The power coursing through Nyx’s veins left him as quickly as it had appeared. The boundless energy faded as the burning flames subsided, leaving him feeling starved. His stomach rumbled loudly as Nyx stretched.

The area was covered in black polymorphic fluid, consisting largely of water and the mimic's inherent shapeshifting essence, which slowly absorbed into the dirt. It was satisfying to watch it disappear.

The flames had burned the dirt, blood, and grime from his body, leaving him oddly spotless after this struggle for survival. Aside from a growing feeling of hunger, Nyx felt great.

A gentle breeze of fresh air carried the scent of wet moss and resinous pine needles. He could hear the continuous gurgling of the nearby spring that joined the stream near the watermill and the chirping of birds throughout the woodlands. His senses felt heightened, and even his vision felt more vibrant, though Nyx had difficulty knowing whether this feeling came from an actual improvement or if he had just gone delirious from hunger.

The dream, which had been etched into his mind, was now quickly fading. The details of what their faces had looked like or what it had felt like to stand in their presence were now vague and difficult to describe. Gone, just like his newfound power. Was it a power he had in his previous life? Would he be able to reproduce it once he remembered fully? Was this how his mother and father always felt?

Nyx had underestimated how good this would feel and had largely planned to cultivate to make his parents and the Eternal Blossom Clan proud. But he could get used to this. Power like this was worth it in itself.

With a thunderous growl, his stomach protested further thinking and demanded that Nyx move on.

His xilix shirt was ruined; the mimic had torn it apart in multiple places, so he used it as a carrying bag for the core of the large mimic, the various scattered mimic teeth that had not shattered against his empowered body, as well as the remnants of the broken core of the smaller mimic.

Shouldering the sack of briga flour, Nyx passed the threshold of the torii gate, a survivor.

Everything seemed beautifully peaceful. The curbear cubs struggling against the barricade of the barn, the clucking of the chickens as they picked through the grass inside the ever-so-slowly moving chicken coop. Nyx eyed some objects suspiciously; the habit would likely stay with him for a while as his growing hunger added to his discomfort.

Then his younger sister Verx passed the corner, a large wooden bucket in her arms. She struggled mightily with carrying it, the bucket as large as her torso.

Nyx put down his things and hurried to help her before any accident might spill the contents all over the yard. “Let me help you. Verx, I told you not to make it so full,” Nyx complained as he saw the liquid almost overflow with every small step she took. However, taking it off her hands made it feel a lot lighter than it usually did. “I’ll carry it. How are the kukar?”

The green-skinned demon scoffed, caught between protesting that she did not need his help and reprimanding him for not helping sooner. Then her eyes wandered over Nyx’s body, and she settled on a third option. “Why are you not wearing a shirt? Pervert!” she called out and continued to slap his bare upper body and poke his sides in an effort to make him squeal and drop the bucket.

Her harassment did not have the desired effect. Verx’s attacks felt much more muted, and he could not help but smile at the absurdity of his situation. He had died just minutes ago. Almost died? It felt strange, as he remembered losing his arm and being torn open by the mimic, but his completely healed condition made it feel like a daydream.

“Stop it. My shirt is all torn up. I can’t wear it,” he complained as he weakly kicked in her general direction. His defensive move was immediately evaded and countered with more poking. Then the scent of the kukar milk wafted up to his nose, and his aching stomach gave him a sharp urge to eat—to drink this disgustingly light pink juice raw. Right here. Right now.

Nyx hated kukar milk. It was far too sweet, the consistency was odd, and everything made from the milk tasted so much better than the raw product.

Yet here he was, raising the bucket to his mouth and tilting it to drink from it.

“Wha—What are you doing? It’s not even strained yet,” his sister protested.

But the allure of nutrition was too strong. Nyx’s stomach happily welcomed anything. Even as he felt the coarse and grainy parts that were commonly part of raw kukar milk flood his mouth and stick to his teeth, and his taste buds could only taste the overwhelmingly sweet liquid, he kept drinking. Hungry as he was, this liquid was the best thing he had ever tasted.

Verx eyed him with furrowed brows and squinted her eyes, observing her brother in his strange act. Now that she looked more closely, his pants were missing a large chunk at his left ankle and at the back of his right thigh.

Even more curiously, had he grown taller? “You look different,” the cheeky green demon finally declared.

Nyx finally stopped obliging his urges and lowered the bucket, still almost fully filled. He looked at his sister curiously. “I look different?”

She nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, yes. You are—you are taller now, and—” She hesitated. “Your eyes are dark red now. Not black like before. And there’s something on your face.” She squinted again, while Nyx just shrugged and carried on.

“Wait. You pervert! Oh! Ohhh! And your horns have grown a bit!” She exclaimed, jumping up and slapping his forehead near the location where horns usually grew. “Is it because of your coming-of-age? That’s so cool.”

Nyx had never shown any sign of growing horns. It wasn’t too rare a phenomenon, but only one in every 50 demons grew them. Far fewer grew them when they were younger. Horns grew with age.

The immediate image in his head was one of fierce black horns that he could use to ram into his enemies with a headbutt. That reality quickly shattered as his fingers moved over a pair of stumps, barely larger than a fingernail.

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Verx kept jumping around him, poking him, and speculating about growing her own horns. It felt like any other day until his bundled-up belongings reminded him that this incident had indeed happened.

The simple-looking front door of the Eternal Blossom Estate was unassuming, yet the slight touch that Nyx applied to a decorative ornament instantly teleported him and his sister down into the estate's basement. The brief sensation of falling lasted only a moment, and the cool air of a shadowy hall welcomed them.

Here, hundreds of autonomous stone statues stood at the ready to receive goods. Nyx handed off the bucket and added to the abundance of enchanted storage containers that held years’ worth of harvests and perishable goods stored for centuries.

The Eternal Blossom Estate could have housed all of its 478 children, if they returned, for decades to come. However, most chose to add to this growing collection with their skills rather than deplete it. There were thousands of barrels of kukar milk alone, the steady harvest of each generation adding to a growing stockpile.

Nyx and Verx teleported back to the front door. There were a dozen other locations one could go through this door: great crafting halls for alchemy and furnaces for smelting tools and weapons; workbenches aided by golem assistants; vast libraries filled with books on how to enchant and inscribe; knowledge of foreign worlds captured in diaries and research papers; and a lot of fiction, recounting the exploits of great demonic heroes in foreign lands.

The thought made Nyx want to venture out into the world rather than read. He yearned for adventure.

Verx dashed ahead into the dining hall, loudly exclaiming that Nyx had grown horns, to the laughter of their father upon hearing it. His little brother immediately came running out of the room on his wobbly legs with a curious look on his face.

Before he could even react, Nyx had already scooped him up and walked with him back into the dining hall, the little demon curiously poking at his horn stumps.

Nyx felt his stomach protesting again as the smell of fresh bread and meat made his mouth water. The large table, which could be extended to fit hundreds, had shrunk to just the size to fit a few people. His father sat at the head of the table, a demon with light purple skin to his right, and his sister on the other side. “Azrk, have you said hello to our brother?” Nyx asked the little demon.

“Mm. Nosch yasch,” he confirmed and pointed at the purple demon. Nyx smiled and walked to shake his hand. “Brother. I am Nyx. 476th Brother of the Eternal Blossom Clan.” He was deeply curious to ask him questions about topics his parents did not like to discuss.

His outstretched arm was promptly locked in a warrior’s greeting. “Nox’Yanxiou. 91st Brother of the Eternal Blossom Clan. Got my memories back a few weeks ago. Our little brother told me all about you,” he said, poking Azrx’s cheek. “It’s your coming-of-age day? I’ll gift you something, then.” He studied him closely with a bright smile before his expression took on a sorrowful note. “When did it happen?” Yanxiou gestured at his own right cheek.

Suddenly, Nyx felt his father's sharp gaze on him, and his influence spread through the room like a wet blanket. It only happened for a brief instant, but it garnered everyone’s absolute attention.

His father gestured for Nyx to take a seat next to Yanxiou with his brother. The patriarch, second only to the matriarch, had a complex expression as he observed the shirtless demon. Nyx knew he should have gone and changed briefly before joining them. Then his father voiced his suspicion. “It happened today.”

“Today? But there isn’t anything—” Nox’Yanxiou raised his doubts with eyes wide open. His brows furrowed, and his body language grew tense. “There shouldn’t be anything around here that could pose a threat. What happened?”

Nyx unfolded the destroyed black xilix shirt he was carrying and showcased its contents while explaining what had happened to him. His father’s face grew from alert to concerned, and by the time Nyx had finished telling his story, the patriarch showed a hint of pride.

Then his mother joined, and after a quick gesture from his father, she almost dropped a plate of food, swarming all over him, checking his vitals and health. She loaded a ton of food onto his plate, urging him to eat and withdrew a fresh xilix shirt from her storage ring while Nyx told the story a second time.

Apparently, the burning sensation he had felt on his cheek had left a permanent golden mark there—a fine line no longer than a fingernail and about as broad as a shoelace. It would permanently mark his face as someone who had defied death itself.

“What is this mark? What does it mean?” Nyx asked with concern, his and his younger sister’s attentive gazes firmly rooted on their father, while Azrx exploited the opportunity to wrestle a paka cookie from underneath Nyx’s arm.

The patriarch nodded sagely and proceeded to create an illusionary projection above the dinner table, made of different colors of light, while the rest of the room darkened with a gesture from Nox’Yanxiou. He had a big smile on his face; apparently, it was not the first time he had heard this story.

“The original world of demonkind is called the Demonic Realm. Our great ancestor witnessed our world’s destruction by a great catastrophe, fleeing to this world, where he rebuilt. It is his goal to bring back all the lost souls through the cycle of reincarnation and unite demonkind once more.”

The projection showed the destruction of a city in brief flashes before a shadowy figure opened a portal and helped others flee. Then it showcased a land uninhabited: evergreen hills and valleys, and the efforts of demons as they built houses and cities Nyx had never seen before.

Nyx was reminded of his dream. Had he encountered a vision of the Demon Ancestor?

“A lot of energy is required to shield us away from our enemy, so our great ancestor devised a plan to harvest souls from other worlds. Every once in a while, a demon is chosen and summoned to serve. It is a noble but dangerous adventure, full of possibilities of death. And this practice is ensuring the peace and prosperity we live in today.”

His father continued to show his own memories: volunteering for a summoning, arriving in a foreign world. Adventure and battle, success and setbacks. And then showing the souls, the price of the summoning, being brought back into their world, fueling a giant barrier stretching across the entire continent demonkind inhabited.

Nyx nodded. This much he had known. Every story he had read had dealt with the noble purpose of serving everyone’s peace by getting summoned. A responsibility every demon carried. One that he would carry soon.

“While death only keeps us away from home for a while, as reincarnation takes time, there is one foe that can truly threaten us.”

The projection showed a terrifying abomination of steel and golden fire. Its light radiated, reducing entire cities to rubble, with white wings that carried it swiftly toward more destruction.

“Angels. Their fire can burn our very soul. They cut right through the chain of reincarnation. The only true death that demons can find in this world. They are rarely encountered and even more rarely slain.”

His father made the projection fade away after the abomination cut through a symbolic chain, and he fixed his gaze on Nyx.

“But every once in a while, they are. Killing them grants you a gift. A gift that forever alters your soul. Once reborn, it will protect you from your first death by restoring your body and mind and borrowing power beyond your abilities.”

The patriarch reached out to Nyx and caressed his cheek with a look of sadness and pride in her deep blue eyes. “You died today, Nyx. You are a Slayer of Angels.” Her thumb followed the golden streak that would forever mark him.

“And you were reborn through this Grace of Undying.”