Darkness.
Thunder cracked across a blood-red sky. Mountains trembled. Firestorms swallowed the earth. At the center of it all, a towering figure stood upon a broken throne of obsidian, black wings stretched wide, his eyes glowing like twin stars of hellfire.
Azrakar, Demon King of the Ninth Circle.
"This world was mine," he snarled, voice deep as the abyss. Around him, his own generals—the Seven Infernal Lords—hovered, weapons drawn. Betrayal hung in the air like ash.
"Your rule has ended, Azrakar. The pact is broken," hissed one, her blade shimmering with divine light.
He laughed, bitter and proud. "Fools. You cannot kill what was never born."
The sky split open. A beam of pure celestial light struck him dead center.
His body burned. His soul screamed.
But before the light consumed him, he whispered:
"Even in death, I will return."
Present Day – Kyoto, Japan
Kazuki Arata stared at the rain-speckled window of Class 2-B, eyes unfocused. The teacher's voice droned in the background, but he wasn't listening. He never did.
He didn't see the point.
Another day, another bruise. Another whispered insult. Another empty lunchbox. The world moved around him like a carousel he'd long since stopped trying to ride.
The bell rang. Students surged out, laughing, chatting, making plans for a future Kazuki wasn't sure he'd be around to see.
He walked home alone, as always, until something strange caught his eye—a new bookstore on a street that had always been empty.
"Oblivion Tomes."
Curiosity tugged at him. The sign was crooked. The lights flickered. But something—something deep and ancient—pulled him inside.
Dust coated the shelves. Strange symbols lined the walls. An old man behind the counter watched him silently.
Kazuki's fingers brushed a leather-bound volume that pulsed faintly with warmth.
"Maō Tensei: Record of the Ninth Circle."
"Take it," the old man rasped. "You've already paid the price."
He opened it that night.
Words burned into his vision. Symbols danced. His head throbbed. Darkness swallowed him whole.
He stood in a void.
No floor. No sky. Just emptiness. And in the distance, a throne of fire.
A voice echoed: *"You are weak. Fragile. But you carry my soul."
A figure stepped forward. Tall. Horned. Majestic.
"We are Azrakar. And this world is not yet done with us."
Kazuki gasped and fell back into his body.
He awoke, drenched in sweat. His right eye glowed faintly red.
And deep within him, something stirred.
The next day, the bullies cornered him again behind the gym.
"You think you're better than us, freak?"
They pushed him.
Something snapped.
Black fire erupted from his palm.
The wall behind them exploded. Screams. Footsteps. Sirens.
Kazuki stood in the smoke, stunned, the fire flickering out.
On a rooftop nearby, a silver-haired girl in a dark cloak watched with narrowed eyes.
"He's returned," she whispered. "Azrakar lives."
Far above the city, in a cathedral that didn't exist yesterday, a voice echoed in cold chambers:
"The Demon King walks again. Protocol Exodus is active."
To be continued...