The first thing Hermes noticed was the cold.Not the kind of cold that made you shiver or reach for a blanket. This was different—it crawled under his skin, settled in his bones, felt wrong in ways he couldn't quite name. His eyes cracked open to darkness so complete it might as well have been a physical thing pressing against his face.Where am I?He tried to move. Couldn't. His limbs felt like they belonged to someone else, heavy and unresponsive. Panic fluttered in his chest—a small, pathetic thing at first, then growing, spreading like wildfire through his veins.Breathe. Just breathe.But when he did, the air tasted metallic. Strange. His tongue felt too thick in his mouth.Memory came in fragments. Flashes of light. The screaming of metal being torn apart. Fire—so much fire—and the cold void of space rushing in through ruptured hull plating. Six figures surrounding him, their power so immense it bent reality itself. The Excalibur dying beneath his feet.I should be dead.The thought arrived with absolute certainty. He remembered dying. Felt it, even now—the moment his Core shattered, his body torn apart by forces that could crack planets. Alexander Smith, Knight of Light, the strongest human alive, had died.So why was he thinking?His fingers twitched. Then his hand. Sensation flooded back in a rush that made him gasp—made him realize he'd been holding his breath without knowing it. He sat up too fast, and the world spun sickeningly around him."Easy now." A woman's voice, soft but firm. Hands on his shoulders, steadying him. "You've been out for three days. Your body needs time."Hermes blinked. Once, twice. Shapes resolved themselves from the darkness. Not darkness at all, he realized—just dim lighting. His eyes had been... what? Adjusting? Broken?The woman sitting beside him had silver hair that seemed to glow faintly in the low light. Her eyes were amber, slit-pupiled like a cat's. No—not like a cat. Like a demon.The word hit him like a physical blow.Demon."Mom?" The word left his mouth before he could stop it, and it felt foreign on his tongue. Wrong. That wasn't his voice—it was too high, too young. Too alive with confusion.She smiled, though something sad lingered in her expression. "I was worried you wouldn't remember me. The doctors said there might be... complications. From the accident."Accident. Right. Because that's what they'd call it.Hermes forced himself to focus on her face. He should recognize her. Part of him did—some deep, instinctive part that whispered mother and safe and home. But overlaying that was another set of memories, sharper and more vivid, of a different life. A different face. His mother had been human, with brown eyes and laugh lines around her mouth, and she'd died when he was seven.That was Alexander's mother.Who the hell was Hermes?"I'm glad you're alright." Her hand squeezed his shoulder gently. "When the Core awakening went wrong, when you collapsed... we thought we'd lost you. Your father's been beside himself."Core awakening. The words triggered something—a sensation deep in his chest, like a second heartbeat pulsing just beneath his sternum. He pressed his palm against it instinctively and felt... power. Raw, untamed, vast enough to drown in.No. This isn't possible.Alexander had spent thirty years cultivating his Core. Decades of meditation, combat, pushing his body and spirit to their absolute limits. You didn't just wake up with that kind of power. You earned it through blood and pain and sacrifice.But there it was. Pulsing. Waiting."The medics said you were lucky." His mother—no, Hermes's mother—stood and moved to the window. Outside, twin suns cast purple-tinged light across an alien cityscape. Buildings that looked like they'd been grown rather than built stretched toward a sky filled with ships. Actual starships, cruising between structures like metal fish through water. "A Core awakening that volatile should have killed you. But here you are. Awake. Alive."She didn't know how right she was.Hermes swung his legs off the bed, testing them. They held his weight—barely. His reflection caught in the darkened glass of a nearby mirror, and he froze.That wasn't his face.Younger. Maybe seventeen, eighteen at most. Sharp features with that same silver hair falling across red eyes—red, not the blue he remembered—and skin pale enough to look almost gray in the dim light. Two small horns curved back from his temples, barely visible beneath his hair.Horns. Because of course he had horns now."I don't..." He stopped, cleared his throat. His voice sounded steadier now. More controlled. "I don't remember the awakening. It's all... fuzzy."A lie. The memories were crystal clear—Alexander's memories, at least. Hermes's life was the fuzzy part, playing out like a half-remembered dream. Growing up in this city. This family. A normal demon kid preparing for his Core awakening ceremony like every other seventeen-year-old. Except something had gone catastrophically wrong.Or catastrophically right, depending on how you looked at it."That's normal," his mother assured him. "The trauma, the surge of power—it all affects memory. The doctors said you'll recover with time." She turned from the window, and there was steel beneath her gentle tone. "You've been accepted to Genesis Academy. The letter arrived yesterday. Classes start in two weeks."Genesis Academy.The name hit him harder than it should have. He'd heard of it, of course. Even in his previous life, even among humans, everyone knew about Genesis. The premier training ground for demon elites, located on the moon of the demon capital world. Where the strongest gathered. Where the Demon Supremes had trained.Where his killers had learned to kill.Something must have shown on his face because his mother's expression softened. "I know it's overwhelming. But you've worked so hard for this, Hermes. This is everything you've wanted."Had it been? He couldn't tell anymore where Alexander ended and Hermes began. The memories were tangled, bleeding into each other like watercolors left too long in the rain."Yeah," he managed. "Genesis Academy. That's... that's good."She smiled, relief evident in the way her shoulders relaxed. "Get some rest. Your father will want to see you when he gets home. We have a lot to prepare before you leave."She left, closing the door softly behind her. The moment she was gone, Hermes let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.His hands were shaking. He stared at them—these strange, too-pale hands with their unfamiliar length and shape—and felt something crack inside his chest. Not his Core. Something deeper, more fundamental.Fifteen years. The Supremes had destroyed him fifteen years ago, and somehow, impossibly, he'd come back. Not as Alexander Smith. Not as the Knight of Light. As this. As one of them.He closed his eyes and reached inward, toward that pulsing sensation in his chest. His Core responded immediately, and power flooded through him in a torrent that made his vision white out. Lightning crackled across his skin—but not the pure white-gold he remembered. This was darker. Deeper.Black lightning danced between his fingers, leaving scorch marks on the sheets.Hermes killed it immediately, terror and exhilaration warring in his gut. Too much power. Way too much. If anyone had been watching, if anyone had felt that...But no alarms sounded. No one came running. The house remained quiet except for the distant hum of city traffic outside.He was Rank 0. Had to be. There was no other explanation for power like that. Which meant he was either the luckiest or unluckiest person alive—he couldn't decide which.Genesis Academy. The Demon Supremes. All the answers he needed were there, probably. Along with all the people who'd want him dead if they knew what he really was.Hermes laughed, quiet and slightly unhinged. The sound startled him."Well," he muttered to the empty room, to his strange reflection in the darkened glass, "this should be interesting."His Core pulsed in agreement. And deep in the back of his mind, beneath the confusion and fear and anger, Alexander Smith began planning his revenge.
