(Ezikeil the heavenly Demon):
Ezikeil's awareness returned in fragments of shadow and malice.
The first sensation was not light or sound, but hunger—a deep, gnawing void in his core that pulsed with the rhythm of distant heartbeats. He floated in darkness that was not empty, currents of raw energy brushing against him like the fingers of unseen predators.
Cold fire licked at his edges, sharp and suffocating, whispering promises of violence and dominance.He opened his eyes.
A crimson sky stretched above, choked with swirling black clouds pierced by veins of violet lightning. The ground beneath was cracked obsidian plain, bleeding shadow instead of dust, stretching to jagged mountains that devoured the horizon.
The air tasted of ash, blood, and endless rage.This was no place he knew.Ezikeil stood, testing his new form.
Tall and lean, wrapped in coiling mist that served as flesh. Skin like polished night, veins glowing faint crimson. Hands ended in elegant claws, horns curved back from his temples like crown-blades. Shadow flame burned silently around him.
Power thrummed in his core—raw, instinctive, far cruder than the qi he had once cultivated, but no less potent. He flexed his fingers, energy obeying instantly. Strength ruled here, as it always had.
But this body felt... incomplete, like a vessel half-filled.He scanned the barren plain. Distant shapes moved—hulking figures prowling for prey, their roars echoing like thunder in bone.
No wind stirred, yet the haze shifted, carrying scents of fresh slaughter. Ezikeil closed his eyes, extending his senses. Violence saturated everything. The weak were food. The strong were kings.
Not so different from the world he remembered.He might have lingered, testing this body's limits.
But a force seized him without warning—a hook sinking into his essence, yanking with irresistible pull.
The sky blurred, ground dissolved. Space folded around him, ripping him from this reality into another.
Ezikeil did not resist. Resistance against the unknown was folly.Darkness spat him out into bloodlight.
He manifested in a circle of wet runes, their glow fading as his presence overwhelmed them. Stone floor slick with sacrifice, symbols drawn in human blood that still steamed.
Around the circle lay bodies—eight in total. Men and women, throats neatly slit, eyes vacant. Wounds told stories of prior suffering: crushed limbs, sword gashes, burns.
Candles guttered in iron sconces, casting long shadows on damp walls carved from natural cave.Underground ritual chamber. Crude, desperate work.Before him knelt a lone human.
Young man, early twenties, ragged clothes crusted with mud and old gore. Dark hair matted, face gaunt with sleepless hate.
Hands trembled, but eyes burned steady, locked on Ezikeil with desperate fervor."It... worked," the man breathed. "A demon.
You're real."Ezikeil tested his form. The misty body held, but flickered at edges—mist thinning, outline wavering. He was anchored, but tenuously. Spiritual presence forced into temporary shape by ritual magic.
No true flesh. When the circle fully died, the summoning would collapse.He was a guest here, not a resident."Where am I?" Ezikeil asked. Voice smooth, low, carrying the weight of mountains unspoken.
The summoner flinched, then straightened. "This world. This continent. Above us was Havel Village. Now it's ash.""Was," Ezikeil noted.The man's fists clenched, knuckles white. "Bandits.
The Black Vulture Company. Mercenaries without honor. They raided three days ago. Killed everyone—my family, neighbors, elders. Burned homes, poisoned wells, took survivors for slaves. I hid in the caves.
Found this ritual in a forbidden tome from a ruined chapel."He gestured at the bodies. "These... were refugees. Broken from other raids. I offered them purpose. Revenge. They agreed. Eight lives for a demon strong enough to crush our enemies."Ezikeil glanced at the corpses.
Fresh kills, efficient cuts. Willing sacrifice, hatred-fueled."You summoned me for vengeance," he said."Yes." The man's voice hardened. "Kill them. All of them. Their leader, Gorath—cursed blade, unnatural strength.
His captains. Every dog that followed. Make them suffer as we did."Ezikeil stepped forward. The circle's remnants sparked, then shattered. No restraints could hold him. The summoner—Rian, his name surfaced unbidden—watched warily, hope and fear warring in his eyes.Ezikeil's form flickered again, arm translucent.
An unseen pull tugged stronger, calling him back to the crimson sky. Time short. This world rejected foreign spirits without proper vessel.He needed permanence. Flesh.Eyes locked on the corpses.
Fragile alone, but merged... viable."Tell me of this world," Ezikeil commanded. "Its powers. Its rulers. Its dangers."Rian blinked, surprised by questions over immediate action, but obeyed. Answers were currency he could afford.Rian took a shaky breath.
"This is a world where humans, monsters, and other races fight for survival. Humans control cities and kingdoms. We have kings, nobles, councils.
Some nations are strong, with powerful mages or knights. Others are weak, prey for bandits and beasts."He paused. "Magic comes from particles in the air—magicules, they call them. They're everywhere, but thicker in wild places. People with talent become mages: they control fire, water, wind, earth. Strong mages summon barriers, warp space, call spirits.
Knights strengthen their bodies with magicules, becoming faster, tougher."Ezikeil nodded slightly, absorbing. Like qi, but wilder."Monsters roam forests, mountains, caves. Goblins, orcs, wolves that grow huge. Some evolve into stronger forms. There are dragons, giants, things that can destroy armies. Adventurers hunt them—ranked from weak to legendary.
They take jobs: kill monsters, guard caravans, explore ruins.""What of lords above monsters?" Ezikeil asked.Rian shuddered. "Demon Lords. Beings of nightmare. Some rule lands with armies of monsters. Others wander alone, destroying whatever they touch. When they fight, kingdoms vanish. Humans fear them most.
Churches preach against them, send holy knights."Ezikeil's form wavered, fingers fading. Pull intensified."Summoning like this?" he pressed."Forbidden," Rian said quickly. "Punished by death in most places. Demons like you crave souls, chaos. Lesser ones slip through cracks. Greater ones need rituals, sacrifices. If control fails, rampage follows. But some nobles use demons secretly as weapons.
""World's structure?""Continents separated by oceans. Humans in the center. Beastmen south, dwarves in mountains, elves in deep forests. Trade happens, but wars too. Churches worship gods of light, hunt heretics. Magic surges sometimes—evolution events where monsters grow smarter, stronger."Ezikeil felt dissolution accelerate. Minutes left."Skills and power?""Voice of the World gives gifts.
Common skills are basic—resist heat, pain. Extra skills more useful. Unique skills rare, powerful. Ultimate skills change reality. Naming binds souls, makes monsters evolve fast."Ezikeil understood enough. Hierarchy. Magic. Monsters.
Same logic: strong devour weak.His form dissolved further—half gone. Pull like chains.He needed anchor. Flesh.Eyes on Rian. No sentiment stirred. The man had served his purpose—summoning, knowledge.
Now, utility ended.Rian sensed the shift, eyes widening. "Wait—you'll kill the bandits first, right? You promised—""I made no promise," Ezikeil said coldly.Shadows uncoiled, flooding floor like ink. Rian screamed as tendrils seized him, lifting corpses too.
Flesh softened, bones cracked, blood boiled to vapor then reformed. Eight bodies and the summoner deconstructed: skin to sheets, muscle rewoven, organs fused, bones ground denser.No mercy. No hesitation. The cold-hearted Heavenly Demon needed a vessel. Humans were materials.
Room chilled. Candle flames bent away. Mass shrank, sculpted—tall frame, pale ashen skin, dark hair to shoulders, crimson eyes calm. Shadow mismatched, too deep, too alive.Ezikeil inhaled. Lungs expanded. Heartbeat steady. Nerves sang crisp. Perfect vessel—human shell housing Greater Demon core, amplified by nine lives.
Pull vanished. Anchored.He rolled shoulders, feeling power flow unhindered. Stronger than any human here.Rian-essence lingered faintly in the weave—silenced, absorbed.Ezikeil stepped from remnants, steaming footprints on stone.The summoner had been useful. Now he was part of something greater.He moved toward the stairs without a backward glance.
The surface world waited—its bandits, kingdoms, monsters. None mattered yet.This new world would learn his strength on his terms.
--------------------------
(Note for readers: This takes place 800 years before Rimuru Tempest's arrival. The world is wilder, Demon Lords fewer and more chaotic)
-------------------------