A sharp, bitter wind brushed against Luciel's face. The air smelled… strange. It lacked the thick scent of brimstone, the burning of cursed flames, and the distant roars of beasts. Instead, it was clean, with a hint of something sweet—bread? No, something else.

Luciel groaned as he opened his eyes. Above him stretched an endless sky, painted in hues of orange and purple, as if the world itself had been split between dusk and dawn.

"Where… am I?"

He tried to move, but his body felt heavy, sluggish. The last thing he remembered was his father's voice, deep and unshaken.

"Survive, my son..."

And then—nothing. A black void swallowing everything.

Luciel sat up and looked around. He was in a narrow alleyway, the cold stone underneath him feeling… unnatural. No lava cracks, no floating islands of torment—just boring bricks and a pile of trash bags.

"Trash…?"

He turned his head and saw a homeless man lying against the wall, snoring.

"A fallen warrior?" Luciel thought.

The man scratched his belly in his sleep and let out a loud snore.

"Never mind."

Luciel sighed and stood up, wobbling slightly. His usual demonic strength was gone. No flames erupted when he clenched his fists, no dark energy pulsed beneath his skin. It was as if the Demon Realm had been stripped from him.

He looked down at himself—his black tunic was still intact, but it looked out of place in this world. He ran a hand through his hair, feeling its soft, messy strands. His horns… were gone.

Luciel's mind raced.

"I'm alive… but I've been stripped of my powers."

A strange sensation gripped him—a mix of panic and curiosity. Had his father done this? Had he been exiled? Or was he hiding him from something worse?

A flicker of movement caught his eye. Further down the alley, he saw a girl staring at him. She looked human, her school uniform slightly wrinkled, her long brown hair swaying in the breeze.

Their eyes met.

Luciel decided to test something. He raised his hand dramatically and said in a deep, commanding voice:

"Kneel before me, mortal."

The girl blinked. Then she tilted her head.

"…Are you a cosplayer?"

Luciel frowned. "A what?"

The girl sighed and rubbed her temples. "Great, another weirdo."

Luciel was offended. He was Luciel Nacht, son of the Demon King! Not some common street fool!

But before he could say anything, a loud chime echoed through the alley. The girl looked at a small, glowing rectangle in her hand.

She muttered, "Shit, I'm late for cram school."

Then, without another word, she walked away.

Luciel stood frozen.

This was not the welcome he had expected.