The sky split open without warning.
Dark clouds twisted unnaturally, as if the world itself was trying to reject something that had no right to return. A deep silence followed—heavy, suffocating, unnatural.
Then, in a small, dimly lit room…
A boy opened his eyes.
"…So, I'm alive again."
His voice was calm. Too calm for someone who had just been born.
Zareth Voidragon stared at the wooden ceiling above him, his expression emotionless. For a brief moment, everything was quiet.
Then the memories came rushing back.
War.
Fire.
Screams.
And betrayal.
His golden eyes darkened slightly.
"…I remember."
He raised his small hand, staring at it as if it didn't belong to him.
"This body… weak. Fragile."
A faint frown appeared on his face.
"How disappointing."
Fragments of his past life played like broken echoes in his mind. He remembered standing above armies, commanding destruction with a single word. He remembered the fear in the eyes of gods.
And then…
He remembered the blades.
Piercing his back.
His own generals.
"…So that's how it ended."
There was no anger in his voice. No rage.
Only cold acknowledgment.
"They truly believed they could erase me."
For a second, the air in the room trembled. A faint, invisible pressure spread outward—something far beyond what a newborn should possess.
Then it vanished.
Zareth closed his eyes again.
"…A mistake."
Fifteen years passed.
The world moved on, just as it always did.
But Zareth never forgot.
The gates of the Demon King Academy stood tall, radiating power and authority. Hundreds of young demons gathered outside, each one carrying pride in their bloodlines.
Noble heirs.
Elite warriors.
Future rulers.
Among them stood a single boy in a simple black uniform.
Zareth Voidragon.
"…So this is the academy."
His voice was quiet, almost uninterested.
Students nearby glanced at him.
"Who is that?"
"I've never seen him before."
"No aura… is he even a demon?"
Soft laughter spread through the crowd.
Zareth ignored them completely.
To him, they were no different than background noise.
Inside the academy hall, a massive crystal stood at the center.
It pulsed with magical energy.
An instructor stepped forward.
"This is your entrance test," he announced. "Place your hand on the crystal and release your mana. It will measure your potential."
One by one, students stepped forward.
Bright flashes filled the room.
Some produced flames.
Others created waves of energy.
Applause followed the stronger displays.
Eventually—
"Next."
Zareth's turn.
He walked forward slowly, his footsteps echoing in the silent hall.
Some students smirked.
"Let's see this nobody fail."
Zareth stopped in front of the crystal.
He looked at it for a moment.
"…This again."
A faint sigh escaped his lips.
He raised his hand—
—and touched the crystal.
He didn't release his full power.
Not even close.
Just a thought.
Just a fraction.
CRACK.
A sharp sound echoed through the hall.
The crystal trembled.
Then—
SHATTERED.
Pieces fell to the ground like broken glass.
Silence.
Absolute silence.
The instructor's eyes widened.
"…What?"
Students stared in disbelief.
"That's impossible…"
"He didn't even chant a spell!"
Zareth lowered his hand as if nothing had happened.
"You used a defective tool," he said calmly.
"I was holding back."
The entire hall froze.
No one could process what they had just witnessed.
High above, on a balcony overlooking the hall…
A tall figure stood in the shadows.
Headmaster Valthor.
His sharp eyes were locked onto Zareth.
"…That presence…"
His expression darkened.
"No… it can't be."
As if sensing his gaze—
Zareth looked up.
Their eyes met.
For a brief moment…
Time itself seemed to stop.
Then—
Zareth smiled.
A faint, knowing smile.
"…So someone still remembers."
A chill ran down Valthor's spine.
And deep within the academy…
Something ancient began to stir.