I was living with my mother—happy, even though we were poor. My mother worked all day at an ordinary cloth shop; she left early in the morning and returned in the evening. She never told me that it was for our living, but I later learned she was deep in debt. One day, when I was only three years old and busy preparing dinner for her in the evening, debt collectors came to our house. We never knew who had given them our address or how they found us.
That day, everything changed. They stormed our home, making a ruckus and destroying our furniture and belongings. It wasn't enough that they ruined our house—they did unspeakable things before my eyes. A person with a knife suddenly stabbed my mother in the neck from the right; blood sprang everywhere. I was still a child, trying desperately to protect her, but I was powerless against these adults. They ripped her to shreds before my terrified eyes. I cried more than I ever had in my entire life. She was all I had—my mother, my home.
Then, in that moment of overwhelming loss, a pulse of anger surged through my veins. Without warning, a horn burst forth from the right side of my head. (In our devil culture, a normal child's horn grows from the middle of the head; if a child is considered a genius, it grows from the left. But a horn from the right side—a horned devil—is irregular in our culture. The Devil Emperor's horn, which resembles a crown, appears on all sides.)
I grabbed the knife that lay on the floor. My golden eye turned red with fury. With every ounce of gut and strength I had, I fought them—I cut, slashed, stabbed, and even bit with desperate, raging hunger for blood. I needed revenge for my mother. In that moment, I lost all rationality. By the end of that day, I found myself standing alone amid the corpses of four bodies: my mother and the other three men who had killed her. The stench and color of blood filled our ruined home; my clothes reeked with it, and the knife, still in my trembling hand, was stained red. Day and night, whispers followed me. Every human I encountered would say, "Look at him, it's creepy and scary—look at all the blood." This became the only thing I heard for many days, until one day a priestess from the church approached me. She had the same gentle face as my mother. I couldn't help but cry when she asked, "Are you okay, child?" I was so scared.
She took me to an orphanage run by the church. From that day on, no one spoke to me; neither the other orphans nor the caretakers dared come near me. Only one kind woman there would speak to me until one day, when your father appeared.
I was wandering the streets at the age of seven when a brawl broke out between two knights. Curious, I stopped to watch. Suddenly, a firm voice called out, "Eldric Velmore—what are you doing here, child?" My eyes met those of a man, and behind him stood Oswin with a sharp gaze. He whispered something in your father's ear. Then, unexpectedly, your father asked, "Do you want to work for me, kid? I will give you whatever you desire."
In that moment, I felt an opportunity—to learn, to study, and to grow in the way my mother had always hoped for me. Without hesitation, I accepted the offer. And the book you hold now was given to me as a keepsake of my mother. With her last breath, she said, "Keep it. When you find the owner of this book, swear your loyalty to that man—he may raise our family, my child."
That is the long, sad story of my life. And as my mother wished, I believe you [Neron] are the real owner of this book. Then here it is.
(In an emotional, trembling tone, I declared:)
"By the name of my mother, I, Lucien, pledge my absolute and undying loyalty to my master, Neron Velmore. Will you give me one chance to be your servant, my master?"
(Neron's voice came with a final, solemn condition:)
"I can, however, there is one condition you must bear in your heart, Lucien: your loyalty is not limited to me alone—you may serve the Velmore family for the rest of your life."
I replied,
"I will gracefully accept all your wishes, my Lord. But now, my Lord, may I ask—where is the book? Or how did you write this letter on the book?"
He answered with a slight smirk,
"Your book is safe. The one you were holding was only a mere replica I created to fool you. The real book was in my table's drawer this entire time. From the beginning, I was not in your position—if you see the book after some pages, it's all blank."
Laughing and placing my hand on my face,
"Hahahaha, I thought we were playing the game of wit—but now I get it. The game you see was never meant to begin. I was at a loss from the beginning—you're just checking and watching us for mere amusement."
---
Neron's POV – A New Chapter Begins
After the event with Lucien was settled, I lay on my bed with nothing much to do. The next stage of my plan was already set: one month until the tea party, when the next part of our journey would begin. Now that I had two reliable allies, it was time to show the world our real talent.
My next goal for this month was simple. I need to decipher the book—yes, Emperor's Art. I will learn what was left behind by the Devil Emperor. In addition, I must train with my father, improving my strength as much as possible. But for now, I thought with a sigh, let's just sleep.
---
The Passage of Time Through Training
That night, my training began in earnest. Every day, I trained with my father from morning until noon. After our grueling sessions, I returned to my room and started deciphering the Emperor's Art. In the evenings, I taught Hina, and when night fell, I practiced alone—only getting a mere five hours of sleep each day. This relentless daily cycle made the month pass quickly, and soon the day arrived when our preparations would be put to the test.
After a restless month of training, I woke up in the morning once more. Hina's little, cute smile greeted me as I stood up. Then, unexpectedly, a small, sincere voice came from her.
"Master, I didn't notice until now, but you got some muscle. Your height seems to have improved too—you really look cool, Master."
I gazed into the mirror after long hours of flexing my biceps. "Am I? I look good..." I replied softly to my own reflection before turning back to Hina. "Never mind this—I need to train. Let's go, Hina."
At the training ground, my father stood in the center, sword in hand. As I entered, he said,
"Pick up the scythe, Neron. From today, I am going to teach you what you have wanted for so long. You have proven to me that you are worthy of wielding this weapon with your past month's dedication and disciplined action. Now, take your weapon and come to me as fast as you can—give it your best, my son."
For the entire past month, I had watched the scythe, waiting until it was time to master it. I grabbed it firmly and ran toward my father.
My scythe barely grazed the ground as the sand scattered in my wake. With each slash, the fight began. I spun the weapon, using every bit of strategy to attack through every opening and to block his counterattacks. The clash of our blows echoed in the air. I could almost feel the joy of using this weapon—the thrill of battle coursing through my veins. But, within mere ten minutes, I was defeated. I was backed into the ground by him, only for him to extend his hand and help me up. I cannot deny it was a fun and challenging experience.
"From tomorrow, I am going to teach you the art of the scythe, Neron. Be prepared," he declared.
I resolved that I would master it. Today, however, I was granted leave from training because it was the day of the tea party—a day I was scheduled to visit the house of Count Lion Aldrich with my mother and Hina. I hadn't trained much that day, but my father allowed me to keep the scythe in my room, and I had already deciphered the Emperor's Art. I now waited in my room for Lucien to tell me what was written in it.
---
The Revelation
A knock sounded at the open door.
"Come inside, Lucien. Are you ready to hear what is written? Take a seat first."
"Yes, my Lord," Lucien replied.
Then, with careful deliberation and eyes burning with determination, I spoke:
"The Emperor's Art, as I expected, is the art of the Devil Emperor—the being known as the strongest in history. It tells the story of him, written by his own hand:
One day a boy was born in the land of Diablo on the Devil Continent, from the 7th continent of the world. The boy was born on a moonless night—a pure-blooded devil. However, there was something unusual about his appearance: he had three horns on his head that formed a crown-like figure. This had not happened in previous years. As he grew, every devil was strictly forbidden to approach him. They saw him as trash, but the real reason was fear—the unyielding aura of a king-like figure in the war of blood. Everyone was scared of him.
As days passed, he discovered something unusual in his body: he could change his skin, organs, and everything inside and outside his body into any metal or substance he desired. He did not understand this ability at first and tried to find out how it worked. After some time, he understood the true nature of his power. It worked at a very small scale—it used the atoms of the body to transform them into the configuration of other metals. Imagine your hand made of steel; by channeling your mana and using the circulation of your body and aura to harden it, you create metal. In his case, his hand turned to steel. He could move freely as before, but the power was extraordinary—unlike anything normal humans could ever possess. This was the first power in my life, and it is the story of my Devil Emperor."
I paused and then continued,
"It was the story, Lucien, but there is one last page remaining. You know why?"
Lucien asked, "Why, my Lord? If the story is over, then why did he write on the last page? He gave information about a skill and how to use it, yet the last page seems useless—but then again, if he wrote it, then it must be something."
The last page read:
'If you find this book, consider yourself lucky—you have found my legacy. This is the first ability you need to know. There are seven books in total, which I have hidden on different continents. If you do not use this power in the order I have written, your body and vessel of soul will perish for eternity, with nowhere to go. You will wander like a ghost—unseen, unheard, and alone for the rest of eternity.'
I looked at Lucien steadily and said,
"You understand now, Lucien? We were lucky to get the first order of the book. Otherwise, I would be nothing more than a ghost."
"Well, that is it." I jumped onto my bed, nearly falling over with an "ouch!" then stood and said, "Lucien, sorry to ask—knowing this was the last memory of your mother—but burn the book. We don't need anyone else to find this book out now, do we?"
With that, I got ready to leave for the house of Count Lion Aldrich, where I would set the next stage of my journey.