The mansion was silent.
Not the ordinary silence of an empty house, but a heavy, deliberate stillness—as if even sound itself feared to exist here. The long corridors stretched endlessly, carved from ancient black stone, each wall engraved with symbols older than most civilizations. Lamps made from condensed spiritual crystals burned quietly, their pale light trembling as a figure walked past.
Keil Voss moved through the halls.
His steps were slow.
Steady.
Unhurried.
He walked without guards. Without servants. Without any need for protection. His posture was straight, his hands resting calmly behind his back. His face showed no emotion—not pride, not arrogance, not even indifference.
Only control.
Anyone watching him would instinctively understand one thing:
This man did not need to prove his authority.
It already existed.
The mansion belonged to the Voss Family, an ancient bloodline feared across countless regions. For millions of years, this family had existed like a shadow at the edge of history—sometimes rising, sometimes almost disappearing, but never truly erased.
And now, its most terrifying existence had returned.
As Keil Voss walked, doors remained closed.
No servant dared to approach.
No guard dared to breathe too loudly.
Even the hidden formation spirits embedded within the mansion trembled faintly as he passed.
"As expected," Keil Voss thought calmly.
"There is absolute silence around my room."
His eyes shifted slightly, scanning the corridor without turning his head.
"They fear me."
Not because he had killed anyone today.
Not because he had threatened them.
But because of what he was.
At the center of his forehead, partially hidden beneath his long black hair, was a mark.
A demonic mark.
A Demonic Phoenix.
Its wings spread across his body in a phantom outline only visible to those sensitive to fate and death. The mark was deep crimson, almost black, as if burned directly into his flesh by the laws of destruction themselves.
It was beautiful.
And horrifying.
The phoenix's wings wrapped around his existence, symbolizing rebirth—but not the kind celebrated by life.
This phoenix represented death, endings, and irreversible fate.
In ancient records, the Demonic Phoenix was not a creature of fire and hope.
It was the final shadow cast when an era ended.
Those who bore its mark were not kings.
They were not rulers.
They were calamities.
The servants of the Voss Mansion understood this instinctively.
That mark meant one thing:
Death would follow.
Some feared him.
Some worshiped him in silence.
Some hated him deeply.
But all of them were bound to him by fate.
Because Keil Voss was not merely a member of the Voss Family.
He was its inevitable destiny.
The Voss Family carried a curse.
A curse older than most heavens.
For more than one million years, the Voss bloodline had been bound by a cruel rule:
No member of the Voss Family could live beyond fifty years—
unless they became a True Immortal.
It did not matter how talented they were.
It did not matter how powerful their cultivation methods were.
Once they reached fifty years of age, death would arrive.
Sudden.
Absolute.
Unavoidable.
Many geniuses had risen within the Voss Family, only to collapse at the peak of their growth. Many had screamed at the heavens, cursed fate, and tried to escape.
None succeeded.
In a million years, only a handful had broken through to True Immortality before their deadline.
The rest died.
Silently.
Cruelly.
But once every thousand years, something different happened.
A child was born.
A child marked by the Demonic Phoenix.
A child whose lifespan exceeded one hundred years.
A child destined to either break the curse—
Or drag the entire bloodline into absolute destruction.
Keil Voss was that child.
As he walked, memories surfaced.
The origin of the curse.
The truth that the so-called righteous world tried to erase.
Long ago, before this era of "order," before immortal sects preached balance and morality, there was an ancestor of the Voss Family.
A man who dared to do what no one else could.
He tried to disobey Heaven itself.
Not metaphorically.
Not symbolically.
Literally.
That ancestor discovered a flaw in fate.
A gap between laws.
A weakness in the system that governed existence.
For a brief moment in history, he almost succeeded.
He nearly stepped beyond the control of Heaven and Fate.
And that terrified everyone.
The righteous sects.
The heavenly clans.
The so-called guardians of balance.
They united—not to protect the world, but to protect their authority.
They used cheap tricks.
Dirty schemes.
False alliances.
They pretended to negotiate while poisoning his fate.
They called it justice.
They called it righteousness.
But in truth, it was fear.
In the final battle, when that ancestor stood at the edge of victory, they struck him from behind. They shattered his soul foundation and cursed his bloodline.
As he died, Heaven sealed the curse into the Voss Family.
A punishment disguised as balance.
Keil Voss stopped walking.
He stood before a tall window carved from ancient crystal. Outside, the vast Delervious Ascend Region stretched endlessly. Mountains floated in the sky, spiritual rivers flowed through clouds, and sect banners fluttered in the distance.
A beautiful world.
Built upon lies.
He looked at his reflection faintly visible in the glass.
Expressionless.
"I understand now," he thought calmly.
"In my previous life, I was too cautious at the wrong moments."
He remembered trusting people who deserved to die.
He remembered sparing enemies who later joined the coalition against him.
He remembered believing that power alone would be enough.
It was not.
Power without ruthlessness was just delayed death.
His gaze sharpened slightly.
"This time," he said softly, his voice carrying no emotion,
"I will succeed."
He placed one hand on the window frame.
"I will not beg Heaven."
"I will not negotiate with Fate."
"I will not give the righteous world a second chance."
The Demonic Phoenix mark pulsed faintly.
The mansion trembled.
Somewhere deep underground, ancient seals responded.
Keil Voss continued:
"I will make them remember."
The future had already changed.
In this era, Keil Voss was no longer a cautious survivor.
He was a true sovereign.
Not a ruler chosen by the heavens.
But one who would force the heavens to acknowledge him.
The world outside remained unaware.
The sects continued their rituals.
The righteous preached morality.
The strong oppressed the weak while calling it order.
They did not know.
They could not imagine—
That the demon who once fell at the end of time had returned to the beginning.
And this time…
He would not fall alone.
"I, Keil Voss," he said quietly, standing beside the window,
"will succeed this time."
A pause.
Then—
"A horrifying demon has been reborn."
The wind howled.
The Demonic Phoenix spread its wings in the reflection.
And somewhere far beyond the horizon, fate itself began to crack.