The elegant chamber no longer resembled a prince's quarters.
Pillows and blankets had been stacked into crude barricades, a fortress of down and silk. The polished tables were shoved against the wall, teetering under the weight of scrolls and half-burned candles. Even the great bed—an artifact worth more than a noble estate—was buried beneath cushions scavenged for "experiments."
And in the center of the chaos sat a silver-haired boy, legs folded on the carpet, his golden eyes glittering with anticipation.
He pressed his palms together in mock seriousness.
"Asura Satomi," he declared, his voice carrying the kind of dramatic flair only a four-year-old could muster, "True Demon Lord, grandson of the Demon King… and now proud owner of a cheat system."
His grin widened, sharp and boyish. He puffed out his chest, then raised one hand skyward as if a spotlight shone just for him.
"Time for some experiments!"
The declaration echoed through the chamber, bouncing off the velvet curtains and marble walls.
Asura leaned forward, heart pounding. This is it. Every anime protagonist has this moment. The part where they realize their power isn't just numbers on a screen. It's real.
He rubbed his hands together. "Alright… which one first?"
His gaze flicked through the glowing menu only he could see, runes and words scrolling at his command. His golden eyes sparkled with the possibilities.
"Appraisal? Already tested. Storage? Oh, definitely! Teleportation? Maybe later—I don't want to materialize inside a wall and end my story in chapter three." He chuckled nervously. "Let's start with the safe stuff."
✦ Master Crafter
First on the list: Master Crafter.
Asura sat cross-legged on the carpet, drumming his small fingers against his knee as he stared at the glowing text.
Crafting… huh? That sounds harmless enough. I mean, compared to teleporting into solid rock or blasting holes in the castle wall, what's the worst that could happen?
He tilted his head, scanning the room for something he wouldn't mind breaking. His golden eyes landed on the food tray sitting lazily on his desk. Crumbs scattered across its surface, a half-empty cup of spiced milk still faintly steaming. And there, lying innocently beside the plate, was a spoon.
Plain. Dull. Ordinary.
"Perfect," he whispered, snatching it up. The cool metal felt light in his hand, unimpressive—something servants would toss into the wash without a second thought.
He raised it up, squinting. Okay, Master Crafter. Don't blow up in my face. Don't turn this into, like, a bomb or something.
He inhaled sharply, focusing on the word glowing in his mind. His lips moved softly.
"Craft."
The effect was instant.
The spoon pulsed with light, its gray surface bending and twisting as though it were alive. Metal warped, elongating, spiraling upward in a shower of sparks that fizzled and disappeared into nothingness. Glowing runes carved themselves across the forming blade, shifting symbols that burned with pale blue fire before searing into the steel.
The air itself hummed with resonance. A low, thrumming vibration filled the chamber, rattling the tables pushed against the wall. Asura's hair lifted faintly, silver strands floating in the charged mana.
And then, silence.
The spoon was gone.
In its place was a longsword.
It gleamed faintly, the blade etched with runes that pulsed in rhythm like a heartbeat. The edge glowed faintly, so sharp it seemed to slice the very air just by existing. The hilt fit perfectly into his small hand, wrapped in material that shimmered like dragon hide. It wasn't just a weapon—it was a masterpiece, the kind of artifact whispered about in taverns and sealed away in royal vaults.
Asura stared, his eyes wide, his jaw slack.
"…I just made a legendary sword out of a spoon."
His small arms trembled as he held it aloft, the weight perfectly balanced despite its impossible craftsmanship. The blade hummed softly, as though pleased to exist.
Testing it, he gave it the gentlest of swings—just enough to feel the weight.
Whoosh.
The air trembled. Curtains across the room split open with surgical precision, the velvet parting cleanly as if sliced by a master tailor's shears. The heavy fabric sagged, then tumbled to the floor in silence.
Asura froze. His breath caught in his throat. His golden eyes darted to the fallen curtain, then to the glowing blade in his hand.
"…Yeah. Okay. Maybe don't use this indoors."
His voice cracked, half-panicked, half in awe.
He glanced nervously at the door. If a servant walked in now and saw this? If his grandfather caught him carving up priceless furniture with a weapon born from a spoon? His shoulders tensed at the thought.
Quickly, he willed the weapon away. The runes along the blade flared brightly before dissolving into a storm of particles, scattering into the air like embers snuffed by the wind. In seconds, nothing remained but the faint scent of hot metal.
Asura sat there, staring at his empty hands. His chest rose and fell quickly, his mind racing.
Then, slowly, a grin spread across his lips.
"…I really did just make a legendary sword out of a spoon."
He leaned back, laughing softly, equal parts disbelieving and exhilarated.
"This skill is busted."
His laughter echoed through the chamber, but beneath it, a thought gnawed at the back of his mind.
If I can do this with a spoon… what happens when I try with real materials?
The silver-haired boy shivered—not from fear, but from the thrill of possibility.
✦ Unlimited Storage
Next on the list: Unlimited Storage.
Asura tapped his chin, pacing the room. Okay, Storage. Sounds harmless, right? Just toss stuff into a pocket dimension and call it a day. Worst case, I lose a pillow or something. Best case… I break reality.
He scanned the chamber, golden eyes flicking from object to object. The bed? Off-limits. If that vanished and didn't come back, there'd be a royal investigation. The curtains? Already ruined from Master Crafter. He winced. Yeah, no need to make things worse.
Then his gaze landed on the giant dresser across the room.
It was massive—carved from blackwood, its surface polished until it gleamed like obsidian. Crimson metal inlays ran along the edges, etched with faint runes for preservation. The thing looked like it belonged in a treasury, not a child's room. Heavy, imposing, impossible for someone his size to move.
"Perfect," he whispered, a mischievous glint in his eyes.
He raised a hand, finger pointing dramatically like a hero in a Saturday-night anime. "Store!"
The effect was instant.
The dresser didn't creak. It didn't warp. It didn't even shimmer. One moment, it was there. The next—pop!—gone.
Completely.
Asura's mouth fell open. His golden eyes widened until they nearly sparkled.
"…No way."
He bolted forward, skidding across the carpet, searching every corner. He peeked under the bed. Behind the curtains. Even knocked on the wall as if the dresser had decided to phase into another dimension and hide there.
"…It's gone. Actually gone."
The thrill rushed through his veins, a mix of adrenaline and awe. He clapped his hands together. "Okay, okay—bring it back!"
Pop.
The dresser reappeared exactly where it had been, so seamlessly that it was almost eerie. Not a scratch, not a single dent. The candle resting atop it hadn't even flickered. It was as though reality itself had politely held the furniture aside, then returned it with a bow.
Asura staggered backward, his laughter bubbling up uncontrollably.
"This… this is insane!"
He gripped his head, pacing in a circle, eyes wide and manic. "It's not just storage. It's perfect storage. No time delay, no degradation, no shifting positions—it just goes away and comes back like it never left!"
He snapped his fingers, pointing at a chair. Pop. Gone. Pop. Back.
He pointed at the bookshelf. Pop. Empty space. Pop. Bookshelf restored, not a single page bent.
Every time it worked flawlessly, his grin stretched wider.
"…I could hide an army in this thing."
He pictured it vividly: soldiers stuffed into a pocket dimension, popping out on command like an army of jack-in-the-boxes. Siege engines rolling out of nowhere. Supplies that never spoiled. A demon army marching with nothing but light packs, their entire war effort tucked safely into his hands.
The idea sent a shiver down his spine—half from terror, half from pure exhilaration.
"…An army…" he whispered. "Or a fleet. Or an entire city."
Then, like the child he still was, his grin softened, eyes sparkling with a different kind of greed.
"…Or… a lifetime supply of snacks."
He pictured it instantly: mountains of roasted meat, rivers of chocolate, towering cakes stacked higher than castles, a personal stash of candy no one could ever steal. His stomach growled on cue, and he laughed, doubling over.
"This system is busted," he cackled, clutching his belly. "Completely busted!"
He flopped backward onto the carpet, arms spread wide, the chandelier's light gleaming in his golden eyes. The dresser loomed quietly in the corner, exactly where it had been before the experiment.
But Asura couldn't unsee it now.
That wasn't just a piece of furniture.
It was proof. Proof that Unlimited Storage wasn't just convenience—it was power. Terrifying, world-breaking power.
And it was his.
✦ Aura
"Next skill…" Asura muttered, kneeling on the cracked marble with his golden eyes gleaming, "…Aura."
He hesitated. The word alone made his chest tighten.
Aura wasn't like Storage or Crafting. This wasn't a trick for hiding furniture or forging spoons into swords. Aura was raw presence—the projection of one's will into the world. He'd seen it countless times in his past life's anime, manga, and games. Protagonists unleashing a pressure so overwhelming it could drop weaker foes instantly. Villains whose oppressive presence made even heroes hesitate.
And here, in this world, his grandfather embodied it. The Demon King's mere existence made demons tremble. When he entered the throne room, even nobles with centuries of pride dropped their gazes to the floor.
Could I really do the same? At four years old?
He chewed his lip, nervous. Just a little. I'll only use a fraction. Just to see.
He braced himself, inhaled deeply, and willed the skill to activate.
The effect was instantaneous.
A pulse detonated from his body, unseen yet undeniable. The air thickened, heavy and suffocating. Darkness pressed outward from his small frame, spreading across the chamber in every direction.
The marble floor beneath him cracked, jagged lines tearing through the polished surface with loud splits and groans. The chandelier above rattled violently, its crystal ornaments chiming madly against each other, swinging like they were caught in a storm. The velvet curtains thrashed against the walls as if whipped by invisible gales.
The chamber groaned beneath the weight of his presence.
And outside the door—
"Gghhh—!"
Keith Von Talon's crimson eyes went wide as his knees buckled. The veteran knight collapsed, one gauntleted hand slamming against the wall for balance, the other clawing at his own throat as if trying to breathe air that had turned to stone. His armor creaked under the invisible weight pressing down upon him.
This pressure… it's monstrous…
His chest heaved, lungs burning. He had faced wyverns, hydras, even an angel once in his long service—and yet, never had his body reacted like this. His vision blurred, sweat poured down his temple. His mind screamed the truth.
This is worse than the King's aura.
And it was coming from a child.
Inside, Asura's eyes went wide with horror. He hadn't expected this—this wasn't "just a little"!
"Crap, crap, crap! Cancel!"
The aura snapped shut like a door slammed in the night.
Silence returned instantly, thick and unnatural after the storm. The chandelier stilled. The cracks in the floor glowed faintly before dulling, leaving scars etched into the marble as proof.
Asura stumbled back, chest heaving, heart pounding against his ribs. His palms trembled. "I-I didn't mean to—!"
The door creaked open slowly. Keith staggered inside, his breaths harsh, sweat dripping from his brow. His crimson eyes, wide with disbelief, locked on the boy standing at the room's center.
"My lord…" His voice trembled. "Was that… you?"
Asura froze, then scratched his cheek, golden eyes darting away nervously. "…Maybe."
Keith blinked. Once. Twice. His mouth opened, then closed, no words escaping.
A level 250 knight, a veteran of two centuries, had been forced to his knees—by a four-year-old who hadn't even broken a sweat.
Asura laughed weakly, rubbing the back of his neck. "…Heh. Sorry about that, Keith."
The knight didn't answer. He simply stared, still pale, his breaths uneven.
And for the first time, Asura realized something chilling.
If this was what happened when he tried Aura in secret… what would happen if the rest of the castle felt it? If his grandfather realized his Aura wasn't just strong—it was overwhelming, unnatural?
He shivered. His small hands curled into fists.
I need to be more careful. If anyone sees this…
But another thought crept in, twisting his lips into a small, guilty grin.
"…Wow," he whispered. "I really am terrifying aren't I."
Keith swallowed hard, still staring at him, and for once, the loyal knight could not find it in himself to disagree.
✦ Teleportation
Asura sat cross-legged on the cracked marble, rubbing his cheek with one finger as he stared at the glowing skill list. His Aura disaster still lingered in the back of his mind—Keith nearly collapsing, the chandelier rattling like it was about to crash down—but his curiosity was stronger than his fear.
"Okay… next up," he muttered, golden eyes narrowing with resolve. "…Teleportation."
Just saying the word sent a tingle down his spine. This was the skill he'd dreamed about more than any other. Instant movement. No more running, no more travel, no more being trapped. It was the kind of ability every kid back in his old world had wished for—skip school, sneak into concerts, warp into the fridge at midnight.
But here? Here it was real.
He exhaled slowly, forcing down the nervous flutter in his chest. Alright. I've seen enough anime to know how this goes wrong. Teleport into a wall? Dead. Teleport into the ground? Double dead. Teleport into a volcano? Game over. So keep it simple.
His gaze drifted to the chamber door.
"The hallway," he decided aloud, nodding firmly. "Just the hallway. Nothing crazy, nothing flashy."
He stood, brushing dust from his night robe, and squared his tiny shoulders. His golden eyes gleamed with the same intensity he'd once reserved for anime finales.
"Asura Satomi," he declared to no one in particular, "True Demon Lord, future ruler of cheat skills… attempts teleportation!"
He raised his hand dramatically, heart pounding like a drum.
"Teleport!"
The world shattered.
The air around him warped, folding inward like glass melting under a blowtorch. His vision fractured into shards of light, the floor and walls bending at impossible angles. A deafening crackle roared in his ears, as though space itself was screaming in protest. For one terrifying instant, his body felt weightless—torn apart, unmoored from gravity, from reality itself.
And then—snap.
The world reassembled.
Asura blinked. The room was upside down.
"…?"
It took him three seconds to realize what had happened. He wasn't in the hallway. He wasn't even on the floor. He was standing perfectly upright… on the ceiling.
"…uh-oh."
His silver hair dangled toward the ground below, his night robe sliding dangerously toward his face. He flailed, arms pinwheeling uselessly.
"W-Wait! I didn't mean here!"
Gravity, offended at being ignored, suddenly remembered its job.
"GYAAAH—!"
Asura plummeted, his small body spinning before slamming into the marble with a loud thud. Pillows stacked nearby toppled in an avalanche, muffling his landing.
For a moment, he lay there, dazed, staring blankly at the chandelier above—which now, thankfully, was above again. His golden eyes slowly refocused, his breath wheezing out.
"…Still counts as success," he groaned, rubbing the growing lump on his head.
He pushed himself upright, swaying slightly, then let out a shaky laugh.
"Okay. Okay… maybe not perfect. But hey, I actually did it. Teleportation works!"
His grin widened, sharp and boyish. The thrill coursing through his veins was undeniable.
If I can master this… no prison, no cage, no trap could ever hold me. I could slip past walls, escape ambushes, appear behind enemies in battle. This isn't just movement—it's freedom.
His small fists clenched, trembling with excitement.
"…Next time, though," he muttered, eyes flicking toward the floor with a pout, "let's aim for somewhere safer. Like… I dunno… not the ceiling."
The glowing system window pulsed faintly in the corner of his vision, as though amused by his blunder.
Asura sighed, falling back onto the pillows with a laugh that echoed through the empty chamber.
✦ Flight
Finally, Asura set his hands on his hips, staring up at the high ceiling like it was a final boss waiting to be conquered. His golden eyes gleamed with determination.
"Alright," he announced, spreading his small arms wide. "If I'm gonna be OP, I need something cool… like Flight."
He closed his eyes and concentrated. His heart thudded against his ribs. Out of all his new skills, this one mattered most to his childhood dreams. To soar freely through the skies, to leave behind walls and cages, to rise above kingdoms—it was the essence of every fantasy he had ever envied from his old world.
At first, nothing happened. The marble floor felt the same beneath his feet, stubbornly solid.
He frowned. "Come on… Flight. Engage. Activate. Up, up, and away…!"
Then, without warning, his stomach lurched. His feet left the ground.
He gasped, arms instinctively flailing for balance. Slowly—hesitantly—he rose higher, his small frame lifting off the carpet as though cradled by invisible hands. Inch by inch, he ascended, the room shrinking below him.
Until, at last, he hovered near the chandelier, silver hair swaying in the drafts of his own mana.
"Yes!" he shouted, pumping his fists in the air. His voice echoed through the chamber, triumphant. "This is it! My isekai dream—unlocked!"
He floated there, spinning clumsily like a smug balloon, grinning from ear to ear. For one shining moment, he felt untouchable.
And then he leaned too far forward.
"…Uh-oh."
He tilted. The balance wavered. Gravity, insulted at being ignored again, seized its chance for revenge.
Crash!
Asura slammed straight into the chandelier. The impact shook the fixture violently, sending a storm of glowing crystals and decorative feathers cascading through the room. His small body tumbled down with them, landing in a heap on the ruined carpet, tangled in blankets and crushed velvet.
"Ugh—!"
The door burst open. Keith Von Talon charged in, his blade drawn, crimson eyes sharp. "My lord! What's—"
He froze.
The scene before him was not an attack, nor an assassination attempt. It was his young master, the grandson of the Demon King, tangled like a caterpillar in blankets and feathers, coughing through laughter as shards of crystal clinked off his silver hair.
Asura beamed up at him, bruised but unbroken.
"I'm fine! I'm fine!" he coughed, brushing a shard from his shoulder with mock dignity. "Note to self: practice outside next time."
Keith stared, dumbfounded, lowering his blade slowly. His crimson eyes flicked from the destroyed chandelier to the laughing boy. He opened his mouth, then shut it again, utterly lost for words.
Asura sat up, still grinning, still tangled in feathers. "Hey, Keith," he said with all the seriousness of a conquering hero. "Flying is awesome. But chandeliers? Total weak spot."
Keith could only gape in silence, his disciplined knightly composure crumbling as the absurdity of the scene burned itself into his memory forever.
✦ The Realization
Asura lay flat on his back, feathers drifting down around him like snow. The shattered remains of the chandelier glimmered faintly in the moonlight, scattered across the marble like fallen stars. The air was still heavy with the sharp scent of dust and iron from broken crystal.
He groaned softly, lifting one small arm before letting it flop back to the floor. His body ached—but only faintly, as if even gravity couldn't punish him properly. His absurd stats dulled the bruises, cushioning what should have been a painful crash.
His pride, however… that was another story.
"Ugh…" he muttered, covering his face with one hand. "First I nearly suffocate Keith with Aura. Then I teleport to the ceiling. Now I've demolished a chandelier."
He peeked between his fingers at the glittering wreckage above. A long breath escaped him. He should have felt humiliated. He should have been terrified at being caught. Instead…
His grin wouldn't fade.
Not even a little.
"…So this is my power," he whispered, the words tasting strange but thrilling on his tongue. "Not just any system. Not some small cheat. But something beyond what this world's ever seen."
Images flickered through his mind—Keith's stats compared to his own, the crushing weight of his Aura, the spoon turned to a weapon that could slice curtains like paper, the dresser disappearing into an invisible dimension. Every test so far had proven the same thing: his existence didn't just fit into this world. It defied it.
And if his memories of anime and games from his past life held true…
He clenched his fists tightly, golden eyes burning as determination welled inside him like fire.
"This world…" he said softly, the words carrying both promise and threat, "…is about to get interesting."
The feathers settled around him in silence.
And in the shadow of the Demon King's castle, the boy who laughed in the ruins of his own chaos was already walking a path no one else could follow.