I, the Firstborn of the Demon King

Red magic cracks the heavens, crimson and black lightning shattering the grey, stone plateau. Small fragments of stone hover ethereally, suspended in the air, drifting in the sky. They hang motionless, aligned with the frozen black raindrops above.

Finally…

The end one meets is silence and nothingness…

In the end, everyone stands alone.

Alone...

The sobs of the gray, naked creature—bones creaking as he crawled on all fours, hunched over, covered entirely in filth and skin hanging like a sack over its skeleton—become inaudible beneath the pure magic around, a power surpassing time and life itself. His skeletal body matched the way his nose was sunken in, the area above covered entirely in flesh with no hint of eyes left. The blind wretch, fallen on his knees, witnessed the rise, fall, and departure from existence of his first and only, greatest and last master.

If only he could see her one last time... Ah, if only he could gaze upon the face of his precious one, this frail existence once more, before the blindness consumed it entirely...

"Hoverda, mine loyal servant, mine friend, who leaveth me not in mine loneliness..." The woman’s voice reached his ears, filling him with a joy and meaning greater than anything. Once again, he understood the purpose of his existence. The voice of the one he worshipped, so beautiful... She was perfect in every way...

"The human, cursed with immortality, the pains thou hast endured on mine behalf art countless..." The woman’s voice brimmed with gratitude, a kind that, even with her harsh and unreachable tone, was only for him. "Even in mine final moments, thine presence bringeth me joy, but this path must be tread alone." His Divine's voice left no room for doubt or argument. And that was what made his heart ache even more. The most loyal servant who had always followed her, he couldn't bear to have his life’s purpose taken away. Even if his soul was torn into the finest pieces, leaving him with no chance of rebirth, he didn't care. He only wished to go with her, to follow his deity's shadow until the very end.

"Take me with thee, mine precious... Dead or alive, take me with thee..."

As he wept silently, his thin neck bowed, forehead pressed to the ground, he felt a hand on his head, firm and cold.

It was the hand of his deity, the precious touch he cherished.

"I can do little for thee, but at the least, I can prevent thine soul from being trapped in this life." Her sharp claws dug into the thin skin of his bald head, drawing forth drops of red blood. "Thou hast served me greatly in this life, let this be mine repayment." As his soul was pulled from his body, his entire being—body and spirit—was engulfed in a cacophony of pain, burning, tearing, rotting, and shattering. When his soul was fully drawn out, his body lost his strength, collapsing to the ground. Despite the agony of death, the servant whose life was taken by his deity bore a wide, joyous smile, proud of the honor bestowed upon it.

She watched his body without expression, the glow of the rapidly pulsating, flickering soul between her claws visible only to her eyes. As she held it in her hand, a gentleness and tenderness rarely seen from her emerged.

She then placed her other hand on her chest, closing her eyes, and in the next moment, plunged her hand into her own chest. The sound echoed like the shattering of hundreds of layered glass pieces breaking at once. A dark void formed in her chest, like a black hole, and her hand lingered there. When she finally pulled her hand out of its darkness, a small fragment of a soul, glowing in a burning mix of red and yellow, lay in her claws. Although it was tiny and merely a piece of her soul, it shone brightly throughout the space.

She whispered to the fragment, "Guide him there, help him out of the darkness."

At the very least, she could do this for her faithful servant in her final moments in this existence.

The soul fragment, resembling a sphere of fire, flickered a few times before finally flying on its own to the side of the other glowing soul. It embraced it and began to drift away, toward the border of darkness, to the unknown.

The woman sighed. At last, she could reach her End. The boundary of rise and fall, the invisible border stretching for miles, awaited her to cross.

The loyal servant, who finally saw his deity before his soul faded into nothingness, gazed at her with longing before losing the ability to see.

Ah, so beautiful... Even more than he remembered...

The woman cast one last look with her dark eyes, "Take care in thy next life, mine loyal servant." With that, a blinding veil of darkness drew between them.

"Fare thee well, Hoverda..."

...

Suddenly, he awoke, gasping for breath, his eyes wide as he scanned his surroundings. The dark room was lit by a few candles; without them, the room, surrounded by a magical circle that blocked the sounds and light of the outside world, would have been as lifeless, desolate, and tomb-like as a grave.

As he leaned back against the bed, he placed his hand on his forehead, trying to suppress the headache. It would not go away; it never did. Not when thousands of screams and voices echoed in his mind, not when he considered himself lucky for managing even ten minutes of sleep instead of an hour, and not when the only dreams he had were those that haunted him with past sins. Not when he wished to recall the forgotten and reunite with it, struggling for that very purpose.

Not when he tried to silence his curse.

He stared blankly at the ceiling. His black eyes reflected no signs of life. If anyone saw him lying like this, with eyes like those of a dead fish, they would likely think he was already gone. Perhaps he was, and this body was merely a cursed vessel carrying what remained.

Finally, he sat up in bed and dragged his heavy corpse-like form to the mirror draped with a cloth in the corner of the room.

His long, pale fingers traced over the mirror’s surface, touching the cloth, but he dared not pull it down.

"What are you afraid of?" The woman’s voice echoed from the mirror, and he feared to look upon her face. Once more… once more… and once again...

Every day, the same torment...

"Hey love, why do not you pull down the cover? Tell me you do not miss my face... After you killed me and our child without a second thought..."

His hand gripped the cloth so tightly that his claws dug into his palm, causing black blood to drip.

"Remove the cover!" Her voice grew more intense, demanding. "Pull that cursed thing down! After all you have done, dare not ignore me as if nothing happened!"

He took a deep, very deep breath. His hand shook, not wanting to lift the cloth, but he knew he would. He had to. She was right, he had no right to deny her.

Finally, when he pulled down the cover and let it fall to the floor, he couldn't help but grimace, despite seeing the same thing he had seen for years.

In a room filled with cobwebs, buzzing flies, dirty walls, and a dark, eerie atmosphere, on a bed with torn and filthy sheets, sat a figure. A woman, skeletal and rotting from head to toe, her clothes torn, her hair falling out, and snakes crawling out of her eye holes. The small baby in her lap was no different from her.

This... was sickening...

It was he who had brought them to this state... It was he...

It was he...

"You have finally come to my conclusion..." she said, her voice raspy, like that of an old crone, and as she spoke, several flies escaped her mouth.

Though his expression remained blank, he struggled not to avert his gaze, and he couldn't help but tremble slightly.

He had brought them to this state. He… Only he...

"I... am sorry..." His throat felt tight, but somehow he managed to get those words out. Even though he knew they meant nothing... Every time he pulled back the cover, these words lost a little more meaning. Each time, they felt more rehearsed.

"You're sorry? Sorry..." She tilted her head slightly as she stared directly at him. Then, suddenly, she stood and slammed her hand against the other side of the mirror. The child in her arm let out a chilling wail. "Curse you... curse you! What is the use of apologizing?! You destroyed us! You ruined us! What does a cursed apology change now?!"

Nothing...

"You are a fucking cursed being! One who deserves neither love nor kindness!"

I know...

"Why?! Why did you... Why did you do this to us?"

I... cannot say...

His gaze remained on the ground, lacking the courage to lift his eyes.

"Look me in the face, you bastard! Say something!"

He closed his eyes and, before draping the cloth over the mirror, he whispered once more, "I'm sorry."

"Hey! Where the hell you think you're going?! Come back! Face me, you bastard!"

I’m sorry...

As he pulled away from the mirror with a heavy body, these were the only words he could mutter in his mind.

Finally, he reached for the long black robe hanging on the rack by the window, where the curtains were drawn, and slipped it on slowly, lazily.

Then, he hurried out of the room as fast as he could, whispering different encrypted words to the gray, black, and purple runes on the door before locking it behind him.

The guard at the door immediately bowed his head, but he passed by without giving a nod, disappearing down the corridor.

Fresh air was the only thing he needed at the moment.

As he walked through the palace's vast corridors, a few nobles who crossed their path retreated in fear, bowing their heads in respect.

Good. This was what he wanted. Fear. Ruling through fear.

Just like she had once done...

Finally, when he reached the large door leading to the courtyard, the guards promptly opened it, pushing from both sides without waiting for a word.

The courtyard was vast, filled with trees of pink, green, yellow, blue, gray, and black leaves, arbors, wide walkways, and a small river crossing under a bridge filled with turtles, frogs, and various species of fish brought from other lands. It was a beautiful place.

As he walked, he could hear the crunch of grass beneath his feet. The chirping of birds wasn’t drowned out by the voices in his head. He took a deep breath, inhaling the air filled with fresh oxygen and mana.

“Hey, are you listening, Your Highness?” At that moment, a woman’s voice snapped them out of his thoughts.

He looked in the direction of the voice but saw no one. Slowly, he started walking towards where the voice had come from.

“Your Highness, you can’t do this. You see, if you don’t eat, you’ll become unhealthy and weak.” He looked at Floida, the woman calling a little girl to the gazebo with a tray in her hand. Her face had a frown, but there were faint traces of worry visible. When he turned his eyes in another direction, he saw the girl lying face-down on the ground, staring at a stick with an open book next to her.

Princess Reagan Mrithūnjaya.

Her black eyes moved back and forth between the book and the stick, wearing the usual, blank expression she always had. She touched the stick and whispered a few words before slightly furrowing her brow and sniffing the branch.

Aidz, watching her from behind the tree, raised an eyebrow, observing with mild interest.

The girl finally picked up the book and calmly stood up, patting down her skirt a few times.

Then, fixing her gaze ahead, she suddenly started running at full speed. Neither Floida nor Aidz, who watched from their corner, understood what was happening until there was an explosion behind her. A tree broke and crashed to the ground.

“Princess!”

“Reagan...”

Among the voices coming from both sides, one tone dominated. The King’s murmuring voice didn’t stand a chance against Floida’s panicked cry. He decided to stay hidden behind the tree, observing the events.

The princess had fallen on her backside, her white dress dirty and torn, yet her hand rested thoughtfully under her chin—a sight not often encountered.

Oh, well, in this situation, you should ask Floida.

Because for her, this was a familiar scene. Every day, when the princess caused trouble or, as she called it, “studied,” she would find herself in trouble, wearing that same expression and saying the same thing...

“I’ve learned something from this situation today. I will learn from my mistakes.”

Floida sighed and crouched down in front of her, brushing off the dirt from her clothes. Of course, it was of no use—she was not only dirty but her clothes were torn as well.

“Your Highness, do you never rest? Do you know what would happen if you got hurt?” Floida asked in a soft but scolding tone.

“Hmm, probably the most logical action in such a case would be to take me to physician, but if we assume she’s not in her room or if you’re not confident in reaching there in time, applying a healing spell you know would be logical. Of course, if you’re not knowledgeable about this subject—”

“Princess!” Floida had to interrupt her, as, as always, she would miss the main point, continuing with her realistic, pragmatic view, acting beyond her age, and failing to understand her mistake. “In such a situation, the first thing you should think about and worry about is your own life. You might lose your life while trying to learn from your mistakes.”

The princess remained silent, her gaze fixed on the ground, then she raised her dull eyes to meet hers. “You may be right. But in this case...” She tilted her head slightly. “Floida, are you upset?”

Despite her frown and grumpy feeling, Floida couldn’t help but chuckle at the question. She knew the princess struggled to understand emotions, as she had been told many times and confirmed herself that she was... well, a bit lacking when it came to emotions. So, she constantly observed facial expressions, trying to figure out what they meant.

Aidz, who watched the entire scene from a distance, narrowed his eyes as he looked at the girl. The words Meldon had told him five years ago came to mind.

...

“Your Majesty, the princess is actually... may have undergone reincarnation. In this case, the body might be possessed by a different soul.”

“What do you mean? Are you sure?”

“No, not entirely. But using the Spirit Breakdown spell, which you may have heard of, I observed some... erosion in her spiritual paths. This increases the likelihood of another soul entering the body after the original soul left.”

Spirit Breakdown? The spell that she did wasn’t the apprentice-level Necromancers’ Meridian Redistribution spell? Hmm, actually some spells can have deceptively similar colored beams. Aidz couldn’t say anything in this case.

Meldon continued, “I can’t say for sure because I didn’t see her soul core before... the tragedy she went through earlier... Uhm, but it’s a possibility.”

...

In the present time, Aidz was certain of this. The child he had seen in the reflection of the mirror was his own. In this case, it was entirely possible that the current princess had indeed been reincarnated one.

Watching the princess being led to the gazebo by Floida for a meal, Aidz pondered deeply among the trees.

Who are you? An ordinary soul, or someone more important?

With these thoughts, he disappeared into the trees.

*