Long ago, there was a Demon King who sought to conquer the entire continent.
He was infamous for his cruelty and brutality.
He slaughtered without mercy, committed genocide, and personally led battles on the front lines. Wherever he marched, death followed.
Humans, elves, beastmen, and dwarves eventually formed an alliance to stop the demon invasion.
Yet all their efforts were in vain.
The continent was reduced to ruin.
Death spread everywhere.
Famine plagued every land.
Half of the human population was wiped out in horrific ways.
The elven kingdom was burned to the ground, leaving nothing but ashes.
The dwarves were driven to the brink of extinction.
So monstrous was the Demon King's cruelty that legends claimed when he walked upon green land, the soil itself turned black.
The sun refused to shine upon him.
Life withered at his presence.
Thus, he earned a name that would haunt the continent:
The Walking Calamity.
You might wonder why did the Demon King invade the other races of the continent?
The answer was simple.
He firmly believed that the demon race was superior to all others and the only one worthy of ruling the continent.
He despised every other race.
Yes.
In other words he was a racist.
When the continent was on the verge of complete domination, the gods and goddesses of each race finally intervened.
They bestowed divine blessings upon chosen champions.
From the four races emerged a party of heroes, tasked with ending the Demon King's reign.
The party consisted of:
Adnin, a human fighter wielding a holy sword forged directly by the gods themselves.
Linora, a human cleric blessed with sacred power capable of healing any wound.
Sageon, a human wizard possessing magical affinity over all elements.
Kina, an elven ranger whose blessing granted her senses—hearing, smell, and sight—far beyond any other race.
Thoriq, a dwarven paladin clad in armor and shield strong enough to withstand thousands of demon assaults.
And lastly, Taka, a beastman druid with immense physical strength and the ability to transform into beasts.
They became the spearhead of the counteroffensive.
Because of them, the alliance turned the tide of war.
Demon forces were pushed back.
Occupied territories were slowly reclaimed.
One by one, demon commanders fell at their hands.
The Demon King did not remain idle.
He personally led his army to crush the heroes.
Whether by fate or coincidence, they met in a valley nestled between two mountains.
Its name was Valley of Grace.
The valley became a natural arena for the final battle.
The Demon King stood at the front of 60,000 demon soldiers, clad in black armor, 2 horned black helmet upon his head.
His presence was overwhelming like a judge about to pass a death sentence.
Opposing him stood the heroes, leading 30,000 allied soldiers.
They fought in that valley for days.
Under scorching sunlight and relentless rain, the battle raged on.
Screams of agony filled the air.
Steel clashed with steel.
Magic collided with magic.
But where there is a beginning, there is always an end.
After four days of nonstop combat, the Demon King could no longer withstand the heroes.
His body was riddled with wounds.
His left arm had been severed.
A hole gaped in his chest.
A sword was lodged deep in his neck.
Black blood poured endlessly from his injuries yet he still stood.
That sight filled everyone on the battlefield with terror.
But even a Demon King could not endure such damage forever.
At last, he collapsed.
His body grew heavy.
His vision blurred.
A voice reached his ears.
When he looked up, he saw Adnin, the human fighter, standing over him with the holy sword.
"This is the end, Demon King," Adnin said.
"Do you have any last words?"
Even with a blade piercing his neck, the Demon King still found the strength to speak.
"Haha… that was so much damn fun."
With those final words, Adnin severed the Demon King's head.
Black blood sprayed everywhere.
Head and body fell apart.
A horrifying sight.
The war was over.
The alliance had won.
The Demon King's reign was ended.
The Demon King and his 60,000 soldiers were annihilated.
But victory came at a terrible cost.
27,400 allied soldiers died.
Adnin lost his right eye and his left arm.
Sageon's mana core was destroyed, leaving him unable to use magic ever again.
Thoriq died a gruesome death his armor shattered, his shield broken, his abdomen split open by the Demon King, his organs spilling onto the battlefield.
Taka lost one of his legs.
Kina suffered a severe stab wound to the abdomen, though it was not life threatening compared to the others.
Linora, the cleric, bore no physical wounds at all.
Yet her mind was shattered.
The gore of the battlefield the seas of blood, piles of corpses, severed limbs, scattered organs burned itself permanently into her memory.
She went mad.
Not long after returning to the church, she took her own life.
Because of the sheer horror and devastation of that battle, the valley was renamed.
Valley of Grace became
The Mourning Valley.
Days passed.
Years passed.
Yet the Demon King remained a terror in every race's memory.
Parents used his name to frighten disobedient children:
"If you don't behave, the Demon King will come for you."
Four hundred years passed since the Great War.
Even though the Demon King was defeated, war did not come to an end.
The alliance that once stood united against a common enemy eventually collapsed.
Old grudges resurfaced, trust faded, and the races turned their blades against one another.
The peace they fought for shattered, replaced by endless conflicts between former allies.
Now, you might be wondering why I told you all of this.
Because
"Why the fuck was I reincarnated as a human?"
Yep.
That's me.
The racist Demon King, reincarnated as a human
400 years after my death.
Author's Note
Hello everyone, this is Sunrisebringer.
Thank you for reading this chapter.
If you enjoy the story, don't forget to share it and leave a comment.
Your support means more than you think and it keeps this world alive.
See you in the next chapter.