"Elena, your child is breathing again—his life can be saved!"
The Heavenly Demon's eyes slowly opened. His vision was blurry, and muffled voices echoed around him, speaking in a language he didn't recognize.
"He opened his eyes! His life is no longer in danger—but why isn't he crying?"
What are these mongrels saying? he thought in confusion. Did the Myriad Epoch Reincarnation Technique actually work? Has my soul possessed a body from another realm?
As his vision cleared, he saw three women gathered around him. One looked to be in her twenties, her silver-gray hair cascading down her back like silk. The other two were older—perhaps in their fifties—wearing unfamiliar clothing unlike anything he'd ever seen.
"I'll call Paul and let him know his son is safe," one of the older women said gently. "Rest here and hold your child for a while." With that, she left the room.
The remaining old woman smiled softly and lifted him up with ease.
What!? How can this frail-looking old hag lift me so easily?
The Heavenly Demon tried to speak, but only the cry of an infant escaped his lips. Shocked, he raised his hands—ready to strike—but froze the moment he saw them.
Tiny. Soft. Weak.
They were the hands of a newborn baby.
Impossible… Did my soul possess a newborn!?
"Look at him go—how adorable," the young woman said warmly, smiling as the old lady passed the baby into her arms. She held him close, cradling him with tenderness.
A strange warmth welled up inside the Heavenly Demon's chest—an unfamiliar comfort that unsettled him.
What is this feeling…? Unhand me, filthy mongrel! he shouted in his mind, though all that came out was a series of unintelligible baby sounds.
The two women giggled at the sight, but their laughter ceased when the door burst open. A man rushed in, worry etched across his face. He looked young—handsome, about the same age as the woman holding the Heavenly Demon.
"How's our baby, honey?" he asked anxiously.
"He's fine, dear. Look—he's even more energetic than I am," the woman replied with a smile.
The man exhaled deeply in relief, then walked over and kissed her forehead.
"Thank you, Auntie," he said to the older woman. "Please, rest now. We'll take care of the rest."
"Make sure your wife and child get plenty of rest," the old woman said sternly. "And don't forget to give your son a proper name."
"Yes, Auntie," the man replied. The old woman nodded and left the room, leaving only the three of them behind.
For a moment, silence filled the space. Then—
The man suddenly leaned in and kissed the woman's lips.
"Dear, stop that—our baby's watching!" she whispered, blushing.
But the man didn't stop. He deepened the kiss, holding her close.
"Don't worry, honey. He's just a baby," he murmured between kisses. "Hmm… what should we name him?"
"How can I think of a name when you're doing that?" she said, half-laughing, half-protesting.
"Then we'll think about it later," the man teased.
The Heavenly Demon stared in disbelief, speechless.
What in the hell are these shameless mortals doing in my presence? Stop this nonsense immediately! he tried to roar, but only a loud baby's cry came out.
The two adults stopped, startled.
"Hmm… looks like he's hungry, hon," the man said, scratching his head.
...
...
...
In the blink of an eye, fifteen years had passed—years that felt both fleeting and eternal.
"Dad, tomorrow's my first trial, right?" asked a young man as he swung his sword toward his father. The youth was none other than the reincarnated Heavenly Demon, now known in this world as Leon Dravenholt.
"Yeah, make sure you do your best tomorrow and come back to us safely," the man said, effortlessly blocking each of Leon's strikes. "With your swordsmanship, martial arts skill, and sharp mind, I'm certain you'll pass the first trial."
The man was Leon's father—Paul Dravenholt.
Leon had learned much during his time in this modern world. Unlike his previous life, where Mystical Energy served as the essence of all living things—the very breath of existence—this realm possessed no such force. Here, life revolved around a different power— the Aether Core.
The Aether Core was the heart of one's strength and potential. It came in ten primary colors, each representing a level of mastery: white, cyan, yellow, dark blue, green, purple, orange, red, gray, and finally, black—the mark of those who stood at the very peak.
However, one could not simply awaken an Aether Core. To obtain it, every person had to face the First Trial of the Gods—a divine punishment imposed upon humanity for their ancient sins. At the age of fifteen, each individual was cast into this trial.
Failure meant death… and something far worse. The monsters that dwelled within the trial would break free into the physical world, bringing chaos and slaughter to all in their path. Ironically, these abominations were called Angels.
"Let's end this here," Paul said with a smile, parrying Leon's final strike before countering with a swift swing of his wooden sword that struck Leon squarely on the head.
"Ouch!" Leon yelped in pain. Ever since Paul had begun teaching him the swordsmanship of this world, Leon hadn't managed to win a single match against his father. Even the Heavenly Demon Sword Technique—passed down for generations within the Demonic Cult—was useless before Paul's sword mastery.
Paul Dravenholt was no ordinary man. By the age of seventeen, he had earned the acknowledgment of Aresvald, the God of War himself, and was granted an honorary divine title—the Sword God.
Each title bestowed by the gods is classified into six ranks: Mortal, Earth, Heaven, Divine, and finally, the highest—Mythical Rank. The gods grant these titles to mortals who either impress them or provide great entertainment. Naturally, receiving a divine title offers immense blessings—enhancing one's strength, sharpening one's skills, and granting the power to help you overcome you're next trial's.
"Breakfast is ready!" a woman's voice called out to Paul and Leon from a distance. It was Elena—Leon's mother, her tone gentle yet full of life.
"Let's go eat," Paul said, a warm smile spreading across his face. "We'll talk about everything that might happen during your first trial."
"Yes, Dad," Leon replied softly.
Over the years, he had grown accustomed to this new world—its warmth, its simplicity, its fragile beauty. He had learned what it meant to live not for power, but for love. His parents had shown him a kind of affection he had never known before, and under their care, the once cold heart of the Heavenly Demon began to melt away.
He loved them deeply—so deeply that he vowed never to call himself the Heavenly Demon again. From this day forward, he would live not as the terror of his past life, but as Leon Dravenholt, the beloved son of Paul and Elena Dravenholt.