Demon Kings Last Level

Valen’s Perspective

This boy’s life is strange. His room is filled with books he’s reread hundreds of times. His relationships are equally odd; he and his brother have a tension simmering between them, and his parents are hardly present—his mother is dead, and his father might as well be, for all the parenting he does.

Kyros is a prodigy in magic and more, but hand-to-hand combat? Not his forte without magical aid. Yet, something’s bothering me about him. His mana core has a faint crack, which is unusual—he’s never taken a hit directly to his core. I could repair it, maybe, but it leaves me curious. How did it get damaged?

As I linger here, I can feel his body instinctively trying to push me back. It’s weak, though, unable to hold me off. Still, there’s no thrill in occupying this body without a purpose, so I decide to retreat for now, handing control back to him.

Kyros’s Perspective

I jolted awake in my bed.

Wasn’t I just… getting beat up? I must’ve blacked out, and Nissa must’ve come back to help me. But how long have I been out? It couldn’t have been long… could it?

I swung my legs over the side of the bed, wincing as the cold floor bit into my feet. I tried to stand but stumbled, dropping back down. My whole body ached.

Something felt wrong. I reached inward, searching for my mana. Nothing. It was like a hollow emptiness inside me.

“Hey, stranger,” a voice said.

Startled, I looked up to see a man lounging in my chair, dressed in a sharp suit with neatly parted hair. He seemed completely out of place here.

“Who are you, and why are you in my room?” I demanded, my voice shaky.

He chuckled. “No need to shout; I can hear you just fine, even in your thoughts.” He glanced around with a faint smirk. “As for who I am… call me Valen.”

The name hit me like a thunderbolt. Valen. The same name as the Demon King of Fear, the one who was prophesied to reincarnate a thousand years ago. But no one had ever found him—at least, no one with real proof.

The man grinned, clearly amused by my shock. “Yes, that Valen. Or at least a fragment of him, though I haven’t quite pieced it all together yet.” He appeared by my side in an instant, placing a hand over my abdomen. “Your core… it’s damaged, and I suspect it might have something to do with that little trick you call ‘Mana Recycle.’ I think adding a valve to the flow would prevent further strain.”

I blinked, my head throbbing with questions. “A valve? How would I even start doing that?”

He sighed, sounding almost nostalgic. “Give me a moment. It’s been about eight thousand years since I last needed to tinker with a mana core.” He paced, deep in thought, his expression distant.

“What are you even doing here?” I asked, growing bolder. “And why me? Why my body?”

He looked down at me, his gaze unreadable. “As far as I can tell, I’m tethered to you, likely because your body was the only one capable of containing even a part of my soul.” He leaned back, crossing his arms. “And it seems I’m stuck seeing things through your eyes… for now.”

We sat in silence for a while, each of us lost in thought. Then he looked over at me, eyes sharp. “I’m going to ask you for one thing.” He raised a finger for emphasis.

I nodded, uncertain but intrigued. “All right. What is it?”

“Collect the pieces of my soul,” he said, voice deadly serious. “I’ll sense them when they’re near, but those who possess them might be able to conceal their presence if they’re aware. Just be warned—if you fail to gather them, I may have to abandon you in search of another host.”

I swallowed, understanding the weight of the task. “Fine. But in return, I want you to teach me magic. You’re said to be the strongest Demon King in history.”

Valen’s lips curled into a faint, chilling smile. “Agreed. But remember, should you falter, this arrangement will end.” He glanced at my core, placing his hand on my stomach. “As for that crack… I’ll fix it. But avoid using Mana Recycle until you’ve learned how to add those valves.”

A soothing warmth spread through my body as his magic flowed into me, healing every ache and bruise. I took a deep breath, feeling restored.

With a final nod, he stepped back, fading from view. Could you think about how to make those valves? I asked, hoping he could still hear me.

Silence. He was gone, at least for now.

I stood and made my way out of my room, only to hear someone call my name. I turned to find Nissa waiting in the living room, worry etched on her face.

“What are you doing here?” I asked.

She stood up, her expression softening. “I had to check on you. Are you all right?”

I gave her a reassuring nod. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

She looked me over, clearly skeptical. “Your bruises are gone… did you use healing magic?”

Thinking quickly, I ducked back into my room and grabbed a slightly charred piece of parchment. “I, uh… made this spell beforehand, just in case of emergencies. It takes a long time to prepare since I have to layer the magic, but… it worked.”

She raised an eyebrow but didn’t press further. “Well, I also wanted to tell you something yesterday, during our walk home…” She hesitated, guilt flickering across her face.

“Go ahead,” I said, steeling myself. Two possibilities crossed my mind—either she was finally going to admit she liked me, or… she was leaving.

She fidgeted, avoiding my gaze. “I… I’m going to Valgroth Academy.” She glanced down at her feet, her voice barely a whisper.

I laughed, unable to help myself.

She glared, cheeks flushed. “What? Do you think I’m not good enough to get in?”

I wiped a tear of laughter from my eye. “No, no, it’s just… you looked like you’d committed a crime or something. And for the record, I was planning on applying there, too.”

Her eyes lit up, and before I knew it, she had thrown her arms around me in a hug. Just then, I heard a door creak open, and my brother, Talon, stepped out of his room, watching us with a curious gaze.