"My head… hurts."
The words escaped quietly from the lips of a young man as consciousness slowly returned to him. His eyes opened with difficulty, his vision blurred and unstable as if the world itself had not fully formed yet. A dull ache pulsed behind his temples, spreading through his skull like the fading echo of a memory that no longer existed.
When his sight finally cleared, the first thing he noticed was the strange emptiness surrounding him.
White fog stretched endlessly in every direction. It was thick and silent, swallowing everything beyond a few meters of visibility. There was no sky above him, no clear ground beneath his feet, and no distant horizon to anchor his sense of direction. The mist wrapped around him completely, creating a space that felt detached from reality itself.
The young man slowly pushed himself upright. His body felt unusually light, almost hollow, as if something important had been taken away from him. His skin was pale, nearly lifeless in color, stretched thin over a narrow frame that revealed the sharp outline of his bones. The clothes hanging loosely on his body were torn and dirty, suggesting that whoever he had been before arriving here had not lived comfortably.
Yet none of those things bothered him as much as the emptiness in his mind.
A faint pressure formed behind his eyes as he tried to remember something—anything. His past, his life, the path that had brought him to this strange place… even something as simple as his own name.
But every attempt returned the same result.
Nothing.
It was as if his memories had been erased completely.
For a brief moment he stood silently within the fog, absorbing the strange realization. Most people would have panicked in such a situation. Fear, confusion, and desperation would normally follow the discovery that one's entire life had vanished.
Instead, the young man simply frowned slightly.
"Well," he muttered to himself, "that's inconvenient."
Before he could think further, a deep voice suddenly echoed through the fog.
"Do not worry, boy."
The voice was calm, yet it carried a strange weight that seemed to vibrate through the mist itself. It was powerful, ancient, and completely unfamiliar.
"You are already dead."
The young man blinked once, then slowly looked around the empty space.
Instead of panic, curiosity appeared in his eyes.
"Oh?" he replied casually. "If I'm already dead, then why hide in the fog while telling me that?"
A faint smirk appeared on his lips as he continued speaking.
"Or are you too ugly to show your face?"
For several seconds, nothing happened.
The fog remained perfectly still, yet something in the atmosphere subtly changed, as if the unseen speaker had been caught slightly off guard by the response.
Then suddenly, a powerful light burst through the mist.
The brightness was overwhelming, forcing the young man to raise his arm to shield his eyes. The endless fog trembled and parted, pushed aside by an invisible force that filled the entire space with an immense presence.
After a few seconds, the light gradually faded.
When the young man lowered his arm again, a figure was standing in front of him.
The being was far taller than any normal human. Two massive black horns curved upward from its head like the crown of some ancient king. Its eyes glowed with a deep crimson light that burned like embers in darkness. A dark aura drifted around its body, thick and heavy like blood-colored smoke.
The creature wore elegant royal garments decorated with strange symbols that seemed older than history itself. Even without moving, the being radiated authority and power so overwhelming that the air around it felt heavier.
It looked down at the young man and smiled faintly.
"I am Den," the figure said calmly.
"The Demon God."
The title echoed through the fog like distant thunder.
The young man studied the creature quietly. His gaze moved from the horns to the glowing eyes and finally to the strange aura surrounding the figure. Any normal person would have collapsed in fear under such overwhelming presence.
But the young man simply observed him with calm interest.
Den tilted his head slightly.
"Tell me, boy," he asked, a hint of amusement in his voice. "Do I look ugly?"
The question seemed oddly casual coming from a being that radiated such terrifying power.
The young man considered it for a moment before stepping forward slightly.
"Let me guess," he said slowly. "You need something from me."
Den raised an eyebrow.
"And in return," the young man continued, "you're planning to give me some kind of reward."
The Demon God watched him silently.
"And you're already agreeing?" Den asked.
"Yes," the young man replied without hesitation. "I don't exactly have any other offers right now. If a god is offering power after death, refusing sounds like a very stupid decision."
Den's expression hardened slightly.
"Are you mocking me, boy?"
"No," the young man answered calmly. "I'm simply being practical."
For several long seconds, the Demon God stared down at him.
Then suddenly, Den laughed.
The sound echoed through the empty world, deep and powerful.
"I like you," the Demon God said with clear satisfaction. "Most humans tremble the moment they see me. Yet you start negotiating immediately after waking up."
Den slowly raised one clawed hand, and the surrounding fog began to swirl around him.
"Listen carefully."
"Gods gain their power from devotion—from those who believe in them and worship them. The greater the number of believers, the stronger the god becomes."
His crimson eyes darkened.
"But in my world, angels and humans formed an alliance. Together they destroyed my temples, hunted my followers, and slaughtered the demons who once worshiped me."
"My devotees vanished one by one."
"My power weakened."
"And now even the remaining demons have begun to doubt my existence."
The air grew heavier as Den stepped closer.
"So I require a successor," he continued. "Someone who will act in my name. Someone who will restore my faith and make demons worship me once again."
The young man listened quietly as the Demon God finished speaking. For a moment he lowered his gaze, thinking about the offer.
Then a small smile appeared on his face.
"I'll do it."
Den looked slightly surprised.
"So quickly?"
The young man shrugged.
"Well, being dead sounds boring," he said casually. "But becoming the right hand of a god sounds interesting."
Den's smile widened.
"Excellent."
The Demon God extended his hand, and darkness began gathering in his palm. It twisted and condensed until it formed a small flame that burned with unnatural intensity.
The fire did not look normal.
It resembled a fragment of pure darkness—a burning piece of the abyss itself. The flame twisted strangely, radiating an ancient power that made even the surrounding fog tremble.
"Then listen carefully," Den said.
"I, Den—the Demon God—declare this human to be my successor. From this moment onward, we shall share the same blood."
The dark flame suddenly shot forward.
In the next instant, the young man's entire body was engulfed by the black fire.
The flames wrapped around him like a living creature.
Yet strangely, he felt no pain.
Instead, something vast surged through his body.
Power flooded his veins like a raging storm, spreading through every part of him. It felt ancient, violent, and limitless.
Den watched the scene with clear satisfaction.
"And from this moment," the Demon God declared, his voice echoing through the endless void, "the name of my successor shall be Kael."
Inside the burning darkness, the young man slowly lifted his head.
His eyes had turned completely black.
And for the first time since he had awakened in the fog, the empty world around them began to tremble.