In the magnificent, sprawling castles of the Netherworld, a palpable tension hung in the air.
Four years had passed since the abrupt disappearance of the Demon King, Delkira.
The report from the royal guard was the only clue: a sudden, brilliant light, a strange summoning circle, and their king simply stepping into it and vanishing.
While Delkira was known for his unpredictable nature and frequent, unexplained absences, four years was unprecedented.
A heavy dread settled over the Thirteen Crowns, the most powerful and influential demons in the Netherworld.
Amduscias Poro, ever the emotional one, was in a state of utter panic.
"My Del-chan!" he wailed, flailing his arms in despair.
"Where in the Netherworld could he be? We've scoured every corner, every realm!"
Sullivan, Delkira's ever-loyal secretary, maintained a calm exterior, but his mind was a whirlwind of frantic calculations.
He had dedicated every waking moment to finding his friend, using his vast network and influence to search for any trace of Delkira's immense demonic signature, but there was nothing. It was as if their king had simply ceased to exist.
*******
Iruma's fourteenth birthday passed with the usual warmth of a family celebration. That evening, as they sat on the sofa, Delkira turned to Iruma, his expression serious.
"Iruma," he began,
"there's something I need to tell you. It's a story you need to hear, a story about where you truly come from."
Delkira started with the history of the Netherworld, a magnificent realm built on power and ambition. He spoke of the thirteen clans, each led by a mighty demon with a unique ability, known as a bloodline power.
These clans had once been at war, a chaotic time of constant struggle. It was out of this chaos that the Demon King emerged, a figure of absolute authority who united the clans and established a semblance of order.
He then explained the concept of verbal power and non-verbal power, where a demon's true strength lay in their ability to manipulate magic through their words or thoughts.
"I am that king, Iruma," Delkira said softly.
"And you... you are my son. Not just a human, but a half-demon. You possess a bloodline power, just as I do, and you have both human and demonic blood flowing through your veins."
Iruma listened, at first with a look of disbelief that slowly turned into one of pure shock.
'My dad has finally lost it', he thought, and a chill of fear ran down his spine.
But then, Delkira manifested a small, fiery orb in his hand, a vivid and undeniable display of magic that Iruma had only ever seen in fantasy movies. The orb swirled with an eerie, captivating energy, and it was at that moment that Iruma truly believed him.
The gravity of his father's words settled over Iruma like a heavy cloak.
The Netherworld, as Delkira described it, was a terrifying place for the weak, a society built on a strict hierarchy of strength and power. Iruma, with his sealed abilities and human naivety, would be utterly defenseless.
"I was going to wait until you were sixteen," Delkira explained,
"but I realized it's better to start your training now."
He began with the basics, teaching Iruma how to sense and manipulate the magic around him, starting with simple non-verbal power. The training was rigorous, demanding, and at times terrifying. Iruma, fueled by the fear of being weak in a strong world, absorbed every lesson like a sponge.
Delkira also made a rule: at home, they would only speak in the demon language. The strange, guttural words and complex grammar were a challenge, but Iruma applied himself, eager to master his dual heritage.
The world he once knew as normal was now a thin veil, and beneath it lay a reality far more dangerous and fantastical than he could have ever imagined.