"Those naive humans say some of them are akin to us demons. Malevolent, cruel, violent, and filled with apathy. How shallow of them to think that's all that we are. We're worst."
—Chief Roucnar, Commander of the 51st Demonic Battalion.
----------------------------------------------------------------
'The earliest memory I could remember was the terror of the battlefield.'
Putrid stench filled the air as the rotting bodies of creatures unknown decomposed under the scorching heat of the sun. The battlefield lay quiet. Only the faint howling of the wind and the buzzing of flies kept the deafening silence at bay.
Although hours have already passed since the clash ended, the ground remained ankle deep in scarlet liquid. Millions of unfortunate souls wept for their mortal bodies as they roamed through the ravaged battlefield, soon to be forgotten.
Proud warriors they once were, now lay breathless atop the once verdant green plain. A manifold of emotions was portrayed on each of their faces, telling the story of their demise: betrayal, satisfaction, and longing.
Observers in the distance knew very well that these warriors had no family to return to, as their entire purpose was to live and die on the battlefield, as all demons should. Soon their time would also come to clash on the same field where these fallen warriors breathed their last.
Atop the mountain of corpses rose a fortunate exception. The blood of countless fallen demons stained his robes. He stood up and stared at the crimson cloudless sky that was ever-present in the demon world. It looked more captivating than usual in his eyes. Was it because of the ichor-filled battlefield?
The observers that watched the young lad rise out of the pile of bodies simultaneously thought of one thing. Only the strong survived. As their eyes gazed upon him in awe, the young boy remained quiescent, for he knew that the sole reason he survived was due to sheer luck.
He did not fight nor even try to. He did not, run for there was no escape. He was knocked unconscious by his peers as they rushed towards the battlefield filled with bloodlust, and when he woke up, he found himself in the dark buried under a mountain of slain demons.
----------------------------------------------------------------
My back was laid against the cold hard dungeon wall as I reminisced, "I guessed I used up all my luck that early on in life, huh?" I chuckled, clutching the stump on my left shoulder that was once my left arm. I stared at the Demon Lord Vassago with scornful eyes.
"You've gone mad with fear," laughed the Demon Lord Vassago haughtily as he waved my left arm in the air, "Babbling about luck when all a demon needs is STRENGTH!" he declared, incinerating my left arm in front of me.
His eyes gleamed a purple glow, and suddenly an invisible force began to tighten around my neck, "This should teach you not to trespass into another demon's dungeon, I hope you learn your lesson," said the Demon Lord, Vassago, the corner of his lips slowly rising before he continued, "In the next life, that is," He laughed maniacally as the invisible coil around my neck began to tighten quickly.
I struggled helplessly as I tried to desperately grasp onto what was choking me. My eyes felt like they were going to pop out of my skull as it slowly tightened. My body instinctively gasped for precious air, but it was impossible. Hopeless and infuriated, I clawed at the ground with my remaining arm trying to reach the wretched bastard in front of me.
He looked at me like a maggot crawling on the floor as he stepped on my wrist. A wide smile was plastered on his face as he saw me struggling. He grabbed me by the horns and forced me to stare at him in the eye as my vision began to blink. He casually tore off the horn he was holding onto. It was an act of humiliation in the demon world. Seemingly satisfied in sullying my horns, he spat on my face and simply walked away, slowly lifting his palm and quickly closing it.
I felt absolutely livid. I fully knew that the action of him closing his palm heralded my demise. 'I SWEAR TO THE MALEVOLENT GODS, IF I EVER LIVE AGAIN I WILL MAKE ALL OF YOU SUFFER EXCRUCIATING DEATHS,' I cursed the bastard Vassago with my last breath.
Stolen novel; please report.
Suddenly, my neck felt free, and the sensation of my entire body became numb. The last sight I saw was the dungeon floor swallowing my vision as my head helplessly fell to the ground. Then the ceaseless embrace of darkness followed suit.
----------------------------------------------------------------
"Your wish has not fallen into deaf ears," a feminine voice echoed closely. I felt a chill travel down my spine. My eyes wearily shot from side to side, desperately searching where the voice came from.
A sudden realization hit me as I noticed something. My sensations...they're present... I instinctively began to feel my entire face with my hands, cold. I already knew I was dead, but I wasn't expecting my awareness to be intact even after death.
Ignoring that fact for later, I focused on the eery voice that just spoke to me and waited for it to speak once more. A few moments passed, and I was met with silence instead.
"W-who are you?" I stuttered, trying to ascertain if I had a voice, and fortunately, there was. My wary eyes kept roaming around, trying to grasp my surroundings. Four corners, white walls, and nothing else. Was this what they called the afterlife? I'm a bit disappointed.
"Demon lords, chosen demons that have been picked by the Gods themselves," The feminine voice spoke, ignoring my past question. My gaze was being pulled towards somewhere by some unknown force, and I couldn't resist it. What was happening? A little girl holding a stuffed teddy bear was innocently sitting on a small chair entered my vision. She had a blank expression plastered on her face.
Her gaze was fixed on her teddy bear as she continued, "They are a strong existence. The highest of the demonic race, but out of billions only 72 are chosen," The little girl chuckled. This child was simply sitting still, but my body, it won't stop shaking. This was the feeling of fear, but I didn't know why I was afraid.
She raised a finger and pointed it at me, "yet, you somehow came to existence. A possibility that should not have happened, or should I phrase it as an impossibility," she placed an index finger on her mouth. She shook her head before looking at me. I calmly met her gaze.
"Isn't that right? Rank 73rd Demon Lord Arzalon," like a lie, her blank expression transformed into a terrifying mischievous smile. My instincts were blaring red signals at me. Just who was this child?
I simply nodded my head, "I too have been wondering the same," I spoke briefly. The sacred and inviolable demon lords only counted till 72, no more, no less. The demonic race even considers them a different species altogether, an endangered species, that is. To think that I once believed my kin would be happy to have another member in their ranks due to our small number was a great mistake.
"You cursed the demon lords to suffer an excruciating death, before finally succumbing to death," She spoke, jumping off her chair and walked towards me while maintaining eye contact, "This devil has heard your dramatic plea, and I hath decided to give you a second chance,"
I stared at the child claiming to be the devil, raise her right hand towards me, offering a handshake. I couldn't help but feel uneasy. The 'devil' is giving me a second chance in life, which purely benefitted me. There has to be some sort of catch to this. It is the 'devil' after all.
"What will you gain in this affair?" I asked coldly. Even if this person turns out to be the actual devil. I had nothing to lose acting this way. I was already dead. What's she going to do? Kill me?
"You catch on quick, but I assure you there's nothing you can do that can benefit me. Watching you, my creation, was entertaining but you had died too quickly and it left me unsatisfied," The Devil answered, like a disappointed viewer after watching her favorite come to an abrupt halt.
'My creation,' those words resonated within my mind. I couldn't help but dislike the child in front of me. If she hadn't chosen me and disrupted the ranks of the demon lords, then my life wouldn't have gone to shambles.
"Anyways, you're not going to shake my hand, aren't you?" She clicked her tongue, "Many people would be delighted to even gaze upon the Devil herself, and I even offered you skinship," She stated.
That was a fact, but I found no pleasure in meeting someone higher than me. Was it because of the maltreatment of the 72 higher demon lords above me that I began to hate anyone who acted mighty? Surely, it is.
She clicked her tongue once more as she noticed me lost in my own thoughts, "Don't disappoint me, outcast," she continued, clapping her hands twice.
Suddenly a bright white light consumed my entire being. The last scene I saw was the child's face painted with displeasure. I couldn't help but feel satisfied.
My hearing went numb, and everything began to feel distant. My vision kept blinking. I couldn't move my own eyelids to my own will. It was as if someone else was opening and closing them for me.
My awareness flickered and stopped.
Then.
Then...
┌ ┐
Welcome Demon Lord, Arzalon
└ ┘
I was back in time.