The world trembled with a deafening roar as Lee Seong-jun was pulled across time and space. His vision swam, his ears rang, and when his consciousness finally cleared, he opened his eyes to a grim reality.
The overwhelming strength he once held as the Demon God was gone. His body, once a vessel of divine power, felt frail and heavy. His blood vessels were clogged, his muscles weak, and even his breath carried the weight of helplessness. He had not felt such exhaustion since before his ascension.
Yet, he understood the truth. To return to Earth, such sacrifice was necessary. If the gods had allowed both body and soul to cross time, the consequences would have broken reality itself. Power was the price of return.
Rising from the ground, he took in his surroundings. A desolate park stretched around him, littered with ruins of buildings and lifeless trees. Nothing resembled the peaceful parks of memory. Instead, the wreckage whispered of disaster.
This was not the Earth he had left. By the year 2038, rifts known as Gates had torn open, filling the world with monsters, Awakened, and foreign races like elves, orcs, and merfolk. By 2055, long-lost people had returned through those gates. Some had even reappeared within the dungeons themselves.
Had he too been thrown into a Gate? The thought unsettled him, for the scene before him mirrored the nightmare of his youth — the very day he was torn from his home and cast onto another continent.
Uncertainty gnawed at him, but doubt was useless. The gods had little reason to deceive him, yet he could not dismiss the possibility of a trap. For now, the only truths he could trust were those before his eyes.
Still, Seong-jun refused despair. Though his powers were stripped away, his memories and experience remained. That knowledge was a weapon greater than strength itself.
He found shelter in the wreckage of what once seemed a convenience store. The debris shielded him from view and gave him a moment to breathe. It was not safety, but it was enough.
There, he sat cross-legged. If survival was his goal, then regaining strength was the first step. The air was thick with energy, almost as rich as the continent he had once conquered. A faint smile curved his lips.
It was enough to attempt the Blood Spirit Asura Divine Art — a martial technique feared even by gods. This was no ordinary cultivation method. Born from the first Blood Demon, it was a living force, violent and feral, testing its master at every turn. For most, to attempt it with such a fragile body meant certain death.
But Seong-jun was no ordinary man. He had studied every martial art and magical system across countless lands, advancing the Asura Divine Art to a level beyond its creator. He knew its dangers better than anyone, and he knew he could tame it.
Closing his eyes, he drew in a long, steady breath. The energy of the world surged into him like a raging tide, threatening to tear his body apart. Blood roared in his veins, his muscles spasmed, and agony wracked every corner of his being.
This was the trial. To submit meant death, but to endure meant power.
Pain tried to break him, but Seong-jun endured in silence. Compared to the blood-drenched battlefields of his past, this was nothing. He had survived hell once, and he would do so again.
Within the ruins of a broken world, the former Demon God began his rebirth — a fragile body wrapped in unbearable pain, yet sustained by a will forged in fire and blood.
The awakening had begun.