The Boy Who Refused to Break
After an unknown amount of time passed, beneath layers of dirt and broken branches, the figure of a little boy suddenly rose — like an undead climbing out of a grave.
Mud slid from his hair. Air burned in his lungs.
For a few heartbeats, everything spun.
Then, as his senses returned, the boy staggered to his feet — and ran.
He stumbled. Fell. Scraped his palms raw.
But he got up again, as if something was dragging him forward by sheer will.
This boy was Lucien — black hair hanging to his shoulders, crimson eyes dim with shock, small horns curving back from his skull.
And pain was crawling through every inch of his body.
Once he fully woke, it hit him all at once. His muscles screamed. Burn marks charred patches across his clothes. Every breath burned.
But there were no fatal wounds.
And then — the memory crashed in.
Evelyn.
Her standing between him and the Griffin.
Her back straight. Her expression steady.
Her eyes soft — even when facing death.
He jerked upright as if struck by lightning and started sprinting toward the place they had been before everything exploded.
Move…
His jaw clenched so hard it ached.
Move, damn it. Even if I die… it will only be after I find her.
Blood dripped from the corner of his lips. His chest heaved. His legs buckled more than once — but he forced them to obey, dragging himself forward through stone, ash, and broken earth.
And finally…
He reached the place.
Reality struck.
There was nothing left.
The mountain ridge had been torn apart. The forest was gone. The ground was scorched black. Even the stones had melted into twisted shapes.
Smoke curled upward into the sky, thick enough to become low, smothering clouds. Rain began to fall again — a bleak curtain drawn over ruin.
Lucien dropped to his knees.
He didn't scream.
At first, he simply… sat there, letting the cold sink into his bones.
Then the memories surfaced — not of magic, not of bloodlines, not of clans.
But of the woman who had held him from the day he was born into this world.
Tears blurred his vision.
Back on Earth… his story had not started with warmth.
He remembered the narrow apartment filled with silence. A mother who worked three jobs until her lungs collapsed. A boy who sat beside a hospital bed, fingers clutching fabric too tightly.
"Mom… I'll study hard. I'll get us out of here. Just… stay."
She had smiled — tired, fragile.
"I'm proud of you, sweetheart."
She didn't wake the next morning.
After that, he lived with relatives who saw him as a burden. Cold dinners. Harsh words. Doors shutting in his face. He carried everything alone — school, part-time work, nights that felt endless.
Once, while walking home through the rain, he had whispered to himself:
"It'll get better. Just endure."
Then the accident came.
A crowded subway platform. A man pushing past a woman with a child. The woman stumbled forward — toward the tracks.
Lucien didn't think.
He grabbed her. Pulled.
She and the child rolled back onto the platform.
He didn't.
The train's lights swallowed everything.
And when he opened his eyes again… he was a baby in unfamiliar arms.
Demons surrounded him — horns, scarlet eyes, strange markings — terrifying at first.
Until those arms tightened gently.
Until that soft voice whispered to him.
Until he saw her.
Evelyn — long black hair flowing down her back, deep red eyes, two long, elegant horns curving from her head, and two small fangs peeking from her lips. Tired, yes — but filled with love warmer than anything he had known.
He couldn't understand her words then — until the strange, searing pain hit his infant mind and language began to unravel itself inside him.
"It's okay, my dear son. Mommy is here."
He thought he was hallucinating at first. Reincarnation? Demon world? It sounded insane.
But time proved it real.
Lucien Avaritia.
Youngest son of the Avaritia clan — one of the Seven Demon Clans ruling the Demon Continent, each named after sins whispered in ancient demon tongue:
Superbia. Invidia. Ira. Avaritia. Luxuria. Gula. Acedia.
Seven powers. Seven bloodlines. Seven thrones of cruelty.
All this time, only Evelyn cared for him.
Damion Avaritia — his father — barely looked his way. Not a word. Not a glance. As if Lucien did not exist.
Then, when Lucien turned seven, he was brought into a grand hall — elders watching him, eyes sharp as knives.
His aptitude test.
His shame.
And everything began to crumble from there.
Remembering the contempt in those gazes — remembering his father's cold dismissal — rage burned through the grief clawing inside him.
Lucien's hands curled into fists so tight his nails pierced skin.
Blood slid down his fingers.
Tears stained red.
He lifted his head toward the dark, clouded sky — and his voice ripped free from his chest.
"Whyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy!"
He screamed until his throat tore raw.
Until his voice broke into coughing fits.
Then—
A sound.
Movement.
He froze.
When he turned, he saw it.
The Griffin.
Not the majestic creature legends described — but a scarred, monstrous survivor. Its lionlike body trembled. Bat-like wings hung torn and blackened. Bone plates along its back were cracked. Venom seeped from the stump where its scorpion-like tail had once been.
It limped forward, leaving bloody prints.
Lucien's lungs filled, tight with fury.
"How dare you still be alive!"
He shouted it without thought — without fear — forgetting completely that even wounded, the beast could crush him like an insect.
The Griffin roared back, a guttural, painful sound.
Lucien looked around frantically, searching for anything — a rock, a stick, anything.
Running wasn't an option.
Then I fight.
His fingers brushed something in his pocket.
He pulled it out — and the breath left his body.
His mother's storage ring.
Of course.
When Evelyn had kissed his forehead… she had slipped it into his clothes.
She had already decided.
She had chosen to die.
Everything she owned — every treasure — she left to him.
His throat tightened.
He reached into the ring and called out a weapon.
Not a sword this time — but a spear.
Cold. Balanced. Heavy with memory.
He gripped it harder, knuckles white. The sky cleared for a heartbeat, revealing three moons hanging silently above.
A world that was not the ash-gray continent.
A world unknown.
"I don't care," he thought, shaking his head.
None of that mattered.
He turned to face the Griffin, levelled the spear, and said —
"Even if it costs me my life, I will take you down."
The Griffin twitched — as if understanding — and forced its broken body to move faster.
Lucien quickly studied it.
One front leg gone.
Half its face melted, left eye destroyed.
Burns all along its side.
Tail missing.
Evelyn's self-detonating magic core should have erased it completely — but too much of her power had leaked out earlier when she forced the forbidden escape spell. The Griffin had survived.
Barely.
Lucien knew he had one chance.
He scooped dirt into his hand and sprinted. The Griffin gathered what strength it had left, charging.
His heart hammered.
His mind sharpened into terrifying focus.
At the last moment — he flung the dirt into the beast's remaining eye, then let his body fall backward, bracing the spear upright toward the sky.
The Griffin, blinded, didn't stop.
"Grrrraaaaahhhh!"
The spear punched through flesh.
Momentum did the rest.
Its own weight tore open its stomach — a wet sound splitting the silence. Organs spilled out, steaming in the cold air.
The Griffin collapsed with a heavy thud.
Lucien pushed himself to his feet. His palms bled around the shaft of the spear. Only now did he realize —
This was the same spear Evelyn had wielded when defending him from Damion.
His eyes blurred.
He swallowed it down.
Not now. Move.
Blood would attract beasts.
He turned to run.
Then — something slammed into him.
Like being hit by a runaway carriage.
His body flew — smashed into a tree nearly a hundred meters away. Pain erupted everywhere. His ribs felt shattered. Breath refused to come.
He forced his eyes open.
Forced himself to stand.
"Ahhhhhh!"
He lost control entirely.
He charged the Griffin again — the creature had managed one last twitch of movement before finally going still.
Seeing the monster that had taken his mother away —
His vision went red.
Hunger. Rage. Hatred.
He stabbed the Griffin.
Again.
Again.
Again.
He didn't know how long he screamed — how long he tore into flesh — until the creature's head was nothing more than blood and pulp.
Then the adrenaline drained.
He collapsed onto his back, chest heaving, world spinning.
After a few seconds — tears slid silently down his temples.
"Kuhh… give her back… give me back my mother!!! You freaking monster!!!"
He sobbed — forgetting danger, forgetting the world — not knowing the Griffin had been the overlord of the entire region, keeping other beasts away.
And while he lay there trying to gather himself—
A sound rang in the air.
Ding.
A cold, mechanical voice echoed inside his mind.
"Congratulations, the host has fulfilled the requirements to—"
The voice paused.
Silence.
Then… it changed. Softer. Feminine.
"What the hell? This body is too shitty. How is someone supposed to fight like this? The system will perform a free physical reformation as… uhh, a welcome gift. Yes. A one-time welcome gift. Ahem — host, please nod if you accept it."
Lucien stared blankly.
His mind swam.
What the hell is happening…?
He was in awe.
And the world seemed to shift again.