Lucian placed his hand on the balcony door. The surface darkened under his palm, black spreading like frost in reverse. A breath later, the door crumbled into ash.
Curtains billowed like pale ghosts, the hearth fire sputtered low, and a chill wind coiled through the chamber.
Reiner jerked in shock—just as he was about to lift the bottle of poison to his lips.
From the swirl of shadow, a figure stepped forward. Tall. Calm. Eyes glimmering faint red beneath the wavering light.
"Who's there?" the prince rasped.
Lucian's footsteps were quiet, deliberate. "Someone who has watched you slowly tear yourself apart."
Reiner's hand trembled around the bottle. "You—how long—?"
"Long enough," Lucian said softly. "Long enough to witness how this world has broken you."
The prince lowered his gaze, voice cracking. "Then you know what I am… A failure. A prince who can't even protect his own name."
Lucian regarded him for a long moment before replying, "That is merely what they led you to believe."
Reiner turned away, clutching his arm. "You don't understand. My brother—he's everything they wanted. And my father… he looks at me like I'm a wound that won't heal."
Lucian's tone dropped to a measured calm. "And still, you persisted, did you not? You trained until your hands bled, practiced aura control until you could no longer stand—yet nothing changed."
Reiner froze. "How do you know that?"
"Because I have seen that curse before."
"Curse?" His voice cracked with a half-laugh. "That's just another excuse."
Lucian's head tilted slightly. "It is the truth. The Human God marked you from the moment of your birth. Without reason, he bound your soul in chains. Every breath you've drawn, every struggle you've endured… all of it has been within a cage."
The prince's throat tightened. "Then I really never had a chance…"
Lucian stepped closer, his presence quietly suffocating. "Not as you are now." His tone softened. "But cages can be broken."
Reiner's red-rimmed eyes lifted toward him. "By you?"
Lucian's reply came with a slow, deliberate nod. A faint smirk ghosted across his lips.
The air rippled. His form shimmered as horns, dark as obsidian, unfolded from his temples. His eyes burned brighter, his skin tracing with faint crimson lines that pulsed like molten veins. The shadows themselves seemed to kneel, bending toward him.
Reiner stumbled backward. "You're… you're a demon. That's not possible. They were wiped out!"
Lucian's smile never reached his eyes. "Yes, they were. And now, I have returned—to rebuild demon-kind from the ashes."
He lifted a hand, power humming faintly in the air. "I am Lucian… the Demon King, reborn."
Reiner's disbelief wavered between fear and awe. "If what you say is true, why come here? Why me?"
Lucian's gaze steadied, the glow in his eyes softening. "Because you have been abandoned. Your own god crippled your growth—for no reason."
Reiner looked down, voice shaking. "You sound like… like you pity me."
"I don't pity you," Lucian said. "I see great potential within you. At present, your strength is shackled by your bond to the Human God. But if you sever that tie—if you embrace what you were truly meant to become—those restraints will shatter."
The words struck deep. Memories flooded Reiner's mind: his brother's sneer, his father's silent disappointment, servants whispering behind closed doors. Every humiliation. Every lonely night.
"They'll never let me forget what I am," he whispered.
Lucian's voice was calm, unyielding. "Then cease allowing them to define your worth. Let me show you a path where your strength belongs to you—and you alone."
Reiner's breath trembled. "If I do this… what happens to me?"
Lucian extended his hand, dark aura curling lazily around his fingers. "You will cease to be their prince. You shall be reborn as a demon, bound not to the Human God, but to the Demon God. No more ceilings. No more chains."
The boy stared at that hand—steady, patient, terrifyingly certain.
"I don't know if I can trust you," he whispered.
Lucian's tone turned almost tender. "You don't have to. Simply trust yourself enough to desire something greater."
The room fell into stillness. The fire crackled faintly. The curtains shivered as though the world itself were holding its breath.
Slowly, Reiner reached out. His fingers hovered over Lucian's palm, shaking.
He remembered the laughter in the training yard, his brother's disgust, his father's silence.
He remembered collapsing from exhaustion and the servants turning away.
And through the shame, a spark of defiance flickered.
He took Lucian's hand.
Red light burst outward. The floor quaked as power surged through him, tearing through invisible chains. His aura screamed free—wild, alive—a deep, glimmering gold.
When the light faded, the prince stood unsteadily. His tears were gone. His eyes gleamed faint gold.
Lucian watched with quiet satisfaction. "You see now? The cage has been broken."
Reiner turned toward the cracked mirror—broken glass, a broken boy remade. "I feel… different."
Lucian's voice was low, edged with pride. "Now you are. You were born beneath a god who shackled your potential… but tonight, you have been reborn beneath one who will never restrain you."
***
They left under cover of night, slipping from the academy unseen. Both altered their hair and eye color until they looked like strangers passing through the city's lamp lit streets. Lucian led him to a quiet tavern on the outskirts and rented a back room.
"Rest," he ordered simply.
Reiner collapsed onto the bed, the fatigue of transformation finally catching up to him.
***
MORNING
A pale dawn spilled through the window. Lucian stood in his academy uniform, composed as always.
Reiner sat before the mirror, laughing under his breath as he cycled through colors—golden hair to black, blue eyes to crimson.
"I still can't believe I'm actually a demon. This ability is incredible!"
Lucian's reflection met his through the mirror, voice calm and measured. "Do not get caught doing that." He turned slightly. "You will remain here until the time comes to depart for the Lawless Continent."
Reiner stopped his play, facing him with newfound resolve.
"Thanks to you, Lord Lucian, I can finally grow stronger. Even without training in this new form, I already feel stronger." He clenched his fist.
"Well, demons are, by nature, stronger than humans."
Reiner tilted his head. "How exactly did you fix my supposed curse?"
Lucian glanced back. "Well, it isn't exactly a curse. You're familiar with what they call Gifts, aren't you?"
"Yes."
[Gifts are abilities granted by the Human God that exist outside a person's main Technique. Unlike a Technique, which can evolve and define a fighter's style, a Gift is a single, fixed power that grants an additional advantage.
Some people are born with Gifts; others awaken them after enduring repeated conditions—extreme heat might awaken fire-resistance, constant peril might sharpen instinct or luck.
Gifts are simple, supplemental, and cannot replace a true Technique—yet they can tip the balance between victory and defeat.]
"What the Human God bestowed upon you is what mortals would call a Gift," Lucian explained. "Yet rather than granting you power, it served only to hinder your growth. When I transformed you into a demon, that shackle was lifted—for such a thing holds no place under the Demon God's law."
"So because I'm a demon now—and my soul's tied to the Demon God—the Human God's rules no longer apply to me?"
"Exactly."
Reiner frowned. "Hold on… why didn't anyone say the Human God could grant bad Gifts?"
"Because humans remain blind to that truth. They believe Gifts exist only as blessings. Thus, when one receives a cursed Gift, they are dismissed as talentless… never realizing they were condemned from the start."
Reiner sank onto the bed, relief flooding his features. "So it was never my fault, after all."
"Correct. In any case, I should take my leave—lingering here any longer will make me late for class."
Lucian turned to the door. As it closed behind him, Reiner's gaze followed in silent awe—eyes gleaming with the devotion of someone who had finally found salvation.
***
ROYAL PALACE OF DRAKIA, ASHBOURNE PALACE
The pale morning light poured through tall windows, washing the marble in silver.
The King, Aldric Ashbourne, sat at the long table, one hand wrapped around a cup of black coffee. His features were rugged yet noble — a trimmed beard, medium-length black hair touched with gray, and golden eyes that reflected the light like molten metal. Tired eyes. Controlled restraint carved into every line of his face.
Across from him lounged his elder brother, Duke Marius Ashbourne of Draconvale. Broader shoulders, sharper features. Short auburn hair, gray eyes cold and analytical. The type of man who smiled only when he'd already won. The faint scent of ink and roasted beans lingered between them.
"My son is proving himself to be a strong contender for the heir to the throne." Marius said, flipping lazily through a stack of reports. "He's almost caught up to Axel in aura mastery."
Aldric nodded once, gaze still fixed on his coffee. "Competition keeps the bloodline sharp."
Marius smirked. "You always say that. And yet your youngest has never understood competition, has he? Everyone knows he'll be stripped of the family name soon enough."
Aldric's reflection in the dark liquid didn't waver, but silence stretched too long.
Marius tilted his head. "Still hoping he'll change?"
Before Aldric could answer, a sharp knock broke the calm.
"Enter," the king said.
A palace messenger hurried in, pale-faced. "Your Majesty… urgent news from the Academy."
Aldric's eyes lifted. "What is it?"
"It's Prince Reiner. He's missing. His dorm was found empty this morning. The balcony door was—" the messenger hesitated "—turned to dust. A bottle of poison was discovered near his desk, but no body. The Academy suspects a kidnapping."
Tension seized the room. Marius raised a brow; Aldric's expression darkened.
"Begin a full investigation," the king ordered. "I want answers."
"Yes, Your Majesty." The messenger bowed and withdrew.
Silence returned, heavy and cold.
Marius exhaled, a faint smirk playing on his lips. "So that's how it ends. Either he was taken, or he took himself out of the equation. Either way, one less embarrassment for the family."
Aldric didn't look up. "You speak too easily."
"Please," Marius said, setting his papers aside. "Don't tell me you'll waste resources chasing after him. He was a defect, Aldric. You were supposed to exile him months ago. Now fate's done it for you."
Aldric's golden eyes finally lifted — not angry, not defensive. Just tired.
"I'll find out what happened," he said.
Marius leaned back, amused. "You've always been too sentimental. The Ashbournes built their name on strength. We don't chase ghosts, and we don't mourn weakness."
Aldric's voice came out low and steady. "Even if he was weak, he carried our name. Someone dared to touch an Ashbourne. That's not weakness. That's insult."
For a long moment, neither spoke. The only sound was the ticking of the clock.
Marius gave a humorless chuckle. "Of course. You're not doing this for him… you're doing it for the name."
Aldric said nothing. His gaze drifted toward the window, where sunlight bled over the distant training fields. His reflection in the glass looked older than he remembered — a man wearing the mask of duty to hide the death of belief.
He set his cup down, untouched.
"Find him," he murmured to no one.