Chapter 1: Death and Rebirth

Pain.

That was the last thing he felt.

It was not a slow, agonizing death, nor was it peaceful. It was abrupt, merciless—like the world itself had decided he was no longer needed. One moment, he was crossing the street, and the next, he was lying in a pool of his own blood, the twisted wreckage of a truck beside him. The crowd screamed, but their voices faded. His vision darkened, and then… nothing.

No tunnel of light. No divine judgment. Just an empty void.

Then, he woke up.

A baby's cry pierced the air. He was weightless, wrapped in warmth, yet his mind was alert. I… I was dead.

Before he could process his thoughts, a deep voice rumbled through the darkness.

"So this is my grandson?"

The moment the voice spoke, the air trembled. It was filled with something far greater than power—it was authority, a force that bent reality itself.

The newborn's blurry vision adjusted, and he saw him. A giant of a man, towering over everything, clad in a black robe embroidered with crimson sigils. His hair was silver, long and wild, framing a face with piercing golden eyes that gleamed like molten fire. The weight of his presence alone made the walls crack.

"Tch. This is the son of my pathetic child?"

The room was grand yet oppressive, its walls adorned with skulls and demonic carvings. Around him, figures of terrifying stature stood silently—horned demons, shadowy entities, beings with too many eyes and too many limbs. They watched him, their expressions unreadable.

The woman holding him, his mother, tensed. "Father, please, he is still a newborn—"

"Silence."

With just a word, the room fell into absolute stillness. The woman flinched but did not dare speak again.

The giant—his grandfather—narrowed his golden eyes as he gazed at the newborn. At him.

"He reeks of weakness."

The words were final.

For the first time, fear gripped the newborn's mind. He wasn't just in another world. He was in the presence of something far beyond human comprehension. And he was nothing in comparison.

"Pathetic. If he does not awaken any talent, he will be of no use to me."

With that, the strongest of the Seven Demon Kings, ruler of the Nether's core, turned and left.

No warmth. No acceptance.

Only disappointment.

And so, his new life began—with scorn and rejection.