Somewhere in the Higher Realm…
Eight powerful beings stood in a circle, their divine presence filling the sky as they cornered a man with silver hair, clad in white and crimson robes. In his hands was a large, ancient tome—its dark energy pulsing with chaotic power.
One of the gods stepped forward. "Demon God, your reign has lasted over a thousand years. We, the Higher Gods, never wished for conflict, but we can't let you keep that tome. It belongs to the Dragon God of Time and Space, the Great Zypher."
The silver-haired man let out a cold laugh. "You so-called gods… too scared to face me alone, so you band together? Eight of you just to stop me?" His eyes gleamed with fury. "This Demonic Tome belongs to me—the Demon God of Chaos. I won't hand it over to self-righteous cowards."
The god wrapped in a fiery red aura narrowed his eyes. "Then don't blame us for what comes next."
In unison, the eight gods unleashed a devastating divine attack. The heavens shook, light and energy tearing through the realm. The Demon God, already weakened, had no choice.
"I didn't want to use this… but you leave me no choice," he growled.
He opened the Demonic Tome, and a blinding light exploded outward, swallowing everything in its path. The eight gods, straining to their limits, managed to block the attack with their combined power.
But when the light faded, the Demon God was gone.
"Did he die?" one god asked.
The one in green aura replied, "Hard to say… but it's unlikely he survived. Still, it's a shame. We couldn't retrieve the tome."
And with that, the gods returned to the heavens, leaving behind silence where a fierce battle had raged.
---
Somewhere in the Lower Realm…
Three men were dragging a ragged sack up a tall hill. One of them whispered, "Let's dump him here. No one survives a fall like this—not even with the luck of a hundred lives."
"Agreed. Let's leave quietly. We'll get our reward once everything settles down."
They shoved the sack off the cliff and ran, disappearing into the night.
Far below, the sack hit the ground with a heavy thud… and then moved.
Moments later, a hand emerged, pushing the sack open.
"Those damn gods… I'll kill them one day," a voice growled.
The man slowly sat up, confusion in his eyes. "Wait… I'm alive? Where is this place?"
He looked down at his hands, his clothes—everything felt different. He stumbled toward a nearby river to wash his face, but what he saw in the water left him frozen.
"Who the hell is this?!"
He stared at the unfamiliar face staring back at him, then took a deep breath and focused his mind. With what little power he had left, he began to recall.
Fragments of memory returned—this body belonged to Alaric Ravenshade, the eldest son of Duke Ravenshade. His mother was a former maid and the Duke's first love, but Alaric was known as a disgrace, the laughingstock of a noble house famed for its strength.
According to the memories, Alaric had been kidnapped while walking in the garden… and then killed.
"I see… so this is his body now. And I've taken his place."
He stood in silence, thinking.
"If that's true, then the Duke's current wife must be behind it. With me—no, with him—out of the way, her son becomes the heir. Even if she didn't kill him, this fool would've been cast aside eventually."
He clenched his fists.
"No matter. I'll uncover the truth later. For now, I need to return to the Duke's estate."
The Demon God of Chaos—now in the body of Alaric Ravenshade—began walking toward his new life in the lower world, the weight of vengeance and purpose burning in his heart.
Alaric stood before the grand gates of the Ravenshade mansion. In the past, the guards, the maids—everyone—used to look down on him. He was just the quiet, useless first son of the Duke. But now, it wasn't the same Alaric. It was the Demon God of Chaos in a human shell.
He walked toward the gate with steady steps.
"Open the gate," he ordered.
The guards flinched. This was not the same boy who used to shuffle in with his head down. His voice was firm, his eyes sharp. Still, they didn't dare question him and opened the gate in silence.
Once he passed through, they turned to whisper.
"Wasn't he missing for a whole day? I thought he was dead."
Inside the mansion, the maids glanced at him with judgmental eyes.
"He left without a word and made the Lady worry all night," one said.
"He does whatever he wants. I wish the second young master would inherit instead," another muttered.
Alaric heard it all—but he didn't care. He wasn't just Alaric anymore. He was the Demon God, reborn in this world. And until he regained his power, he would remain here, in the human realm. First, he needed to understand how this world worked.
With calm steps, he made his way to the dining hall. The Duke, the Duchess, and his younger half-brother, Ivar, were already eating.
The Duchess blinked in surprise when she saw him. She had sent a man to kill him—but here he was, very much alive.
"Where were you yesterday?" she asked, keeping her voice composed. "We were all so worried."
Alaric gave a faint smirk.
"I was just playing with some wild dogs. Got bored. I figured it's time I spoke to their owner—maybe they can teach them some manners next time."
Her smile stiffened, but she said nothing.
He took a seat and calmly joined the meal. The Duke remained silent, watching the scene unfold like a play.
After a while, Alaric looked up and spoke.
"Father, I want access to the Underground Vault."
The room fell silent.
The Duke stared at him, surprised. Alaric had never shown interest in anything before.
"You must be at least a third-rank knight or a third-circle mage to enter the vault," the Duke said firmly.
Alaric stood, his expression unreadable. As he reached the door, he spoke without turning back.
"Alright. I'll come back when I reach third circle."
Both the Duke and Ivar were stunned.
"What's he thinking?" Ivar muttered. "I've trained for seven years and I'm still only second rank. He's never trained a day in his life."
The Duke stood up.
"Enough. If you're done eating, go finish your work."