A stifling yawn threatened to split my jaw. It had been millennia since I felt this…what was the word? Bored? Yes, boredom was starting to sink its insidious claws into me.
I was the Demon Lord Varvatos. My name itself echoed through the ages, spoken in hushed tones of awe and terror. My powers? Let's just say I rearranged continents for fun and stopped apocalyptic meteors to pass the time. But now… I was simply tired of it all.
The grand battles, the scheming underlings, the tiresome worship – it had all lost its flavor. There was no challenge, no struggle. I yearned for… something different. That's when the idea struck: reincarnation, but with a twist. I'd suppress my powers, live as an utterly average nobody. This time, there would be no domination.
A flicker of mischievous amusement danced in my chest as my vision faded. This time would be different.
A piercing cry – my own? – jolted me awake. My senses were a fuzzy mess, and my body…pathetic. This was a human infant's form? It was weak, noisy, and apparently had a fondness for drooling. Ugh, the indignity.
"There you are, my little Ard," a gentle voice cooed. A woman with kind blue eyes beamed down at me. Welcome to the world!"
Ard, huh? It was as good a name as any for this charade. The first few years were a blur of frustrating helplessness. My past omnipotence felt like a mocking dream as I struggled to master the basics of this infuriatingly weak body. But beneath the tedium, a new sort of challenge flickered. Perhaps this 'ordinary life' would be more interesting than I'd expected.
Time crawled by. My parents, Ireena and Guy, were surprisingly…decent. Not that it mattered. They were pawns on this new playing field, no different from the countless humans I'd once swatted aside like flies. Yet, there was a warmth in their voices, a genuine affection that was absent from the fearful reverence of my demonic followers. A flicker of unfamiliar emotion bloomed in my chest. Was this sentimentality, perhaps?
This new world had its own peculiar charms. I devoured books with voracious hunger, rediscovering lost ancient magics and even dabbling in the rudimentary enchantment humans called 'science'. It was all so… quaint, like a child building sandcastles compared to the cosmic palaces I'd once shaped. But there was a spark of ingenuity, a determination against all odds, that I found strangely admirable in these fragile creatures.
My humdrum existence took a startling turn on my tenth birthday. As I blew out the candles on a far-too-sweet cake, a ripple of energy shivered through the air. A young girl abruptly materialized in our simple living room, her mismatched eyes – one gold, one silver – scanning the space with unnerving intensity. I tensed. Had my masquerade been discovered so soon?
"Is there… a Varvatos here?" she asked. Her voice held a strange mix of hesitation and suppressed power.
My parents blinked in confusion. "No one by that name, dear," Ireena replied gently.
The girl frowned, but as she turned to leave, her gaze snagged on me. Our eyes met, and time seemed to slow. Despite her youthful appearance, something ancient flickered in her mismatched gaze, an unspoken recognition.
My heart thundered. Was this some supernatural tracker sent to drag me back to my old life? With an effort, I buried my true nature, forcing a look of childish confusion.
After a tense moment, her strange eyes glanced away. "Must be a mistake," she muttered, dissolving again into thin air.
I released a breath I hadn't realized I was holding. Who was she, and how had she almost seen through my charade? A new thrill coursed through me. This game of 'ordinary' just got far more interesting.
The following years were marked with subtle shifts. My parents enrolled me in a modest magic school, expecting me to have, at best, a spark of talent. What they didn't realize was that they'd caged a dormant dragon.