The sky rumbled as dark clouds swirled above, illuminated by streaks of violet lightning. The wind howled, carrying the scent of ozone and the weight of an impending clash. Two towering figures stood suspended in the sky, their presence commanding the battlefield below.
Nullish, the Storm Lord, stood firm. His side-swept black hair fluttered in the storm’s breeze, his sharp gaze locked onto the man before him. His long purple haori, embroidered with black flames and the title "Storm Lord" across the back, billowed with the shifting winds. Lightning crackled across his high-collared black tunic and pants, his glowing bandages pulsating with energy. His reinforced shinobi boots barely made a sound in the air, while his storm gauntlets, inscribed with ancient runes, hummed with raw power.
Facing him was a warrior of equal stature.
Rurailish, clad in spiked black armor lined with glowing red cracks, exuded an overwhelming aura of destruction. His tattered crimson cape flapped wildly behind him, his heavy gauntlets ending in claw-like fingers that looked capable of tearing through anything. His black hair, tied into a man bun with layered strands falling over his face, framed his piercing, disdainful gaze.
A smirk tugged at Rurailish’s lips.
"So, you still won’t give up, huh?" Nullish said, his voice steady despite the storm raging around them.
Rurailish scoffed, rolling his shoulders as embers flickered from the cracks in his armor. His voice carried both amusement and contempt.
"What else would I expect from my idiot big brother?"
Below them, the battlefield raged on. Soldiers clashed, steel meeting steel, magic erupting in bursts of flame, lightning, and ice. The ground trembled under the weight of battle, yet many warriors had paused, their eyes locked onto the sky where the legendary Storm Lord stood.
A man gasped, pointing upward.
"Oh… Storm Lord Nullish!"
Another spat on the ground, gripping his sword tighter.
"And he’s the traitor of our Hiroikku Kingdom!"
The storm rumbled louder, mirroring the tension in the air. The clash between the two brothers was inevitable.
The storm raged above, a furious symphony of thunder and lightning. Winds howled, tearing through the battlefield, scattering ash and debris. Amidst the chaos, two towering figures faced each other, their mana surging like an impending calamity.
Nullish stood firm, his side-swept black hair dancing in the storm’s embrace. His violet haori, emblazoned with black flames and "Storm Lord" on the back, billowed violently. Lightning arced across his high-collared tunic, his glowing bandages pulsating with energy. Power crackled around his storm gauntlets, runes glowing brighter as he gathered mana into his hands.
His golden eyes, filled with unwavering determination, locked onto the man before him.
"Alright then… for the kingdom, you will die."
Across from him, Rurailish scoffed, his crimson cape whipping behind him. His spiked black armor, lined with glowing red cracks, pulsed with ominous energy. His clawed gauntlets flexed, releasing embers into the storm.
"I don’t accept this! You can’t trust me, brother?"
Nullish’s gaze didn’t waver.
"We’ll see. Prove it."
Rurailish clenched his fists.
"If you can’t trust me, then so be it."
Dark energy surged around him as he gathered mana. The sky trembled, responding to the overwhelming power of the two warriors.
Then, they clashed.
The impact shook the heavens.
But before their blows could land—
A force unlike anything they had ever felt erupted between them.
A dark presence.
A pressure so immense it forced them both apart.
And then, he appeared.
A figure materialized in the space between them, standing in midair as if the sky itself bowed to his presence.
He was a being of nightmares.
A Demon Lord.
His black hair, cut in a wild wolf-cut, shimmered with streaks of silver and red. His high-collared black coat, embroidered with dark silver patterns, billowed despite the stillness of the air. Spiked obsidian armor clung to his towering frame, glowing cracks lining its surface like veins of molten darkness. A long, tattered black cape, embroidered with blood-red sigils, trailed behind him. His clawed gauntlets bore demonic runes, pulsating with power, and his armored boots radiated an aura of absolute dominance.
Resting upon his head was a sinister crown—twisted, jagged, almost alive. Shadows curled around him like living tendrils, whispering unspeakable horrors.
Nullish and Rurailish instinctively recoiled.
"A Demon Lord…?" they uttered in unison.
The being smirked.
"Interesting."
Then, his eyes gleamed with malice.
"Destroyed."
BOOM! BOOM!
A cataclysmic blast erupted from him, engulfing the kingdom below.
Screams filled the air, only to be drowned out by the roar of destruction. Buildings crumbled. The land itself shattered. The once-proud Hiroikku Kingdom was swallowed by an all-consuming inferno.
A kingdom erased in a heartbeat.
Far from the battlefield...
A woman lay on the ground, her body shielding a newborn child.
Her long, silky black hair, streaked with silver, was tied in a loose ponytail, strands clinging to her sweat-drenched face. Her warm amber eyes, usually filled with kindness, were now clouded with fear and exhaustion.
She wore a dark blue kimono embroidered with silver storm clouds, and flowing black hakama pants that allowed ease of movement. A silver pendant, shaped like a lightning bolt, rested against her chest, glimmering faintly in the dying light.
In her arms, a tiny infant stirred.
His soft, jet-black hair held faint silver streaks. His deep amber eyes, barely open, flickered with life. Though small and underweight, his tiny hands moved restlessly, his cries strong and defiant.
He was wrapped in a warm blue swaddle with orange trim—colors symbolizing his future.
Then—
A shadow loomed over them.
The woman’s breath caught in her throat.
She looked up.
And there he stood.
The Demon Lord.
"You… are…" she whispered, her voice trembling.
A chuckle rumbled from him.
"Oh? You’re still alive?" His gaze drifted to the infant.
Then, his lips curled into a cruel grin.
"Your child's mana… I like it. I will take it."
Her arms tightened around the baby.
"I won’t let you!" she declared.
The Demon Lord raised a hand. A surge of dark energy crackled in his palm.
A heartbeat later, he unleashed it.
She barely had time to react before the blast consumed her.
The world blurred. Pain seared through her body.
And then—silence.
The Demon Lord stepped forward, unfazed, and placed a clawed hand against the baby’s chest.
The infant whimpered, glowing as his mana was forcefully extracted.
The Demon Lord smirked.
"I won’t kill you… but I’ll bring you near death."
With a flick of his fingers, a dark portal opened beneath the child.
In an instant, the newborn vanished—teleported far away, his fragile body drifting down a raging river.
Meanwhile…
On the battlefield, Nullish and Rurailish lay in ruins.
Their bodies were drenched in blood. Their strength had left them.
The storm howled above.
Then, amidst the wreckage, the Demon Lord descended.
He gazed at them with cold amusement.
Nullish forced himself to speak.
"Why… why are you doing this…?"
The Demon Lord chuckled.
"Because I can."
Then, he rose into the sky, his arms outstretched.
A single word left his lips—
"Destroyed."
The kingdom of Hiroikku ceased to exist.
Elsewhere…
The night was silent, save for the rushing river.
A tiny figure floated downstream, his small body wrapped in a tattered blue swaddle.
His cries—weak, yet unyielding—echoed into the darkness.
Demon Lord’s Castle
Darkness loomed over the Demon Lord’s throne, shadows shifting like living creatures in the dimly lit hall. Seated upon his obsidian seat, the Demon Lord rested his chin on his clawed hand, his crimson eyes gleaming with amusement.
"I doubt that child survived."
His voice echoed through the grand hall, filled with cold certainty.
By the River
A lone child trudged along the muddy banks of a rushing river, his small frame barely able to carry the tiny infant wrapped in his arms. His clothes were tattered—a dirty, oversized t-shirt clinging to his thin body, and a pair of torn shorts that barely reached his knees. His short, unkempt hair stuck to his forehead, damp with sweat and dirt.
His bare feet ached with every step, but he didn’t stop.
The baby in his arms, wrapped in a worn blue swaddle, stirred slightly, letting out a weak cry. The boy held him closer, whispering softly.
"It’s okay… we’ll find a place."
Hours passed before the boy finally reached the towering gates of Leaf Life Kingdom.
Two guards stood at the entrance, their spears crossed in front of the gate.
"Halt! Where do you think you're going, kid?" one of them barked, eyeing the filthy child with suspicion.
The boy flinched, his grip tightening around the baby.
Before he could answer, the second guard, an older man with kind eyes, placed a hand on his fellow soldier’s shoulder.
"Let him through. He’s just a poor child."
The first guard hesitated, then sighed.
"Fine. Go on, kid."
The boy nodded and stepped forward, carefully cradling the infant as he passed through the gates.
A Small Home in the Slums
The house was small, barely more than a single cramped room with a thin mattress and a flickering candle providing the only light. Despite its poor condition, it was warm—a safe haven compared to the cold world outside.
A baby girl lay wrapped in a soft white swaddle decorated with light blue wave-like patterns.
She had soft, wavy silver hair that shimmered faintly under the candlelight, as if catching the moon’s glow. Her gentle sky-blue eyes reflected the dim light like rippling water, filled with silent curiosity. Unlike most newborns who cried loudly, she simply observed the world, her tiny fingers curling and uncurling before she let out a quiet, delicate whimper.
The boy knelt beside her, placing the baby boy carefully beside her. He watched them both for a moment, his tired eyes softening.
Then, he spoke.
"I am Heroic," he said with quiet determination, as if reassuring himself of his own existence.
His gaze shifted to the baby girl, and he smiled.
"You are my little sister, Sayaka."
Then, his eyes fell on the baby boy.
"But… I don’t know your name."
He thought for a moment before gently patting the baby’s chest.
"When you turn five years old, you can choose your own name."
The room was silent, save for the quiet breathing of the three children.
Somewhere beyond the slums, the kingdom continued its bustling life, unaware that the fate of the world had just been placed in the hands of these lost children.
---
The savory scent of breakfast filled the Heroic House as Sayaka stood by the stove, carefully preparing the meal. Meanwhile, on the other side of the room, Kibotohikari was doing push-ups—but not just any push-ups. His face was twisted into a ridiculous, almost comical expression as he pushed himself up and down with exaggerated effort.
Just then, Heroic walked into the room, rubbing his eyes. His sharp, storm-gray gaze landed on Kibotohikari’s face, and his expression twisted in confusion.
“Kiboto… what happened to your face?”
Kibotohikari froze mid-push-up. A beat of silence passed before he scrambled to his feet and bolted toward the nearest mirror.
“What happened!?” he shouted, his reflection confirming the absurdity of his expression. His shock was so over-the-top it looked like he had seen a ghost.
Before he could react further—WHAM!
A frying pan smacked the top of his head.
“Gaaah!” Kibotohikari jumped, clutching his head. “What was that for, Sayaka?!”
Sayaka, who stood behind him holding the pan, huffed and crossed her arms. A faint blush colored her cheeks.
“Idiot Kibotohikari!” she snapped.
Kibotohikari’s eyes watered as he rubbed the sore spot on his head. “Whaaat did I dooo?” he whined dramatically.
Sayaka looked away, her blush deepening. “Why aren’t you wearing a shirt, you idiot?!”
Kibotohikari blinked and looked down at himself—sure enough, his torso was bare, his toned muscles on full display. “Oh.”
As the two continued their bickering, Heroic leaned against the wall, watching them with an unreadable expression. He wasn’t really paying attention to their argument. Instead, his thoughts drifted as he observed them.
Kibotohikari had grown a lot over the years.
His jet-black hair, streaked with silver, remained as wild as ever.
His deep amber eyes still carried that faint glow whenever he activated Overdrive Mode.
He wore his signature blue short-sleeved zip-up jacket with an orange collar and trims, paired with black, knee-length ninja pants, and a white bandage wrap on his right thigh.
Sayaka, too, had changed.
Her long, wavy silver hair was now tied in a loose side ponytail, secured with a delicate blue ribbon.
Her sky-blue eyes shimmered like the ocean, reflecting her strong water magic.
She wore a light blue sleeveless tunic with elegant white wave patterns, fastened with a silver sash. Her dark blue knee-length skirt with silver embroidery swayed gently, and her white leggings peeked out beneath it. A silver seashell pendant rested against her chest, a cherished keepsake.
And as for himself—
Heroic exhaled and glanced at his reflection in the window.
At 17 years old, he had matured quite a bit.
His short, messy dark blue hair now carried streaks of silver.
His storm-gray eyes had grown sharper, reflecting the experiences he had gained.
He wore a black jacket over a white t-shirt, paired with white pants and red shoes.
“Kiboto, Sayaka.”
“Hm?” They both turned to him.
Heroic shook his head. “It’s nothing.”
Kibotohikari stretched his arms. “Alright, then! I’m heading outside!”
“Wait for me!” Sayaka called, quickly following him.
The two left the house and made their way into the forest.
There, under the open sky, Kibotohikari began practicing his fighting techniques, his movements sharp and precise. Not far from him, Sayaka stood near a stream, gracefully manipulating the water with her magic.
Sayaka stole a glance at him and hesitated before speaking.
“…Have you figured out why you don’t have mana yet?”
Kibotohikari’s fist stopped mid-strike. His expression faltered for a brief moment before he sighed.
“Nope…”
The mystery remained.
But for now, their training continued.
The golden hues of the evening sky painted the horizon as Kibotohikari and Sayaka walked along the dirt path leading to their house. Just ahead, a grand kingdom loomed in the distance, its towering walls and gleaming spires standing tall against the setting sun.
Sayaka’s eyes sparkled with wonder. "Did you see that, Kiboto?"
Kibotohikari grinned. "Yeah! Look at all the delicious food they have over there!"
SMACK!
A sharp pain shot through his head as Sayaka’s fist connected with full force.
"I said kingdom, not food, you idiot!" she scolded, puffing out her cheeks.
Kibotohikari rubbed the sore spot and chuckled sheepishly. "Oh… right. My bad."
Sayaka folded her arms, still gazing at the distant kingdom. "One day, I want to go there."
Kibotohikari clenched his fist and grinned. "One day, we will go!" he declared loudly, raising his voice with determination.
WHAM!
Another punch landed squarely on his face.
Sayaka sighed. "Keep your voice down, you idiot."
Night – At Heroic’s House
The warm glow of lanterns flickered in the small dining area as Kibotohikari, Sayaka, and Heroic sat around the table, enjoying their meal.
Heroic glanced at Kibotohikari’s bruised face and raised an eyebrow. "What happened to you, Kiboto?"
Kibotohikari let out a hearty laugh. "Nothing happened, bro! Hahaha!"
Sayaka, sitting across from him, turned away, her cheeks slightly red.
"Idiot…" she mumbled under her breath.
After finishing their meal, they each retreated to their rooms. Kibotohikari and Sayaka, as usual, ended up sharing a bed.
The soft moonlight streamed through the window, casting gentle shadows as the two drifted off to sleep.
Morning – The Struggle Begins
The aroma of freshly cooked food filled the house as Sayaka busied herself in the kitchen. The sun had barely risen, yet she was already preparing breakfast.
After setting everything on the table, she cupped her hands around her mouth and yelled, "Kibotoooo!"
A muffled groan came from the bedroom. Kibotohikari, still half-asleep, groggily sat up, his messy hair sticking out in all directions. With heavy steps, he dragged himself to the sink, splashed cold water on his face, and slumped into his seat.
Sayaka sat across from him, arms crossed. "Today’s a school day. I think you remember that, right?"
Kibotohikari took a bite of his food, chewing slowly. "I’m not going."
Sayaka’s brow twitched. "What did you just say?"
He sighed. "You already know why… School is all about magic, and I don’t have any mana. So what’s the point of going?"
Sayaka narrowed her eyes.
"You are going."
"No, I’m not."
A tense silence filled the room. Then, with a flick of her wrist, Sayaka conjured several glowing water orbs, each floating menacingly around her.
"Say that again," she said sweetly, but there was a dangerous edge to her voice.
Kibotohikari gulped.
"I-I’ll go!"
The Flight to School
Outside, Sayaka mounted her broomstick, adjusting her grip as she prepared for takeoff. Kibotohikari stood beside her, arms crossed, looking uncertain.
"Wait… Sayaka, are you seriously expecting me to ride with you?"
Sayaka smirked. "And what do you want instead?"
"N-nothing! Never mind!"
With that, he reluctantly climbed onto the broomstick behind her. The moment he grabbed onto her waist for support, Sayaka kicked off the ground.
The broom soared into the sky, the wind rushing past them as they flew toward their school.
Kibotohikari clenched his eyes shut. "W-why does it feel like you’re going faster than usual?!"
Sayaka just giggled. "Oh? Is it too fast for you?"
Kibotohikari gritted his teeth. "I swear you’re doing this on purpose!"
The two continued their high-speed journey through the morning sky, heading toward another day at school.
Kibotohikari staggered forward, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps. His body ached, his muscles burning from the exhaustion of the morning’s training.
Beside him, Sayaka let out a sigh of relief. "Oh, we finally made it," she said, adjusting the strap of her school bag.
Kibotohikari straightened up, forcing a grin. "Yeah… I feel like I just traveled to heaven. But I’m fine! Thank God I didn’t die!"
Sayaka raised an eyebrow. "What did you just say, Kiboto?"
He waved her off. "Nothing important, Sayaka."
With that, they stepped into the classroom.
The moment they entered, a murmur spread through the students. It wasn’t about Kibotohikari, though—it was all about Sayaka.
"She’s so pretty," one of the boys whispered.
Another nudged his friend. "Is that her boyfriend?"
A third boy scoffed. "No way. That’s her brother. And he doesn’t even have magic."
Laughter rippled through the group.
Kibotohikari clenched his fists but said nothing. He had heard it all before. He had no magic. He didn’t belong. It didn’t matter how hard he trained or how strong he became—people always looked down on him. But he refused to let it get to him. With a deep breath, he kept walking.
From a short distance away, Sayaka overheard the mocking laughter. Her gaze drifted to Kibotohikari’s back as he walked ahead, completely unfazed.
(I don’t want him to be just my brother… I want—)
Her cheeks flushed a deep red at the sudden thought.
Kibotohikari glanced back at her. "What’s wrong, Sayaka? Your face is all red."
She quickly shook her head. "It’s nothing!"
Meanwhile, the group of boys continued to snicker behind them.
Sayaka’s expression darkened. Without hesitation, she turned on her heel and walked straight up to them.
Her voice was sharp and unwavering. "Why are you making fun of him? Is it because he has no magic? Or are you just jealous?"
The group fell silent, caught off guard by her sudden challenge.
Before any of them could stammer a response, the school bell rang. The chatter died down as students hurried to their seats.
As Kibotohikari sat down, he allowed himself a small smirk.
(Sayaka… you’re always so blunt.)
Even if the world looked down on him, at least he knew one thing for sure—he wasn’t alone.
The morning sunlight streamed through the classroom windows as Mr. Kenzo, the history teacher, stepped inside. He placed his books on the desk and greeted the students with a warm smile.
"Good morning, my students."
In the second row, Kibotohikari leaned back in his chair, arms crossed behind his head. A mischievous grin tugged at his lips as he announced,
"This is our teacher, Kenzo."
From the next seat over, Sayaka turned to him with a curious tilt of her head.
"What about you, Kiboto?"
Kibotohikari blinked once, then shrugged. "Nothing."
Sayaka sighed. "You're impossible."
Kenzo ignored their banter and tapped the chalk against the board. "Today, we will be learning about the history of our Magic Knights and the kingdoms of Aetheria."
He turned to the class and continued, his voice steady and clear.
"We live in Aetheria, specifically in the Leaf Life Kingdom. However, Aetheria is divided into four great kingdoms, each ruled by a powerful Storm Lord."
He listed them one by one, writing their names on the board.
Leaf Life Kingdom – Ruled by Storm Lord Zephyros
Hiroikku Kingdom – Ruled by Storm Lord Kaito
Nature Kingdom – Ruled by Storm Lord Kaiden
Snow Kingdom – Ruled by Storm Lord Snowrose, the first woman to become a Storm Lord
As Kenzo spoke, a student in the front row eagerly raised his hand.
"Mr. Kenzo! Can you tell us how the first Storm Lords were created?"
Kenzo chuckled. "Ah, an excellent question."
Meanwhile, Kibotohikari was already nodding off, his head drooping toward his desk. Just as he was about to drift into sleep—
Smack!
A sharp punch landed on his arm.
"Ow! Why did you hit me?!" Kibotohikari whined, rubbing his shoulder.
Sayaka narrowed her eyes at him. "Because you're supposed to be paying attention!"
Kenzo shot them both a look, adjusting his glasses. "Listen carefully, Kibotohikari."
Kibotohikari groaned. "Yes, sir..."
Kenzo resumed his tale, his voice carrying the weight of legend.
"A long time ago, the land of Aetheria was engulfed in war. The four great kingdoms fought against the demons in a battle that seemed endless. One by one, our warriors fell, and soon, only four remained standing. They were battered, bleeding, and on the verge of death. But just as all hope seemed lost, a divine being descended from the heavens."
The classroom fell silent, every student listening intently.
"Instead of destroying the demons, the god chose a different path. With immense power, he extracted half of the demons' mana and sealed it within an artifact—a ring known as the Onyx Hellring."
Gasps filled the room. Even Kibotohikari sat up straighter.
**"The demons, now weakened, had no choice but to retreat. And the four warriors who had stood their ground were given a title—Storm.
These warriors hailed from different kingdoms, yet together, they shaped the world we live in today."
Kenzo turned back to the board, writing their names as he spoke.
Ike from Hiroikku Kingdom
Yukaito from Leaf Life Kingdom
Hiro from Nature Kingdom
Rioz from Snow Kingdom
"When the war ended, these four warriors became the first Storm Lords, ruling their respective kingdoms."
Sayaka raised her hand.
"Yes, Sayaka?" Kenzo called on her.
"What happened to the ring?"
A shadow crossed the teacher’s face. "No one knows the full story. But legend says the Demon Lord took possession of it."
Just then, the school bell rang, signaling the end of class.
Scene Change: Demon Castle
A dark and foreboding castle loomed under the blood-red sky. Deep inside its grand chamber, the Demon Lord sat on his throne, his piercing crimson eyes fixed on the artifact in his hand—
The Onyx Hellring.
____
The sinister glow of the ring pulsed with untold power. The Demon Lord smirked, his fingers tightening around it.
"I do not need mere mana…" he murmured, his voice like a whisper of death. "What I need… is a twelve-year-old."
The school bell rang, signaling the start of break time.
"Finally! Break time!" Kibotohikari shouted, throwing his hands up in excitement. His loud voice echoed across the classroom, drawing the attention of his classmates.
A few students sitting nearby exchanged glances and muttered among themselves.
"Tch. What a loudmouth," one student scoffed.
"Yeah… and totally useless," another whispered.
"Can you believe he has no mana?"
"Of course. Everyone knows already."
Across the room, Kibotohikari's sharp ears picked up their words. His eyebrow twitched. "Huh? Are they talking about me?"
Sayaka, sitting at her desk, glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. Her cheeks reddened slightly as she watched his determined expression.
He’s kinda cool… she thought.
Then, without warning, Kibotohikari jumped onto his desk.
"Listen up, everyone!" he declared, pointing at the ceiling. "I’ll prove to all of you that I can defeat anyone—even without magic!"
Silence filled the room.
Sayaka sighed, placing a hand on her forehead.
And he’s dumb too…
She clenched her fist and punched Kibotohikari straight in the face. His head jerked back, and a bright red mark appeared on his cheek.
“OW! What was that for?!” he whined.
Before Sayaka could answer, the classroom door slid open with a loud thud. A tall, strict-looking teacher stood in the doorway, arms crossed.
“Kibotohikari,” the teacher said, his tone firm. “Go stand outside.”
Kibotohikari blinked. “Huh? What did I do?”
The teacher’s eyes narrowed.
“…Okay, okay, I’m going.” With a sigh, Kibotohikari trudged toward the door, rubbing his sore cheek.
Sayaka watched him leave, shaking her head.
Maybe he’s cool… but he’s still an idiot.
The school bell rang, signaling the end of the day. As the chime echoed through the halls, students eagerly packed their belongings and made their way home.
Among them was Kibotohikari, who stretched his arms high above his head, grinning from ear to ear.
"Finally, freedom!"
He dashed out of the classroom, practically bouncing with excitement.
"You're acting like a little kid," Sayaka muttered, rolling her eyes as she followed behind him.
"Hey, don’t ruin my moment!" Kibotohikari shot back, puffing his chest out. "After a long, grueling day of school, even the strongest warrior deserves a break!"
Sayaka sighed. And he's an idiot, too.
The two climbed onto their broomsticks, the wind rushing past them as they soared through the sky toward home.
Meanwhile, in the Demon Castle…
Deep within the Demon Lord’s fortress, an ominous presence stirred. The dim glow of torches cast flickering shadows across the stone walls as the ruler of darkness gazed into a floating magic sphere.
For centuries, he had searched for a specific child—one born without mana. And now, his search had finally come to an end.
The image in the sphere shifted, revealing the face of a black-haired boy.
The Demon Lord’s lips curled into a smirk.
"So, you're the one… The boy who miraculously survived when I stole his mana."
He leaned forward, his crimson eyes narrowing.
"You should have died back then, and yet, here you are. Fate is cruel indeed… or perhaps, kind. Either way, you will serve me."
As he watched more fragments of the past flicker before him, his expression darkened. Then—his eyes widened in realization.
"Wait… That boy’s mother—no, that means…!"
His grip on the throne’s armrest tightened, the sheer force causing cracks to spread across the dark stone.
"So… kid is still alive."
Memories of the past resurfaced—memories of the strongest traitor to the demon race. The one who had defied him.
Not only had rullish son heroic survived, but he had protected this worthless, no-mana child.
"This means he has grown even stronger…"
The Demon Lord’s voice echoed through the chamber. "Come forth."
In an instant, the air rippled as a figure emerged from the shadows.
A girl stepped forward, her long, wavy sapphire-blue hair flowing like water, tied with a silver ribbon. Her deep sea-green eyes shimmered under the dim light. She wore a white, sleeveless tunic decorated with blue wave-like patterns, secured by a light blue sash. A dark blue, knee-length skirt adorned with silver embroidery resembling water currents covered her legs, paired with black leggings. Her silver armbands glowed faintly with water runes, and her sandals sparkled with blue gemstones.
She kneeled before him. "You summoned me, my lord?"
The Demon Lord waved his hand, and the image of Kibotohikari appeared in midair.
"You will go to Aetheria, Ayame and" he ordered. "Find this boy and bring him to me."
The girl studied the image with a calm, unreadable expression. "And what of the so-called heroes?"
The Demon Lord chuckled darkly, his eyes gleaming with malice. With a flick of his hand, another image appeared—one depicting the warriors of Aetheria.
"They are of no concern to you. Your mission is the boy," he said.
The girl nodded. "Understood."
With that, she vanished, disappearing into the darkness like a whisper in the wind.
The Demon Lord leaned back in his throne, a wicked grin stretching across his face.
"It’s only a matter of time, boy… Soon, you will belong to me."
To be continued…
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