Darkness. The sky wasn't just dark, it was thick, like spilled ink on a canvas of night. Storm clouds danced wildly, accompanied by the roar of thunder that shook the earth, making it tremble. It wasn't just a strong wind blowing, but a fierce storm that lashed out at everything with uncontrolled fury. Large buildings, once standing tall as symbols of human strength, now lay helpless, crushed by the undeniable power of nature. Not just one, but dozens, even hundreds of buildings were reduced to rubble, scattered amidst the storm. The whole world, which once seemed beautiful and peaceful, now turned into a terrifying battlefield, battered by a merciless storm. The rain, it wasn't just rain, but the tears of the sky, drenching the earth with its intensity. Rainwater mixed with dust and soil, forming mud that flooded the streets, making it difficult for anyone trying to survive amidst nature's fury.
A truly horrifying sight stretched before the eyes. Not just a storm, but an endless war that had destroyed human civilization. Corpses lay scattered everywhere, victims of brutal and cruel battles. Soldiers, both from the winning and losing sides, lay lifeless, their bodies severely wounded, their clothes tattered and bloodstained. Innocent civilians also fell victim, trapped in the midst of the battlefield, unable to save themselves. Children, teenagers, and adults, all became victims of the cruelty of war. The whole world had turned into a giant graveyard, where death reigned supreme and life felt so fragile. A world where the strong ruled, and the weak could only submit to their fate.
No matter who they were, whether innocent children, spirited teenagers, or experienced adults, if they didn't obey the stronger, only death awaited them. Fear gripped their hearts, making them submit and obey the cruel rulers. Their lives were nothing more than a game in the hands of power-hungry rulers.
The great war that had raged for thousands of years continued to haunt the weak and helpless. Kings, powerful and wealthy, could protect themselves without needing anyone's help. They lived in luxury, while the common people suffered in the midst of an endless war. They were only concerned with themselves, using the common people as tools to achieve their ambitions, as pawns that could be discarded once they were no longer useful.
Happiness? Peace? Humanity? Wealth? Fortune? What are those? Just empty words for the common people, a fiction told by the nobles who lived in luxury and pleasure. Those born as commoners had to live under the rule of greedy and cruel nobles, kings, and emperors. These rulers were bloodthirsty, power-hungry, and would kill anyone who dared to defy them without a second thought. They lived in luxury, while the common people lived in poverty and suffering.
A world where magic dominated power and strength. Those who were not gifted in magic would only be laughed at and insulted by those who were. Abuse, insults, and ostracism became an inseparable part of their lives. They lived in fear and despair, with no hope of changing their fate.
The nobles lived in luxurious and magnificent mansions, surrounded by beautiful gardens and loyal servants. Meanwhile, the common people lived in dilapidated and squalid huts, in areas under the rule of the nobles. Children starved, parents were sick, and adults worked tirelessly just to survive. Did the nobles care? Of course not. They didn't care about the suffering of the common people, they just saw them as trash to be discarded.
Under the heavy rain, a man with black hair and red eyes stood in the middle of the battlefield. His body was soaked, his clothes tattered and bloodstained. Around him, corpses lay scattered, forming a horrifying sight. His hands, which were usually strong and sturdy, now trembled uncontrollably. His gaze was empty, his face showed no expression whatsoever. His mind was filled with despair, deep fatigue, and infinite regret. There was nothing he could do, only death would come for him, ending all the suffering he had endured all this time.
"So sad," he muttered softly, his voice almost inaudible amidst the roar of the storm.
A woman with purple hair and purple eyes sat on her throne made of glittering black stone, looking at the man with a cold and contemptuous gaze. A thin smile etched on her face, revealing arrogance and satisfaction at the suffering of others. Her luxurious and shimmering gown further highlighted the contrast between her and the badly injured man before her.
"Why do I have to end up like this?" the man asked himself, his voice sounding desperate. He raised both his arms to the sky, he looked up at the sky with despair. Blood flowed profusely from his wounds, soaking the ground that had become a grave for many. The blood mixed with rainwater, forming a horrifying red stream.
No one else could help him. The battlefield was silent, empty, and terrifying. There were only two people there, the badly injured man and the cruel and arrogant woman.
"If only you had obeyed my wishes from the beginning, you wouldn't have suffered like this," the woman said in a haughty and arrogant voice. Her voice was cold and piercing, like ice piercing bone. Her purple eyes were filled with pleasure and satisfaction at the suffering of others.
"You're trash," the man cursed, his voice weak and almost inaudible. His mind began to blank out, his vision began to blur, darkness slowly began to consume him.
"What you said... I will make your death feel gentler," said the woman, her voice full of threat. She raised her staff high, a staff made of dragon bones, emitting incredibly powerful multicolored energy. The energy radiated immense power, capable of making the weather even more unstable.
"I don't need your help," the man said, his voice almost inaudible.
"What are you saying? Of course you need it. So, goodbye, the great demon lord. Today is your last day," said the woman, a thin smile etched on her face again. She fired a small amount of multicolored energy towards the man.
"Goodbye," the woman said, her voice cold and emotionless.
Slowly but surely, the man's body began to disappear from this world after being hit by the energy. His body slowly began to turn into white particles and then disappeared from the world. He felt his body crumble, his soul torn apart, and his consciousness began to fade.
Seeing his fate now, the man's eyes began to fill with anger. His mind, which was previously filled with despair, is now filled with revenge. The will to avenge burned in his body. Revenge? How? He was almost dead.
Suddenly, an idea for revenge flashed through his mind. He gathered a large amount of his remaining magical energy and seemed to want to use a spell.
"<𝗦𝗮𝗻𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼 𝗙𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗶𝘀>"
The remnants of his energy flashed through space and time. Reincarnation, that was the only way he could get revenge. Then, faintly, he heard whispers—sobs, words, and mocking laughter. Memories like sharp shards of glass, piercing his soul. War, defeat, betrayal, he, Hastora, the great demon lord, had fallen. His existence had completely disappeared from the world.
***
***
"Ah... where is this?" he asked curiously. He looked around, a strange and simple room. Sunlight came in through a small window, illuminating the room that looked clean and comfortable.
"Didn't I die?" He held his head, trying to remember the last thing he experienced. War, the purple-haired woman, and the multicolored energy that destroyed his body.
Hastora held his hair, he couldn't believe what was happening. He felt his body still intact, still warm and throbbing. He felt the real sensation of life, different from the emptiness he felt when his soul was about to disappear.
"This is real, I'm alive," he said in a trembling voice. He still found it hard to believe this reality. How could he still be alive after experiencing such a tragic death?
Hastora immediately looked for a mirror to make sure. He searched every nook, cranny, and other parts. While he was busy looking for a mirror, he finally found it, the mirror was on a small table in the corner of the room. He quickly ran towards the mirror.
"I'm really alive!" he said as he looked at himself in the mirror. His still young and handsome face reflected in the mirror, the same face as when he was still alive as a demon lord. "But, why am I still alive? How?"
Hastora saw a simple bed in the room, he walked towards the bed and sat down on it. He kept thinking about what was happening, how he could come back to life. After thinking for a long time, he finally began to realize something.
"Ah, this is no mistake, Reincarnation," he said. "I have been reincarnated." His face showed a flat and cold expression, but it was filled with anger and a plan for revenge. Reincarnation was a second chance for him, a chance to avenge his revenge on the purple-haired woman. He would return, stronger and more powerful than before. He would avenge his revenge, and this time, he would never lose.