[First–Person POV]
Of all the ways I could have died—old age, disease, some stupid accident—I never thought it would happen like this. Not fate. Not karma. Just some random lunatic with a knife.
It was supposed to be an ordinary day. I had just finished my evening classes at the community college and was walking home like usual. The bus cost a few bucks, but I didn't feel like spending it. I figured it was just an hour's walk.
Thirty minutes in, I saw him.
A man, maybe in his forties, stepped out from a house across the street. His clothes were soaked in blood. A butcher knife dangled loosely from his hand. And he—
He looked calm.
Too calm.
No panic. No guilt. Just a relaxed smile, like the blood didn't matter.
For five long seconds, my mind shut down. Everything froze. The world went silent except for the faint buzz of the streetlights. Then my instincts screamed—run.
And I did.
I sprinted faster than I ever thought possible. My heart hammered. My lungs burned. My sneakers slapped against the concrete. I didn't look back. I didn't have to. I could hear him—his footsteps, his laughter, his deranged voice shouting about being "free" and "done hiding."
Then—
A sharp pain tore through my back. My body stumbled. The pavement rushed up to meet me. Another stab followed. Then another.
The world blurred. Colors faded into red and black.
As everything went quiet, one final thought crossed my mind:
'This can't be how it ends… right?'
Then—darkness.
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[Third–Person POV]
He drifted in a dark, silent void. No air. No heartbeat. No sound. For what felt like forever, there was nothing but stillness—a limbo where thought and memory barely existed.
'So this was death'… he thought.
Fragments of memory flashed: walking home from college, the man with the knife, the fear, the pain. Then nothing. Just silence.
But eventually, something changed.
A deep, rhythmic pulse echoed through the void. Thump… thump… thump. It wasn't his heartbeat, but it carried warmth. The darkness softened, thick and warm—like floating in water. He tried to move, but his body didn't respond as it should. Everything felt smaller, confined, like the space around him pressed close. It was strange—claustrophobic, yet oddly safe.
Then he sensed something else.
Another presence—close, faint, but familiar. Not hostile. Just there, like an echo beside him.
He didn't know where he was or what had happened, but his mind was sharpening. The terror of death had faded. All that remained was confusion—and waiting.
Time had no meaning. Seconds or hours—he couldn't tell. The warmth occasionally shifted, like the world itself was breathing.
Then, suddenly, something cracked.
Pressure lifted. Light—blinding and sharp—flooded in from every direction. His body jerked in shock as air filled his lungs for the first time. A rough gasp tore from his throat.
Sound followed. Muffled voices. Movement. The hum of existence.
His vision was a blur of colors and shapes. Cold air replaced the warmth, and his new body trembled from the change.
He didn't understand what was happening. All he knew was—he was alive again.
And somewhere close, that other presence stirred too—the one that had always been beside him.
Then pain struck his mind. Sharp. Overwhelming. A surge of memories, voices, and visions crashed into him. Knowledge and lifetimes forced themselves into his skull in an instant.
He saw himself as someone else—a simple angel named Maro of the Third Sphere. Gentle. Curious. A learner who studied both angels and mortals.
Then came Lucifer's dissent.
The endless war in Heaven.
The final push.
Centuries of loyalty until he rose to the rank of Principality.
Then—discovery. Forbidden truths hidden by the First Sphere: the Rebellion was planned, the War was a test, and God's throne… was empty.
Branded a rebel without fair trial and condemned.
Joined the rebel faction. Fought again. Fell to Hell.
He studied magic. Forged runes. Built a kingdom.
And from that kingdom came the birth of the 72.
Every triumph. Every failure. Every note of the music that defined his reign returned all at once.
The warmth, the light, the noise—all vanished under the weight of his awakening identity.
From the simple angel Maro—
To Hell's Strongest Monarch—
King Melchivor.
Someone he knew. A character. His character. A custom demonology creation made on a whim—and now he was that character.
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[First–Person POV — Reawakening / Aftermath]
"Wha—what the hell was that…!?"
As suddenly as the pain appeared, it felt like it hadn't happened at all. If not for the endless, steep knowledge now buried deep in my mind as proof, I might have questioned whether it even occurred.
"Wuwu!"
"Chev! Chev!"
"Chip! Chip!"
These look like… baby anthropomorphic owls?
Where the hell am I??
Once the throbbing in my head subsided, I could finally look around. For what felt like the first time, I noticed the owlish bird creatures making noises like a mix between a human infant and a chick. They came in various shapes, sizes, and colors.
But the most striking was a tall bird-like being with black feathers, red eyes, and a white face marked with red sigils. He wore a crimson cloak and a golden crown.
I watched as the crowned bird picked up the other baby creatures—sometimes pleased, sometimes disappointed, sometimes contemptuous—yet he always said something before putting them back down.
Then he walked toward me and picked me up. Looking into his eyes made me feel seen. Despite being nervous, I didn't panic; that felt strange.
"…..Interesting~! I can already feel your future role among the Goetia—Language, Music, Runes, Magic, even… Inspiration!" he said.
"It even shows on your physical form, giving you a sense of regality and wisdom despite being just born… yes! That's it!" he continued.
"Melchivor! That shall be your name! It may not be demonic in origin, but it certainly fits. Plus, it degrades the meaning of a name those angelic fools hold dear. Hahaha."
Even for me, that was uncanny. How could he come up with the same name as the character I was reincarnated as? And why had I been reincarnated as King Melchivor—Melchivor now, I guessed?
Regardless of how I felt, the bird guy looked at me not the way a parent (assuming he is one) would look at their child with love and care, but as a useful and amusing "tool," which honestly pissed me off for some reason.
"I hope you turn out the way I expect of you, child, and not a disappointment… but then again, I can always sire more."
What a fcking asshole… but at least he isn't an abusive drunken father (yet),* I thought as this supposed "father" of mine settled me inside a crib beside another bird baby, who was sleeping soundly.
It had gray, blue, and dark blue feathers, with a gray-blue puff of fur on its chest and a tail with darker blue tips.
That gave me the sudden realization that I should give myself a good look over. Using a body mirror not too far away from the crib, I saw my own reflection and noticed features on my body that shared many similarities with these bird babies—especially the one next to me—though there were quite a few differences.
The feathers on my body seemed dense, soft, and matte; down feathers overlaid with sparse, uniform charcoal-black with a slight metallic undertone. My chest feathers were slightly puffier, rounded, and dull gray at the center. There were also faint silver line patterns appearing irregularly across the shoulders and wings—inactive rune bases that would later glow as language glyphs. My underwings softly had a purple-blue sheen, visible under direct light.
Speaking of which, I had wings. Eight of them in total.
The upper (main) pair looked most developed: black with faint red-violet dots near the ends of the feathers.
The second pair was slightly smaller with a faint blue sheen along the edges.
The third pair was covered mostly in down, with small patches where faint symbols appeared under strong light.
Lastly, the fourth pair seemed to be the smallest, looking like stabilizers rather than for flight.
But the most outstanding feature was my head. I had three pairs of eyes plus one slit centered above my forehead, which I was pretty sure was the "Third Eye" of King Melchivor.
The first pair was golden with gray pupils that appeared steady.
The second pair was pale blue-gray and more focused.
The third pair had a deep violet tone.
Lastly, on my forehead was an inactive eye, seemingly covered by a translucent membrane that occasionally glowed faint white.
My head shape was rounded, with a broad cranium and defined cheek and eye ridges.
My horns were two small metallic stubs with dark gray, slightly rough surface texture.
The crown ridge was formed of thickened feather growth above the horns—the early foundation of my future crown structure.
My beak was matte black, smooth, short, and slightly curved at the tip.
Honestly, I had no idea what was going on, but right now I felt too tired to think.
Whatever is happening is tomorrow-me's problem, I thought as I fell asleep.
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Author: Hey guys I just want to let you know that this is my test chapter to see where its going, that means I take about a month or less, where I'll build up a few chapters and if it goes well that send all of them out, which will be about 5 I'd say, depends how creative I can get.
Anyways please give any suggestions how I could improve the story~☆!