Requiem of the Demon King

Chapter1:the awakening of a forgotten king

Darkness.

An endless void stretched beyond sight, a place where time had long since lost meaning. The world had crumbled, civilizations had risen and fallen, and yet, within this abyss, a slumbering force remained. Forgotten by history. Erased by the victors.

But fate was cruel.

A sudden pull. A whisper of ancient power stirring from its sealed state. Then, pain—searing, blinding pain. The sensation of flesh, of form, of breath.

And then—sight.

Golden eyes snapped open. The scent of blood filled the air. The weight of a fragile body pressed against cold stone.

A sharp gasp tore from his lips.

This body…

Memories surged—both old and new. The memories of a Demon King, once feared by gods and monarchs alike… and the memories of a boy, the youngest prince of a crumbling dynasty.

For a moment, he remained still, hands trembling as he processed the impossible truth.

He had been reborn.

A cruel joke.

The once-mighty ruler of darkness, the conqueror of realms, had been reborn as a powerless child, a prince without a future. His body was weak, frail from sickness and neglect, abandoned even within his own palace.

So this is what the heavens decided? To trap me in a decaying kingdom, left to rot in the shadows?

A smirk ghosted his lips. How ironic.

Then, the sound of steel clashing reached his ears.

Beyond the cold chamber walls, a battle raged. Screams echoed, flames crackled, and the scent of death filled the air.

His mind sharpened. An attack.

Then, he remembered—this was the Night of the Purge, the moment his so-called family would be slaughtered by their rivals. A coup orchestrated in shadows, a betrayal that would mark the fall of the dynasty.

Except, this time…

He was here.

He forced himself to move, ignoring the weakness of his new form. Power. He needed power. Even if this body was frail, his soul was not.

As he reached for the dormant force within, a spark ignited deep inside him. His smirk widened. Yes.

The seal on his power was incomplete.

The fools had tried to erase him, bury his existence—but they had failed.

The world had long since forgotten him.

He would make them remember.

He rose from the cold stone floor, his golden eyes gleaming as the first embers of his power flickered to life.

And outside, as blood painted the halls, a dark legend awoke once more.

A Forgotten Prince, An Unseen Power

The heavy scent of smoke and iron thickened the air as the boy stepped forward, his bare feet silent against the freezing marble floor. The grand palace—once a symbol of the empire’s might—now trembled under the weight of its inevitable fall.

Cries of agony rang through the corridors. The metallic scent of fresh blood mixed with the acrid burn of torches as flames devoured tapestries and wooden beams.

The boy—no, the reborn king—closed his eyes briefly. This is where the history of the Althion Empire should have ended.

A kingdom betrayed from within. Slaughtered. Burned. Forgotten.

But history had already changed the moment he opened his eyes.

A figure burst into the chamber. A soldier, clad in dark armor, his blade already dripping with the lifeblood of the royal family. His gaze locked onto the small boy standing in the center of the room, alone and unarmed.

A sneer twisted the man’s face.

“The last rat of the Althion bloodline.” The soldier’s grip tightened on his weapon. “Tch. Looks like even the sickly prince wasn’t spared.”

The prince did not move. He did not need to.

The soldier stepped forward, lifting his sword. “No hard feelings, kid. Orders are orders—”

CRACK.

The air shifted. The temperature dropped as an invisible force coiled around the room like a predator rising from slumber.

The soldier froze.

The boy tilted his head, golden eyes glowing with an unnatural light.

“Do you fear death?” His voice was soft, almost curious.

The soldier shivered. “W-What—”

He never finished.

Dark tendrils erupted from the floor, black as the abyss itself, twisting around the soldier’s limbs before he could react. A strangled scream left his lips as the darkness pulled, sinking into his flesh, draining the life from his body.

His sword clattered to the ground. His body followed moments later, now an empty husk.

Silence.

The boy exhaled slowly. His fingers twitched. The taste of power—even a mere fraction—was exhilarating.

Yet, his body trembled. The physical form of a weak prince could not yet contain his full strength. Not yet.

His time would come.

For now, he needed to disappear.

His golden gaze swept over the burning palace, the cries of dying nobles echoing in the distance. The empire had betrayed him.

He would let it crumble.

The world thought it had buried him in history.

They would soon realize their mistake.

And when they did—

They would kneel.