Part 1
"The Night the Abyss Trembled"
The final night of the Abyssal Dominion should have been silent.
Instead, it roared.
The sky above the Demon Lord's citadel split apart like torn flesh, vomiting streaks of crimson lightning. Towers carved from obsidian cracked under the pressure of the mana storm forming above the capital. The ground vibrated with the footsteps of soldiers — not enemies, but his own legions, marching toward his throne room with blades drawn and bloodlust in their eyes.
Azeroth Valscion sat on the throne made of the bones of fallen gods, watching the betrayal unfold with the same calm gaze he had worn for centuries.
He didn't shout.
He didn't rage.
He simply observed — as if the entire world was a chessboard he had already mapped out in his mind.
When the first wave of traitors burst through the palace gates, his generals stood at the front. The ones he had raised, the ones who owed everything to him — the ones now pointing their weapons at his heart.
His voice didn't rise above a whisper.
"So… you finally lack the spine to kneel before me."
The leader of the rebellion, General Varkos, stepped forward. Once a loyal warlord, now trembling under the weight of his own greed.
"We had no choice, Lord Azeroth," Varkos said, though everyone could hear the lie rot in his tone. "The Archive must belong to the world — not to one ruler."
Azeroth's gaze sharpened.
"The Archive isn't yours to understand, let alone control."
The Archive of Eternum pulsed behind him — a floating monolith filled with swirling cosmic runes, chained to his soul. It hummed with knowledge forbidden to mortal minds, storing thousands of years of accumulated power, magic, artifacts, and truth.
The traitors wanted it for one reason:
Greed.
They couldn't kill him while the Archive was bound, so they devised a ritual — one designed to rip a soul from the body long enough to sever its hold.
Azeroth knew this.
He had known for a long time.
But knowledge didn't always mean prevention.
The ritual circle beneath his throne began to glow, symbols igniting in a purple flame that crept up the pillars and walls like hungry serpents. Chains of cursed mana shot upward, wrapping around him and pinning him to the throne.
His body burned.
His soul shuddered.
The Archive groaned like a sleeping titan waking from slumber.
Varkos pointed his blade at him.
"Die, Demon Lord. And your Archive dies with you."
Azeroth looked straight into his traitor's eyes.
And he smiled.
The kind of smile that made even gods step back.
"You think this is the end? Do you truly believe the Archive will bend to insects who gnaw at the hand that fed them?"
Varkos snarled.
"Kill him!"
Hundreds of spells flew.
Blades stabbed.
Mana detonated.
The throne room exploded in a blinding flash of ancient magic as the ritual reached completion. Azeroth's body burned away, turning into dust scattered across the palace floor.
The Archive screamed — a deep, cosmic wail that shook the entire world — and then collapsed into itself, vanishing into a single spark of light.
For the first time in history, the Abyssal Dominion fell silent.
And the name Azeroth Valscion was erased from the world.
Or so they believed.
Part 2
"Two Thousand Years of Silence"
The world did not mourn the Demon Lord's death.
It celebrated it.
Kingdoms lit bonfires. Priests sang hymns of deliverance. The races that once cowered behind enchanted walls raised their banners high, proclaiming the beginning of a "new era of peace."
Blind fools.
They never questioned why the Abyssal Dominion, which had endured since the First Era, collapsed so easily. They never asked how the most feared and strategic ruler in the world was slain by his own subordinates. They never wondered why the Archive — the greatest treasure in existence — vanished rather than fall into mortal hands.
They assumed victory.
They assumed salvation.
They assumed the world would now belong to them.
For two thousand years, the world prospered under this delusion.
Empires rose.
Kingdoms fell.
New religions formed.
New demon lords emerged — each weaker, more arrogant, and more foolish than the last.
New monsters evolved from ancient remains.
Technology blended with magic, forming magi-tech civilizations that believed they had surpassed the ancients.
Dungeons appeared everywhere — labyrinths of living stone that devoured adventurers and grew stronger era after era. Some were small pockets of mana, others were colossal worlds-within-worlds containing creatures that even dragons feared.
And somewhere in the fabric of reality, a single spark drifted, silent and ageless.
The last remnant of Azeroth's soul.
The Archive of Eternum clung to that spark, dormant, waiting, searching for the conditions to awaken again. But the betrayal ritual had been designed to scatter his essence across dimensions. His soul could not stabilize. It drifted between life and death, between past and future, between worlds that mortals could not comprehend.
Centuries passed.
Millennia slipped by.
Civilizations forgot his name.
Legends turned into myths.
Myths turned into bedtime stories.
And bedtime stories faded into dust.
Somewhere on the outer edges of existence, the Archive stirred for the first time in two thousand years.
A distortion rippled through the cosmic void, like a familiar voice calling from a faraway dream. The spark, once dim and nearly extinguished, flickered violently, drawn toward a new life.
The conditions were right.
The cycle had completed.
The time had come.
Azeroth Valscion would return.
But this time… not as a single man.
The magic of reincarnation was a fragmented, unstable phenomenon. His soul had been torn apart by the ritual — split into shards, each representing a facet of his identity.
When the world pulled him back into existence, it did not reforge him into a single vessel.
It created multiple vessels.
— A blacksmith boy in the capital, born weak and ordinary.
— A mysterious merchant who awakened the ability to access a magical web-network and sell information like a digital marketplace.
— A shadow-born thief raised in the slums, gifted with instincts no human should possess.
— A demon reborn deep beneath the Abyss, whose presence alone drove lesser demons mad.
— An adventurer with no past, no records, no name in any registry.
— And one more…
A child born with markings of an extinct race, whose eyes held the weight of forgotten empires.
Each fragment carried a piece of him.
Each fragment carried his talent.
Each fragment carried his will.
But the world didn't know they were connected.
The world didn't realize they belonged to the same soul.
Azeroth didn't just return.
He returned everywhere.
And when his fragments matured enough, when the Archive awoke fully…
The world would once again kneel.
His revenge would not be swift.
It would be slow, methodical, merciless.
He would dismantle every kingdom, crush every traitor, dominate every dungeon, and reshape the world exactly as he saw fit.
A new era would begin.
An era ruled by a being far beyond a Demon Lord —
a Sovereign who wielded multiple lives.
And in the deepest corner of the Abyss, where no mortal light had touched in 2000 years, the shadow of an ancient throne flickered back into existence.
The world had no idea.
But its nightmare had just been reborn.
Part 3
"The World That Forgot Its Predator"
The scholars of the current era called it the Age of Advancement.
They were idiots.
Yes, the world had grown. Yes, magic and technology had blended into something impressive. Yes, floating citadels, mana-reactors, elemental engines, and cross-continental portals existed now. But the truth was harsh:
They built all this on the ruins of knowledge Azeroth himself created.
The world believed it had surpassed the "dark ages" ruled by the Demon Lord. They didn't realize they were using diluted fragments of the ancient truths he once guarded.
Two millennia of peace turned minds soft.
Generations of security turned hearts naïve.
Knowledge without danger turned pride into arrogance.
Azeroth had built a world meant to survive cosmic predators. After his death, the world dismantled those failsafes, convinced they no longer needed a demon lord's caution.
They had no idea what waited beyond the horizon.
---
THE RACES OF THE CURRENT ERA
Humans
The most numerous and politically dominant race. Clever, adaptive, and overwhelming in military power. They built magi-tech empires and worshiped gods who never answered prayers.
Elves
Long-lived, magically gifted, arrogant as ever. Their forests hid secrets older than humanity itself — secrets even elves no longer knew how to read.
Dwarves
Master craftsmen with access to subterranean forging furnaces. They once forged legendary divine gear during Azeroth's era, but now only produce inferior imitations of what their ancestors created.
Beastkin
Warriors born with primal instincts and enhanced physical strength. Once the frontliners in Azeroth's army, now they serve as mercenaries or slaves in human kingdoms.
Demons
The Abyss fractured after Azeroth's death. Multiple demon lords rose, fought, died, and repeated the cycle until the Abyss became a chaotic hellscape with no true ruler. His absence broke the balance.
Dragonoids / Dragons
Their numbers dwindled. Arrogance consumed them. They hoarded treasures and knowledge but forgot how to rise above their instincts.
---
ANCIENT RACES — NOW EXTINCT (Or so everyone believes)
These races once shaped the world:
Astralborn — manipulators of cosmic mana
Vanir Giants — towering beings who forged galaxies
Primordial Seraphim — archangels from the First Flame
Nyxian Shadowborne — masters of void manipulation
Elder Dwellers — the architects of the first dungeons
Two thousand years erased all traces of them.
But one child had the unmistakable markings of an ancient bloodline — a vessel created from one of Azeroth's soul fragments.
The return of an ancient race was a sign.
A prophecy.
A warning.
Something the current world was too stupid to understand.
---
THE DUNGEONS OF THE NEW ERA
Dungeons weren't static anymore.
They were alive.
Conscious.
Adaptive.
Predatory.
And they had evolved far beyond what Azeroth left behind.
Some had learned to consume elemental storms.
Others grew limbs, eyes, and awareness.
A few developed personalities, forming contracts with mortals.
The worst of them awakened primordial instincts —
Monsters that absorbed skills.
Bosses that resurrected themselves.
Labyrinths that shifted like nightmares.
Adventurers believed dungeons were treasure-laden opportunities.
Azeroth knew better.
They were warnings from ancient civilizations.
Warnings the current world had turned into sport and entertainment.
All of this meant one thing:
The world was unprepared for his return.
---
THE SECRET ORGANIZATIONS
In the shadows, a few groups sensed something was wrong.
The Obsidian Circle
A cabal of mages obsessed with dungeon cores. Their experiments tore open dimensional cracks.
The Twilight Scripture
A religious sect that worshipped the "Forgotten Sovereign," unaware they prayed to Azeroth himself.
The Iron Dominion
A magi-tech empire experimenting with demon physiology. They created artificial demons… and lost control of half.
The Guild of Masks
A spy network manipulating global politics from the shadows. Their leader vanished after encountering an ancient ruin containing one line:
> "The Sovereign will walk among you again."
They dismissed it.
They shouldn't have.
---
THE TRAITORS — STILL ALIVE
The ones who betrayed him?
Most didn't die.
Some became rulers.
Some became gods.
Some fused with dungeons.
Some became immortal by stealing fragments of ancient power.
Two thousand years of stolen glory.
And Azeroth would rip it all away piece by piece.
---
THE WORLD WITHOUT A PREDATOR
For two thousand years, this world thrived under the illusion of peace.
A predator was missing from the ecosystem.
Nature abhors imbalance.
So chaos filled the void.
Human greed expanded.
Demon factions warred.
Dragons hoarded unchecked.
Dungeons mutated faster.
Ancient threats resurfaced.
Otherworld invaders peeked through dimensional cracks.
The world told itself it was safe.
It was wrong.
Because the one thing it feared most…
the one being who balanced all factions through sheer dominance…
…was now returning in six bodies.
And not a single fool in this era realized that the strongest era of the world was not behind them —
It was about to begin again.
Part 4
"Six Lives, One Will"
Reincarnation is supposed to be simple.
A soul dies.
A soul is reborn.
End of story.
But Azeroth's soul wasn't just any soul — it was a cosmic anomaly bound to the Archive of Eternum. When the ritual shattered his essence, it didn't just kill him. It broke him into conceptual fragments:
Will
Intellect
Instinct
Power
Emotion
Memory
The world couldn't contain those pieces in one vessel. So it did the only thing possible:
It created six separate lives.
Each born in different places.
Each with a different fate.
Each growing in separate corners of the world.
Each unaware of the others.
Each shaped by one aspect of the original Demon Lord.
They weren't clones.
They weren't avatars.
They weren't illusions.
They were him.
Different versions of the same being — different angles of the same blade.
And when they matured…
when the Archive fully awakened…
they would reunite into something the world was never built to survive.
THE SIX FORMS OF AZEROTH VALSCION
1. THE BLACKSMITH (Will Fragment)
Born in the human capital.
Weak. Ordinary. Powerless. Zero mana capacity at birth.
Everyone wrote him off as talentless.
But this fragment carried Azeroth's unbreakable will.
The trait that let him rule the Abyss for centuries.
As a child, he instinctively forged metal better than dwarves.
He created tools with perfect balance, weapons with eerie sharpness, and gear that reacted unnaturally well to mana.
He shouldn't have been able to do any of that.
But he did.
He would become the world's greatest forge master — the one who arms his other identities from the shadows. A nobody who changes the world without anyone knowing his name.
---
2. THE INFORMATION MERCHANT (Intellect Fragment)
The smartest of the six.
He awakened the Arcane Net, a magical-rune network constructed from the scraps of forgotten ancient tech. Using it, he created a global marketplace:
selling dungeon intel,
monster weaknesses,
noble scandals,
troop movements,
magical research,
artifact blueprints.
All anonymously.
He speaks in calm, calculating patterns.
Every word is deliberate.
Every deal is a trap that benefits him.
People think he's a mysterious oracle or an omniscient hacker.
They don't realize he's just Azeroth's brain, reborn.
---
3. THE SHADOW THIEF (Instinct Fragment)
This one grew up in the slums.
No parents.
No friends.
No education.
Just darkness, hunger, and survival.
But this body carried Azeroth's battle instincts — the reflexes of a warrior who fought thousands of battles.
He moves like a phantom.
He steals like he's weightless.
He escapes like he's untouchable.
Assassins fear him.
Guilds hunt him.
Criminals worship him.
He becomes the world's greatest infiltrator — the eyes and ears of everything Azeroth needs to know.
---
4. THE DEMON LORD REBORN (Power Fragment)
Deep in the Abyss, an egg of pulsating obsidian cracked open.
From it emerged a child born of pure demonic energy — the reincarnated embodiment of Azeroth's raw power.
This identity doesn't hide.
This one conquers.
Demons kneel instinctively when he walks.
Monsters bow without reason.
Abyssal storms calm at his presence.
He will rebuild the Abyssal Dominion.
He will crush the pretenders calling themselves "demon lords."
He is the fist of Azeroth.
---
5. THE ADVENTURER (Emotion Fragment)
This one was born with no memories at all.
No family.
No identity.
No past.
Only a nameless body with a gentle expression and a heart that feels too deeply.
He cries where others don't.
He laughs where others won't.
He bonds easily.
Humans trust him.
Elves adore him.
Beastkin follow him.
Girls fall for him instantly.
He forms the harem, but not cheaply — this is the version of Azeroth capable of connection, empathy, humor, and charm. The one piece of him that can naturally form deep, lasting bonds.
He becomes the emotional core of the story — the face the world sees.
---
6. THE ANCIENT RACE HEIR (Memory Fragment)
Born with markings of an extinct race.
Eyes that shimmer with cosmic light.
A presence that terrifies even dragons.
This one inherits Azeroth's memories, but only in flashes — enough to guide, not enough to overpower.
He can read ancient ruins, activate forgotten portals, and control relics no one else can even approach. He is the bridge between the old world and the new.
When his memories fully awaken?
He becomes the keystone that unlocks the Archive.
---
WHY THIS SYSTEM IS DEADLY EFFECTIVE
While the world thinks six prodigies just appeared…
They're actually one being, evolving from six angles:
Power
Strategy
Craft
Influence
Knowledge
Emotion
No one can predict him.
No one can counter all six.
No one realizes the disaster heading their way.
And when they eventually merge?
The new Azeroth will make the old Demon Lord look weak.
---
THE ARCHIVE'S AWAKENING
The Archive of Eternum is still dormant.
But every time:
the blacksmith creates a masterpiece,
the merchant cracks a new code,
the thief steals a legendary artifact,
the demon lord conquers a region,
the adventurer forms a deep bond,
the ancient heir unlocks a ruin…
…a fragment inside the Archive lights up.
Six lives.
One soul.
One destiny.
Azeroth Valscion is returning exactly the way he wants:
As a storm the world will never see coming.
Part 5
"The Sovereign's Return Begins"
The world spun quietly, unaware that its peace was already dead.
Somewhere in the Human Capital, a twelve-year-old blacksmith apprentice hammered metal with unnatural precision, each strike echoing with the will of a forgotten tyrant.
In a dim candle-lit room across the continent, a hooded merchant typed runes across a glowing crystal board, sending encrypted intel through the Arcane Net. Armies shifted, nobles panicked, guilds reacted — all according to a mind the world thought long erased.
In the shadow-soaked slums, a young thief sprinted across rooftops, slipping past guards with instinctive perfection. His heartbeat was steady, his breath controlled, his steps silent — a predator reborn through instinct.
Far beneath the Abyss, the ground trembled as a child-sized demon sat on a throne of bone. The moment he opened his crimson eyes, countless creatures bowed. This was power reincarnated — dormant, but undeniable.
At a frontier village, a kind-eyed adventurer smiled warmly at the party he had just saved. Girls blushed. Men admired. Children adored him. He didn't understand why their emotions gravitated toward him — but this fragment carried empathy, and the world responded to it naturally.
And in a forbidden mountain monastery, a mysterious boy with cosmic markings touched an ancient ruin. It glowed. It obeyed. It opened. Memory guided him through secrets no living scholar could understand.
Six lives.
Six beginnings.
One destiny.
---
THE TRUE SCALE OF THE WORLD
The world these fragments were born into was not the same world Azeroth once ruled. It had expanded, fractured, evolved. New continents rose from the sea. Old ones sank into the abyss. Mana tides shifted, revealing lands that even ancient races never charted.
And beneath the surface, three things remained hidden from mortal eyes:
1. Forgotten Worlds Beyond the Veil
Realms sealed away because their very existence invited destruction. Realms Azeroth once fought to contain.
2. Dormant Catastrophes
Colossal beings slumbering within the planet's core — remnants of the Primordial Age capable of wiping civilizations in minutes.
3. Cosmic Predators
Entities from other dimensions, watching the world like a farm left unmanaged for too long.
Azeroth used to be the wall that kept these nightmares out.
Two thousand years without him had weakened everything.
The world did not realize this.
But his return wasn't just revenge — it was necessity.
If he didn't rise again, the world would collapse under threats no one else could even perceive.
---
THE FATE OF THE TRAITORS
The ones who betrayed him thought they escaped justice.
They didn't.
Living for two thousand years came with a price.
They weren't free.
They weren't happy.
They weren't safe.
Every single traitor was trapped in a fate worse than death:
One became an immortal lich, bound to a dungeon core that devoured his sanity day by day.
One fused with a dragon and lost his identity, becoming a half-mad tyrant ruling a volcanic wasteland.
One became a spirit sealed inside a celestial kingdom, unable to touch the world without divine permission.
One became the very foundation of a mega-city, his soul chained beneath millions of walking mortals.
And the last…
He became a god worshipped by humans — yet unable to act without losing his stolen divinity.
They survived.
But they didn't live.
Their chains echoed across fate, waiting for the one soul capable of breaking them apart.
Azeroth didn't need to hunt them.
He simply needed to rise.
Because the moment he does…
their stolen power will collapse.
their immortality will fail.
their past sins will drag them into the abyss.
And he will greet each of them personally.
---
THE FIRST SHIFT IN DESTINY
At the same moment, across the world, all six fragments stopped what they were doing — for the briefest second.
The blacksmith paused mid-hammer.
The merchant's fingers froze over his runic interface.
The thief inhaled sharply atop a rooftop.
The demon child felt the Abyss tremble.
The adventurer's heart skipped a beat.
The ancient heir sensed a door opening inside his mind.
A whisper echoed through all six bodies.
A voice they didn't understand.
A voice the world had forgotten.
A voice that the Archive had finally awakened.
"I… have returned."
They didn't realize it was their own soul speaking.
They didn't know what awakened inside them.
But destiny shifted sharply, violently, irrevocably.
And somewhere in the cosmic void, the Archive of Eternum opened its first page in two thousand years.
The world shuddered.
The sky dimmed.
Mana rippled like a storm.
The Sovereign's return had begun.
---
THE ERA OF SIX DEMON LORDS
This is not the story of a demon lord reborn.
This is the story of:
a blacksmith reshaping nations from the shadows,
a merchant manipulating the world economy,
a thief breaking the unbreakable,
a demon rising to reclaim his dominion,
an adventurer uniting races without knowing why,
an ancient heir unlocking lost civilizations,
…all controlled by one soul.
Not reincarnation.
Not possession.
Not duplication.
A six-fold ascension.
And one day —
when the Archive fully merges the fragments —
the world will witness the birth of a being beyond demon lords, gods, or myths.
Azeroth Valscion —
The Sovereign of Six Realities.