Reborn as the Demon King's Weakest Son
Chapter 1: A Cursed Rebirth
Death wasn't the end. It was the beginning of my legend.
In my final moments, I was no one. A faceless student. No talents. No future. Just another soul swallowed by a fast-moving world. Then came the screech of tires, the blinding glare of headlights—
—and nothing.
No pearly gates. No fiery torment. Just cold silence.
Until I woke up.
Gasping. Screaming.
Bathed in black blood.
The pain was beyond anything I had ever known—like being torn from the womb of the universe and slammed into a world that rejected me.
"Pathetic."
The word cut through the haze, colder than steel. I lifted my eyes, vision blurred and trembling. A monstrous figure stood above me—taller than any human should be, with horns twisted like obsidian blades and eyes glowing with infernal fire.
An aura of ancient dominance rolled off him in waves, pressing me into the stone like gravity itself.
The Demon King.
Even without being told, I knew it. Deep in my soul, the knowledge echoed.
He was my father.
And I… was his son.
---
The Mark of the Weak
The fortress of Vorghast was built atop the bones of a fallen god, its towers blackened with eternal flame and shadow. Its walls hummed with ancient curses, and the floor beneath my feet seemed to breathe.
And I—Kael Arzur—had been reborn into this hellish kingdom.
But not as a hero.
As a disgrace.
"His mana core is fractured," the court sorcerer rasped, leaning on a staff made from a screaming soul. He tapped my chest with a bone finger, sneering. "He cannot form a stable channel. His magic is… defective."
A chorus of scoffs and laughter rippled through the throne room. Demonic nobles in crowns of teeth and cloaks of flayed skin watched with cruel delight.
A fractured mana core was a curse worse than death in this world. It meant no spells. No demonic transformations. No power.
Only weakness.
The Demon King's eyes were unreadable as he approached. His steps echoed like war drums.
"By Blood Moon's rise," he said, his voice like cracking stone, "you will prove your worth… or be cast into the Abyss."
No trial.
No mercy.
Only death.
---
The Hollow Prince
I was a prince by name only. My brothers—demon-born and forged in flame—mocked me at every turn. Especially Valac, the eldest. A warrior whose very presence made flames bow.
He beat me during training. Left me bleeding in the pits. All while the instructors looked on, unmoved.
"You should never have been reborn," he spat once, slamming my head into the arena floor. "You're a stain on our bloodline."
They wanted me to break.
I didn't.
Because behind the humiliation… behind the pain… burned a stubborn spark.
I remembered my old life.
How small I felt. How powerless. How easily forgotten.
Here, even if I was hated, I had a place. A purpose.
And I would carve my name into the world, even if I had to bleed for it
The Whisper in the Dark
One night, after another savage beating, I lay in the ruins of the training yard—bruised, broken, and barely conscious.
That's when I heard it.
"Do you want power, little prince?"
The voice slithered into my mind, ancient and alien.
From the shadows, something emerged—a formless mass of smoke and embers, a creature unbound by flesh. Its presence twisted the air, and its grin was far too wide for any face.
"A hollow core," it whispered. "How perfect. You're not broken, Kael. You're open."
"Who… what are you?" I managed.
"A forgotten god. A chained flame. I was once the breath of stars, now a whisper in the void." Its grin widened. "But you… you could be my vessel."
A beat passed.
I should have said no.
But all I saw were the faces of those who looked down on me. Laughed at me.
My father's cold indifference.
Valac's blade.
"You said power," I rasped. "What's the price?"
Its eyes—or what passed for eyes—glowed.
"Let me in."
---
Blood Awakening
At dawn, Vorghast trembled.
Storm clouds choked the skies. Flames surged in the towers. Even the abyss howled.
And I—Kael Arzur—stood in the training pit once more.
Valac sneered and strode toward me, sword drawn. His blade hissed with dark magic as he pressed it to my neck.
"Let's see if you bleed like a real prince," he growled.
I didn't answer.
Because something inside me was stirring.
My mana core—once cracked and useless—suddenly burned.
Like a sealed gate had burst open.
Valac raised his sword to strike.
But then—my blood ignited.
Flames of shadow erupted from my veins. Not fire. Not magic. Something deeper. Primordial.
Valac was hurled backward like a ragdoll, crashing into the stone wall with a roar.
I stood there, surrounded by a halo of flickering black fire.
Breathing. Smiling.
Power throbbed in every limb. Raw. Untamed. Mine.
I looked down at my hand, wreathed in flame.
And for the first time since my cursed rebirth—
I didn't feel weak.