And now we're back to the present.
So, here's the deal.
I'm now a nine-year-old brat named Diablo Eviar.
Let's take a moment to appreciate how ridiculous that is.
I mean, me?
A nine-year-old?
It's almost laughable.
Blonde hair, cerulean eyes, a face that could make any child modeling agency line up to sign me.
'And a body so weak I'm surprised it hasn't crumpled under its own weight yet.'
Honestly, it's embarrassing. Who designed this meat sack?
The stamina is atrocious. Just walking for a few hours feels like I've run a marathon.
'Is this what it feels like to be mortal again? No, this is worse. I feel like I'm wearing a defective mortal costume.'
Who is Diablo Eviar, you ask?
Apparently, he was the youngest and now the only heir to the illustrious Eviar family... a name that once made kings tremble and kingdoms bow.
The Eviar family wasn't just powerful... they were legendary.
