carvings, where a soft breeze slipped through the edges. When sunlight bathed his face, Reinhard felt something unexpected: peace. A subtle peace… but real.
Before him stretched a colossal garden. Emerald grass, well-trimmed trees, vibrant flowers, and a crystalline fountain adorned the place.
—Hmm… a courtyard, not bad. But my castle was better —he muttered arrogantly in his mind.
The butlers placed him in a cradle under a giant tree. The leaves danced with the wind while he looked up at the sky, feeling for the first time since his reincarnation the breath of pure, genuine air.
Farther away, his mother drank tea with elegance, seated on a crystal chair before a brilliantly adorned table of sweets and finely embroidered napkins.
—Humans… so old-fashioned. So predictable —Reinhard thought as he stared at his tiny hands—. Who would've thought that I, Azrael Noctem Cael'Zar, the most feared Demon King… would end up like this?
Weeks had passed since his rebirth. And little by little, he began to accept an irrefutable truth: he had been reborn as Reinhard Ashfield, son of the noble Homen Ashfield and the lady Ramona Ashfield.
And as much as he despised them, he had to admit he couldn't survive without them.
Reluctantly, he recognized that his current parents weren't as detestable as the humans of his era. Was it because they cared for him? Because they treated him with love? Or simply because he still needed them to grow?
It didn't matter. Just as in his past life as Demon King, he had never had parents, never even knew if he had been born or if he simply existed because of what he was back then.
That was irrelevant. What truly mattered was the purpose burning deep in his soul: total vengeance against humanity.
But now… now he was nothing more than an infant. He had to grow, learn, adapt, become one of them… to destroy them from within.
—And why did that voice bring me back? Why as a human? —he thought, frowning—. What cursed destiny is this? No matter, I, Reinhard Ashfield, will overcome it, no matter what.
As the tree leaves swayed above his head, Reinhard closed his eyes. The path to his great vengeance seemed long. But the King had awakened.