I remember clearly, that during the first year of my life as Luqa, my mother Clara spent every moment she could with me. She told me of every single thought that popped into her head without restraint.

Her smile radiated infectious happiness. Her expressive joy made me feel loved.

Every time I spoke as an infant, she delighted with joyous laughter that I couldn’t understand. Why did this woman love me so?

Every morning, she woke me up with a dizzyingly energetic greeting. Every night, at dinner, she watched me contently as I scarfed down her cooking. Was it simply because I was her son?

Every year, as I grew taller and taller, she remarked on it, apparently impressed that I was growing. Why did she go so far for me?

Every single word she uttered to me, I still remember vividly.

And those last words she said to me resounded the most in my head.

“Live on.” “I love you.”

They filled me with a warmth that protected me from the despairing thoughts that refused to escape my head. A lingering warmth that stayed with me. But that was all that was left of her.

I would never see her again.

I would never be able to repay her for the happiness and love she gave me.

She would never see her only son grow up.

As I opened my eyes, I found myself face down, swept onto the shores of a calm lake. Gripped tightly in my right hand was my mother’s staff. I had recovered the strength that escaped me last night. The dim light of the moon bathed the scenery before me.

I turned over, laying on my back, doing nothing for a while but staring at the night sky, looking at the stars, aligned in constellations that haven’t changed in all these centuries. Nothing has changed in the skies.

Nothing has changed.

What the hell have I been doing these past eight years? If only I had done the transmigration spell correctly, I could have avoided all this. I would’ve had the power and knowledge I need to avoid that tragedy.

But it didn’t turn out that way. I messed up again. I caused the deaths of loved ones again. I let innocent people die again. What the hell was the point of this second life?!

…In fact, my mistakes started at the beginning of my reign as Demon King. Was I, whether Malachi or Luqa, doomed from the start?

***

A squad of knights had arrived within the walls of the city of Cautres, within the Millieun Empire, not far from the great wall marking the boundary between human nations and the demonlands. The wagon they guarded held priceless goods — demon children. For certain eccentric nobles, demon slaves were extremely valuable. But their purpose would be for a cause grander and more significant than merely serving as slaves.

Unexpectedly, a girl with auburn hair and short horns escaped from the back of the wagon, the ropes on her still tightly wound. She flew out as if carried by the winds.

“What the hell! Go after her!” The leader of the squad ordered.

A few knights went after her, but they soon lost the trail of the girl, left with no choice but to report their failure.

“Shit! She could use magic?! We can’t cause too much of a commotion searching for her. This is supposed to be under wraps,” the leader said in reaction to his troops’ failure. “You five, search for her. Captain Alphons might just kill us all if we fail.”

“Y-yes, sire!”

Their mission would never be completed, however. Within a dark alleyway drenched in a horrid stench, hid a girl, sitting against the wall, with cut ropes at her feet. Her auburn hair had turned blond, her green eyes turned hazel and her tiny horns were hidden away. She hoped her illusion magic would make her unrecognizable, nothing but simply a common street urchin living in the dark recesses of the city.

After the events that had happened the past few days, she wanted nothing more than to wake up from this nightmare — to sit up from her bed and find this was all a cruel dream, that her mother and father would greet her good morning, that Tavarius would take her along on an adventure, that Luqa would continue to train magic with her.

But the nightmare continued.

The girl recalled the face of someone she hated with every fiber of her being: that blond knight. The one who had brutally killed her father, who had amputated her cousin. Her fingernails dug into her scalp; her toes curled, scraping the dirt beneath her.

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She swore to kill him, to show him even a fraction of her anger. But the words of Luqa from years before suddenly popped into her head. A childish promise from long ago.

“Yep, I’ll keep that same promise dear then. I won’t do anything bad like that anymore. I’ll use magic only to do good things.” Luqa swore in her memories.

The girl was conflicted. She had made a promise to only do good with her magic, in exchange for Luqa holding himself to the same promise. Was dedicating her magic for revenge against one man something Luqa would want her to do? What did it mean to do good?

If not revenge, what would she live for?

She sat, deep in thought, before recalling the promise the three of them had made the night before the knights’ invasion.

“…We’ll see the world with each other…”

She looked up at the cloudy sky, wondering where in the world the other two were and if they were even alive.

***

A one-armed demon boy lay imprisoned in a cold, damp cell, his legs and arm chained to the walls. Enchanted bracelets and necklets restrained his inherent strength, leaving him a helpless prisoner awaiting an unknown fate. A blindfold deprived him of his vision, leaving him in an uncertain darkness. A mouth covering prevented him from speaking, leaving him quiet in a deafening silence.

He was left to stew in his thoughts.

One emotion dominated his mind.

Rage.

Rage for the uncle that was brutally killed in front of his eyes.

Rage for the aunt he would never see again.

Rage towards the Holy Knights who had ravaged his village and separated him from his friends and family.

And in his unbridled rage, repressed memories resurfaced once more.

Two parents living in a frontier village as medicinal healers in a human kingdom. A plague that spread in the village. Irrational suspicion towards him and his parents. Who else could be the cause? What else could be to blame but the demons?

A mob of villagers burning down their house one quiet night. Violent humans dragging his parents to the forests. Him running away, hiding among the trees. Watching as his parents were brutalized, lynched, and left hanging lifeless among the trees.

Endless running deep into the forests, living like an animal up in the north. Found by his uncle who had heard of the terrible news. Adopted and treated like a son. Finding happiness once more.

And now that family he had found in the village of Wehrau was taken from him again. Again by humans.

He had grown tired of playing victim, being beaten by the world. Being a plaything for humans. Power. He needed power. He needed enough power to wipe away all of his enemies. The ones who had been the source of all his problems. The humans.

Enchanted chains creaked as the boy struggled against them. If he could scream, his cries of anger would fill the cell endlessly, repeatedly.

As he fought and pulled against the chains, he couldn’t help but recall the promise he made to his cousin and Luqa.

“…We’ll become famed adventurers, known throughout the continent. We’ll see the world with each other…”

His struggle against the chains stopped momentarily before continuing on with renewed strength.

***

The newly crowned Demon King Malachi was only yet 17. No one had expected this once cowardly and weak boy to inherit the mantle of Demon King.

And his first act had indeed been a cowardly one, criticized by many. To run away. To run away from the centuries of war on the Demon Continent. To give up the fight against their mortal enemies. To take his people to a place where they could live in peace. But it was an act that many more supported. Centuries of suffering had broken their will to fight, leaving only a desire for peace.

The young Malachi looked onto the horizon optimistically as his ship sailed on. He would do it. He would find a place where demons could truly live in happiness, where they could escape the doomed fate that had befallen them.

***

Hmph, I had such lofty expectations back then. So naive. Now I’m just a bundle of regrets.

Sigh.

I’m tired of feeling this way. I’m tired of blaming fate, of treating my life like a tragedy. I’m tired of doing this again and again.

My mother’s last words continue to echo through my head.

“Live on.”

Right. I can’t die here. Not after my mother raised me painstakingly for eight years.

Live a life unlike mine.

My past self’s words came to mind as well.

Fine, I’ll try this time. I’ll stop lamenting and moping around. I’ll live on then. And happily.

I’ll live such a god-damned fulfilling life that all of the joys of this life will wash away the blood and tears of the previous. I’ll spit in the face of the cruel goddess of fate who spun such tragic threads for my life, for the demons.

I haven’t lost everything. Those holy knights, their goal was to round up demons and hold them captive for some purpose. Lucia, Tavarius, Ersham, all the villagers, they may still be alive. Helena could also still be out there.

My own words, my promise to Lucia and Tavarius, rang through my head as well.

“We’ll see the world with each other.”

Hmph. How cheesy. The Demon King tearing up over a promise between children. But a promise is a promise. I told them to their faces I wouldn’t forget about it. I’ll see it through even if I have to fight against the gods of this world.

In hindsight, I’m glad I was born in the village. Those villagers did what I thought could never happen. Demons living in peace, and with humans. Helena and Clara seemed like they found true tranquil happiness there. But this fragile happiness was destroyed.

I’ll make a world where happiness like that can bloom and thrive freely without threat, where even I can forget and move on from this damned Great Demon War of the past. What I wanted in the past and what I want now... it's not too different, isn't it? Even if I have to tear the world upside down once more, this time I’ll see my wishes through to completion, without making the same mistakes again. No half-assing.

But before all of that big talk, I need power.

I’ve grown weak. Embarrassingly so. I thought these past years that I was a child prodigy, more skilled and powerful than even most adults, but that wasn’t enough by any means. I’ll build up the power I need to change the world — to grasp the true authority as the Demon King, the demon supreme all. This time though, I’ll use that power to fix my mistakes and properly fulfill my wishes, to become someone whom that human woman who loved me as her son could be proud of.

Enough blaming myself.

I stood up, using my mother’s staff to prop myself up, gazing into the now morning sky, watching the sunrise from the mountains towards the east. I reached my hand out as if to grasp the sun. The morning sun radiated a comforting warmth, welcoming me to a new day.

The Demon King will be back.

No more regrets this time, I swear.

[ End of Arc 1: Rebirth ]