Within the grounds of a noble residence stood a house that was neither grand nor lavish.
It was a simple two story building surrounded by a stretch of modest land.
At its side lay a small garden, no more than two narrow plots of grass adorned with flowers that grew in quiet simplicity.
The morning sun shone gently from the east, casting its warmth upon the blossoms.
Bees and butterflies came and went, drifting lazily through the air as if time itself had slowed within that small corner of the estate.
In the middle of the garden stood a white iron table, its legs planted directly upon the grass, accompanied by matching white iron chairs resting on the same soft ground.
Click.
The sound of a cup meeting its saucer broke the silence, a small sign of life within the peaceful setting.
A young man sat at the table, reading a book while sipping his tea.
His eyes moved carefully across the pages, focused on every word, every letter, as though he feared to miss even the smallest detail.
He had blonde hair that shimmered faintly like gold under the morning light, and eyes of the same warm hue.
His face was handsome and youthful, framed neatly by his hair.
He wore the attire of nobility, a coat draped over his shoulders and back, giving him a dignified yet gentle appearance.
As he read, a faint smile formed on his lips.
Without realizing it, he spoke softly to himself.
"The Demon King truly was remarkable."
The book in his hands told another account of the Demon King who had been defeated by the Alliance of the Four Major Races fifty years ago.
Even now, people still hated the Demon King for what he had done before his fall at the Valley of Grace.
Yet most never sought to understand what had led him down that path.
The young noble had once despised the Demon King as well, believing only the common tale that painted him as a tyrant who attacked the other races.
But unlike most, he did not accept such stories without question.
He searched for the truth, gathering books and fragments of information, even though much of it had been hidden, altered, or erased.
Finding records about the Demon King was considered dangerous, even heretical.
Still, as a noble, he had access to places others did not.
From old, dust covered volumes and forgotten accounts, he uncovered a truth that most had never heard.
Before the wars began, the Demon King had repeatedly sent envoys to other kingdoms, carrying a single message that all races were equal.
From the moment he learned this, his view of the Demon King changed.
He no longer saw him as a creature of pure evil, but as someone who had been deeply misunderstood by the world.
In time, he came to share the same belief, that all races were equal.
Yet in this world, such a belief was considered an insult to the order of things, a thought that could even lead to execution, especially for a noble who dared to hold it.
For the world itself was divided by rules that kept races apart.
Each race built its own kingdoms, looking down upon others, enslaving those they deemed lesser.
There had been times when they stood together as equals, but only when they fought against the Demon King.
Once he fell, they returned to fighting one another as they always had.
As he read and reflected on the Demon King's life, a thought escaped his lips without his awareness.
"Perhaps the Demon King acted the villain all along… but could it have been to unite the races? Does he really that genius?"
Lost in thought, he lifted the cup once more and finished the rest of his tea.
Feeling satisfied with what he had read, he gently closed the book.
Then came the sound of approaching footsteps, the steady weight of formal shoes pressing against the ground.
An old man stepped beside him and handed over a sealed envelope.
"A letter from the kingdom, young master."
He opened it at once and began to read.
The letter was filled with the usual formalities and empty courtesies, the kind he had no patience for.
His eyes quickly searched for the heart of the message.
The meaning was simple and direct.
Their kingdom had agreed to go to war with a neighboring kingdom.
Why would someone from the kingdom travel so far just to deliver such news to him?
Because he would be directly involved in the war that was about to begin.
The young noble who had been sitting in the garden all this time was Gregory, the head of the noble house of Marquis Lamont.
Though still young, he had already become the leader of his family, for both of his parents had passed away, leaving the responsibility upon his shoulders.
Gregory's domain lay upon the borderlands, a region that would soon become a battlefield once more because of the careless decisions of the royalists and their endless conflicts with neighboring kingdoms.
He governed a great city along with several surrounding villages, standing alongside a few lesser nobles who answered to the same banner.
Yet the land under his care was far from prosperous.
Merchants often avoided the region, for it had long been known as a place where wars began and ended.
Trade was uncertain, and peace was always temporary.
The only steady wealth came from a handful of iron and gold mines scattered across the territory.
For generations, his homeland had been used as the spearhead of the kingdom's wars, placed at the front lines whenever conflict arose.
As a result, the center of life within his domain revolved almost entirely around soldiers, weapons, and preparation for battle.
And yet, because of this very role, his family was held in high regard within the kingdom.
They were known by a name spoken with both respect and expectation, the Lions Guard of the North, a title given for their duty in protecting the northern frontier.
Still, the royalists treated them as though they were nothing more than a shield to be used at will.
Gregory did not even know the true reason behind the war that was about to unfold, despite the fact that it would take place on his land and endanger the very people he was sworn to protect.
As he read the letter, his thoughts churned restlessly.
At last, he spoke, his frustration slipping through his composure.
"Damn those royalists, they order us to fight yet offer no help at all."
With a sharp motion, he threw the letter onto the table before him, the sound of paper striking wood echoing faintly through the quiet garden.
He drew a breath, then turned his gaze toward the man standing beside him.
"What should we do, in your opinion, Sebastian?"
At those words, the servant paused for a moment, raising an eyebrow as he considered the question.
His name was Sebastian, the head butler of the Lamont household.
His hair had long turned white with age, styled neatly in a slicked back fashion, and he wore a mustache and beard of the same pale shade.
He had served the Lamont family for many years, even before Gregory was born, and had watched over the household through changing generations.
He was more than a head butler.
Sebastian had long acted as Gregory's advisor, offering guidance in matters of economy, governance, and conflicts such as this.
And this would be the first time Gregory would lead his territory into war.
In many ways, Sebastian stood at his side like a guardian presence, steady and unwavering in uncertain times.
At last, Sebastian spoke, his voice calm and measured.
"Young master there is nothing we can do. All that remains is to prepare our forces to meet the enemy when they arrive."
Gregory remained silent for a moment before asking again, his tone quieter this time.
"Do you think this territory is still strong enough to hold them back?"
Sebastian hesitated, the answer weighing heavily even before it was spoken.
"As for that I do not know, young master."
Gregory lowered his gaze slightly and gave a faint nod.
"I see."
Silence settled between them, heavy and uncertain.
Neither of them felt any sense of optimism, for they both knew the condition of their territory had been declining for quite some time.
Many soldiers had left after receiving better offers from other kingdoms and regions that promised greater rewards and fewer risks.
With the land focused almost entirely on military matters and its economy long stagnant, the people had grown weary and restless.
Some even chose to remain as idle soldiers, content to draw pay while staying within the safety of the barracks rather than stepping onto the battlefield.
Suddenly, a loud rumble of thunder rolled above their heads.
When they looked up, the sky had already turned gray, swallowed by thick clouds that promised rain at any moment.
Sebastian spoke calmly, breaking the stillness.
"Let us go inside, young master, before the rain begins."
Gregory rose from his seat at once, taking with him the book he held as dearly as a sacred text, the story of the Demon King whom he admired deeply.
Sebastian gathered the cup and saucer from the table, along with the letter Gregory had thrown aside earlier.
Together, they made their way back into the building.
As they entered, they were greeted by a young maid who approached with a warm and gentle smile.
"Would you like to take a bath, sir? If you wish, I will prepare the hot water."
Gregory looked at her for a moment, but with his mind burdened by too many thoughts, he forgot to return her smile.
He answered shortly, "No need, Rika. I will spend my time in my room. Please inform the other servants not to disturb me while I am there."
"Yes, sir."
The maid named Rika bowed politely before leaving.
She was a new servant, with a kind and innocent appearance. Her brown hair framed her face softly, and small freckles dotted her cheeks, giving her the look of a simple village girl with a gentle heart.
Gregory then parted ways with Sebastian and made his way to his room.
By the time he reached it, the rain had begun to fall, visible through the window.
Lightning flashed across the sky from time to time, followed by the deep roar of thunder.
He removed his coat and laid himself down upon the bed.
As he rested, his thoughts began to circle once more within his mind.
"What should I do… to stop the army that is coming?"
His mind wandered to the stories of the Demon King, to the time when other kingdoms had invaded his lands and attacked him in his own home.
Another question escaped his lips.
"What would the Demon King do if he were in my position right now?"
He said this because, in some strange way, his situation felt similar to that of the Demon King, though not entirely the same.
As he continued to dwell on the heavy burden resting upon him, drowsiness slowly crept into his body.
His awareness began to fade, the comfort of the bed wrapping around him as he drifted into that fragile space between sleep and waking.
Then, suddenly, something appeared before his eyes.
It was like a window filled with words, floating in front of him, utterly absurd and completely out of place.
[ System Activated: Legacy of the Demon King ]
Congratulations.
You have been chosen as the successor of the Demon King.
You will inherit the spirit and resolve of the Demon King.
Gregory frowned slightly, his voice weak with fatigue.
"What is this? Am I hallucinating?"
As soon as he spoke, the words shifted and rearranged themselves into new lines.
[ Synchronization process will begin ]
[ 5% ]
[ 25% ]
[ 50% ]
He let out a quiet breath.
"I must be more tired than I thought to see things like this."
After saying that, he chose not to think too deeply about it.
He simply closed his eyes and allowed himself to fall into a deep and peaceful sleep.
Unaware that as he slept, the numbers continued to rise.
[ 75% ]
[ 95% ]
[ 100% ]
[ Completed ]
[ Synchronization process finished ]
[ Welcome to the Legacy of the Demon King System ]
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