HEAVENLY DEMON ASCENSION
It felt real. That was what he kept coming back to. The smell of this room felt real. The weight of this body felt real. The sound of that argument outside felt real in the specific, unremarkable way that real things felt.
His first life had been nothing but a bitter, endless struggle. He had lost the handful of people he truly cared about and had been completely helpless to stop it. Then, just when he finally gripped a slight sliver of hope to change his fate, it was violently ripped away, ending with him locked inside a forsaken underground archive.
For twenty-four years, he did what he could to survive. At first, he had hope, but the darkness faded it. He had a burning thirst for revenge, but the isolation snuffed it out. He had the will to live, but eventually, even that was forgotten in the dust of the old scrolls. He had become an empty vessel simply waiting for death.
And then, on his final day, he accidentally came across a dark red book.
The impossible conclusion settled over him like heavy snow. He had regressed.
At first, the mere thought felt completely ridiculous. But deep down, in some buried corner of his soul, this was the solitary dream he had prayed for during his darkest nights in the archive. As the decades had bled away, he had convinced himself that second chances didn't exist in a world as cruel as the Murim. There were no do-overs for a ruined life.
Yet, here he was. He didn't know what god or devil had granted this miracle, but as the heavy, dark presence pulsed faintly in his mind, he knew with absolute certainty that the book was the catalyst. It had sent him back.
