Kaelthar, now living as Aurelia, crawled slowly across the warm wooden floor. Morning light poured through the large window, casting long shadows of tables and chairs across the ground. This human world felt vast to him—too vast for a small body that had only just learned how to move.
Every day he discovered something new.
The texture of carpets.
The coldness of stone floors.
The sound of adults’ footsteps.
And now—movement.
He had become better at crawling. His small hands pressed against the floor, his knees pushing his body forward with a rhythm that was beginning to feel natural.
Push.
Slide.
Push again.
Ahead of him stood a low wooden table. Its legs were thick and dark brown, the corner edges strangely appealing to his curiosity.
He wanted to touch it.
His hands moved faster.
His knees pushed harder.
But this baby’s body had not yet mastered distance.
His head lifted too high—
and—
Thunk.
A dull sound echoed as his forehead struck the edge of the table.
The world seemed to stop.
For one full second, Kaelthar simply froze.
Then something exploded inside his head.
A sharp sensation spread from his forehead throughout his body.
Not heat like fire.
Not warmth like milk.
This was something different.
Sharp.
Piercing.
Shattering.
His small body trembled.
His chest tightened.
And before his mind could understand what had happened—
he cried.
The cry burst out loudly, louder than usual. Tears immediately streamed from his eyes, wetting his small cheeks.
“Aaah—waaah—!”
The sound echoed through the room.
Quick footsteps approached from the other side.
“Aurelia?”
Seraphina appeared with a panicked expression. In an instant she was kneeling on the floor, lifting the small body into her arms.
“Sweetheart, what happened?”
Kaelthar was still crying.
He could not even answer.
The sensation in his forehead throbbed, spreading like waves that refused to stop. Each heartbeat made it stronger.
Seraphina gently stroked his head.
“Oh no… did you bump yourself?”
Her fingers carefully checked his forehead.
“Does it hurt here?”
Kaelthar’s crying grew louder.
Seraphina hugged him closer, gently rocking him.
“Shhh… it’s alright… Mommy’s here.”
She kissed her daughter’s hair softly.
“Does it hurt, sweetheart? Where does it hurt? Let Mommy heal it.”
Kaelthar heard that word.
Hurt.
His mind, still trying to understand this world, suddenly remembered something.
Some time ago, his mother had pointed at the fireplace and said:
Fire hurts.
At the time he did not understand.
Now—
he felt it.
His crying slowly turned into small sobs, but tears continued to flow.
This… is pain?
He tried to understand the sensation.
It was not like emotion.
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Not like hunger.
Not like sadness.
It was like something pressing against his body from the inside.
Every second felt too long.
He tried to remember his life as a demon.
He had once been:
struck by gigantic creatures,
slashed by holy swords,
blasted by human magic.
His former body had often been damaged.
Yet—
he had never felt this.
There had been no pressure like this.
No desperate urge to stop everything.
No crying.
As a demon, injury was merely information.
Body damaged.
Energy increased.
Continue fighting.
Finished.
But this human body reacted differently.
The sensation made him want to stop.
To hide.
To be… protected.
His crying burst out again.
“Waaah…!”
Seraphina held him tightly.
“Shhh… shhh… it’s alright… Mommy’s here.”
Her hand gently rubbed his forehead.
A soft glow appeared in her palm.
Human healing magic.
Warm.
Very different from fire.
The warmth slowly seeped into his forehead.
The sharp sensation began to fade.
The pressure in his head gradually disappeared.
Kaelthar still sniffled softly, but his crying weakened.
Seraphina smiled gently.
“There… it’s healed.”
She tapped her daughter’s small nose.
“You were very brave today, weren’t you?”
Kaelthar leaned against her chest.
His small hands gripped the fabric of her clothes.
His mind was still busy.
Why… was it so unbearable?
He remembered his former injuries.
Crashes.
Torn flesh.
Magic attacks.
All of them were far worse than this tiny bump.
Yet none of them had felt like this.
Why was the human body so… sensitive?
Why did this sensation make him want to cry?
Why did it make him want to be held?
He could not find the answer.
His eyes slowly grew heavy.
The warmth of Seraphina’s embrace calmed his body.
His sobs turned into soft, uneven breaths.
Between the drowsiness creeping in, one last thought appeared in his mind.
Humans… live with sensations like this every day?
If so—
living as a human might be far more difficult than he had ever imagined.
And for the first time since his rebirth—
Kaelthar began to understand why humans were so afraid of pain.
Aurelia, who now lived as Kaelthar, sat back in her seat after the bloody battle with Yareth. Her crimson eyes stared blankly at the arena, where her siblings once again tore into each other in their endless struggle to prove who was strongest.
She could not stop thinking about what had just happened.
Her hands still felt cold, even though Yareth’s blood had already dried.
The scene replayed in her mind—her claws ripping through her brother’s body, the mad cheers of her siblings, and the satisfied smile of the Demon King watching from above.
But something else began creeping into her thoughts.
Something deeper and more complicated than guilt or anger toward herself.
Aurelia tried to reflect.
As the Holy Queen in her previous life, she had been taught that demons were evil beings—creatures born only to destroy the world and defile holiness.
Every decision, every action of demons was believed to be driven by hatred, vengeance, and ambition.
She had believed they were a threat that must be eradicated for the safety of humanity.
But now, trapped in Kaelthar’s body and living within this world, she was beginning to see a different reality.
Her siblings—creatures she once saw as heartless monsters—were not entirely evil.
They laughed when they fought.
They cried when they lost.
They even showed strange forms of affection through violence.
“I…” she thought, staring at her own claws.
“I was born and raised as a holy human, yet even I cannot resist these demonic instincts. How could they? How could they fight their nature if even I cannot?”
She watched the arena.
Two more siblings were fighting.
One of them, the younger one, lay on the ground with deep wounds across his body.
Yet he refused to surrender.
With trembling teeth, he struggled to stand even as blood poured from his injuries.
His older brother stared at him with a vicious grin—not with hatred, but with pure enthusiasm, as if urging him to keep fighting.
Aurelia’s eyes narrowed.
She began to understand something she had never considered before.
This battle—this brutality—was not merely meaningless violence.
It was communication.
A way for them to show courage, spirit, and even affection.
Violence was their language.
Just as love and sympathy were the language of humans.
Suddenly, Aurelia felt her heart sink.
She began to realize that demons—the beings she had once hated—were not completely evil.
They were simply creatures born into a world that forced them to become this way.
A world that had never given them any choice but to live in hatred and violence.
“How can I blame them?” she thought bitterly.
“They had no choice. They are simply beings created to live like this… forced to enjoy suffering and violence, never knowing what love or peace truly means.”
Yet as that thought appeared, something else began to grow within her heart.
Something darker than guilt or sympathy.
Anger.
She was not angry at her siblings.
Not even at the Demon King.
She was angry at something greater.
At the force that had created this world.
At the God she had once worshipped as the Holy Queen.
“How could a God who claims to be merciful create creatures so tragic?” she thought, her teeth grinding.
“How can beings who were born without choice be punished simply for being what they are? Is this justice?”
The feeling grew stronger.
Hatred began filling her heart—not toward the demon world, but toward the world itself.
Toward the laws and fate that shaped life.
She hated the reality that humans and demons were forced to live in opposing worlds, never given the chance to understand one another.
“We are all just pieces in a greater game,” she whispered softly.
“Demons, humans… all of us. We were created to fight, to destroy one another… but for what? For whom?”
That hatred became so pure, so powerful, that Aurelia unconsciously released her aura.
A wave of dark energy exploded from her body and flooded the arena.
Black sand flew into the air.
The atmosphere grew heavy.
The entire arena fell silent.
Her siblings’ crimson eyes widened.
Their bodies shuddered.
The hatred radiating from Aurelia felt different from ordinary hatred.
It was pure.
Not directed at a single person—
but at the entire world.
The Demon King, seated upon his black stone throne, raised an eyebrow.
A cruel smile appeared on his face.
“Interesting,” he murmured softly, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction.
“Such pure hatred… it seems my son has finally discovered his power.”
Aurelia ignored the cheers and stunned gazes of her siblings.
All she felt was the blazing wave of anger burning in her chest.
Yet amid that hatred, something strange happened.
Her siblings did not look at her with jealousy.
Instead, they trembled—but their faces were filled with excitement.
Her pure hatred pumped through their blood, making them feel alive.
For demons, pure hatred was not a threat.
It was a gift.
“Kaelthar…” one of them whispered, his voice trembling with excitement.
“What… is this? Your hatred… it’s…”
Aurelia slowly realized what was happening.
The hatred she released did not frighten them.
It invigorated them.
But at the same time, the hatred made her feel strange.
She felt a foreign satisfaction burning in her chest.
And within that fire, she heard a faint whisper.
“You understand now, don’t you?”
Aurelia turned toward the voice.
But no one was there.
Only the whisper echoing within her mind.
“Hatred is not weakness. Hatred is power. Hatred is the raw material to create something new. This world is broken—but with hatred, you can rebuild it.”
The Demon King finally stood, his voice booming across the arena.
“My children!”
“Today, Kaelthar has proven he is truly my blood. His hatred is so pure, so powerful, that even your blood boils from it.”
His sharp gaze fell upon Aurelia.
“Kaelthar, continue to grow. Your hatred will become your weapon. One day you will see that this world belongs to you—to destroy… or to recreate.”
But deep within her heart, Aurelia knew the Demon King was wrong.
This hatred was not meant to destroy.
It was resistance.
Resistance against cruel fate.
Against an unjust world.
“If I must use hatred to change this world,” Aurelia thought with cold determination, “then I will do so. But I will do it in my own way.”
With eyes shining with resolve, Aurelia looked at the Demon King and her siblings.
This world—once her enemy—had now become her purpose.
Not to destroy it.
But to repair it.
With her pure hatred, she would create a world where no one would be forced to live according to their nature—
whether human or demon.
And thus began Aurelia’s new journey.
A journey to challenge God, the world, and fate itself.
