"Seriously?"

  The tiny, spectral Phoenix fluttered her wings, looking down at me with an expression of pure, unadulterated judgment. "That is what you are going to say first? 'Hi'? You just nuked a flock of dragons, collapsed from exhaustion, woke up to find two divine beings floating in front of your face, and your opening line is... 'Hi'?"

  The golden serpent next to her sighed—a sound like wind rushing through a canyon. "I do not like to admit it, but I agree with her. It was underwhelming."

  "It just slipped out!" I snapped, sitting up and rubbing my temples. My head was still pounding from the Mana drain. "And who are you even? Scolding me without a reason. Do you know what kind of day I’ve had?"

  "Without a reason, you say!"

  Phiona flared up—literally. Her purple flames brightened, turning her into a tiny, angry sun. "What more reason do I need than finding myself bound to a brat roaming the Death Forest at the mere level of Qi Refinement Stage 2? Do you have any idea how embarrassing this is for me?"

  She puffed out her chest feathers. "By the way, I am Phiona, the Phoenix Empress. And, by my incredibly bad luck, I am apparently your familiar."

  "And I," the serpent rumbled, his voice deep and vibrating with ancient power, "am Mizuki, the Invincible Dragon. And... I am your other familiar. Also by my bad luck."

  I stared at them.

  The Phoenix Empress. The Invincible Dragon.

  The two entities whose body parts my father had stolen (or "acquired") to save my life.

  The realization hit me harder than the Earth Drake’s tail. I wasn’t just a thief; I had enslaved two gods into a AAA battery of a core.

  "And I'm..." I started, my voice losing its usual snark. I looked down at my hands—stained with dirt and dried blood. "I'm Ragna Crimson."

  I paused, the weight of the name pressing down on me.

  "I am your master," I continued, my tone dropping to a whisper. "And... the failure of the Crimson family."

  Phiona scoffed, but I pushed on. "I’m sorry. My father gave me your stuff—your feather and your scale. I didn't have a core. I was going to die. So I used the science of my old world to fuse your essences and make a core for myself. I didn't know it would wake you up. I'm really sorry."

  For a moment, the forest was silent. Phiona and Mizuki exchanged a look. The flames on Phiona’s wings dimmed slightly.

  "Wait," Phiona said, her voice sharp but curious. "You said Crimson? Like that family?"

  Mizuki drifted closer, his golden eyes narrowing. " The family that started living with humans centuries ago? The ones who interbred until they became a stable lineage of Half-Demons?"

  "Yes," I nodded. "That's them. That's us."

  "That Crimson family," Phiona pressed, flying a circle around my head, inspecting me like a lab specimen, "who are famous for having crimson-red hair, emerald-green eyes, and are born with the Crimson Mark on their skin?"

  "Yes!" I said, getting annoyed at the biology lesson. "I know what a Crimson looks like!"

  Phiona stopped directly in front of my nose. Mizuki coiled up beside her, staring at me intently.

  "Then..." Phiona tilted her head, her arrogance replaced by genuine confusion.

  "Why do you look so different?"

  I froze.

  I reached up and touched a lock of my hair. stark, snowy white.

  I looked at my reflection in the blade of my sword. Glowing, electric blue eyes. No mark.

  "I..." I hesitated. "My grandfather called me a defect. A mutation."

  "A defect?" Mizuki rumbled, drifting closer until his snout was inches from my face. He sniffed. "No. You smell like a Crimson. You have the demonic blood. But this appearance..."

  Phiona narrowed her eyes. "White hair on a Demon Noble usually means one of two things, boy. Either you are cursed... or you are something far more dangerous than a 'failure'."

  "I don't know!" I threw my hands up. "If I knew why I looked like a defective flashlight, I wouldn't be asking you two!"

  Phiona and Mizuki exchanged a glance—a silent communication between ancient beings that probably meant, 'This kid is hopeless.'

  "Then we will tell you why," Phiona declared, floating down to eye-level. "But first, we need to verify your lineage. Show us your body. specifically, where you bear the Crimson Mark."

  "Alright," I sighed. "Buy a guy dinner first, maybe? No? Okay."

  I grabbed the hem of my tattered shirt and pulled it over my head, tossing it onto the mossy ground.

  "Here you go. Inspect away."

  Now, at this point in the story, I would love to show you a detailed, artistic illustration of the markings on my body. It would really help you visualize the sheer epicness of the moment. The Writer—Sakshar—promised he would draw it when he had time.

  (Narrator Voice: The time never came. The Writer was too lazy. So, use your imagination, folks.)

  Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.

  Phiona drifted toward my chest first. She squinted at the skin right over my sternum.

  "I see..." she murmured, her flames flickering with recognition. "This isn't a Crimson Mark. This is a divine seal."

  She looked up at me, her eyes wide. "That symbol... it is the Crest of Reincarnation. By any chance, do you know a woman called Talestia?"

  "Oh, that bitch—"

  Cough, cough.

  "I mean," I corrected quickly, clearing my throat, "the Goddess of Reincarnation? Yes. Unfortunately. By my sheer bad luck, she’s the one who sent me here."

  "I knew it," Phiona hissed. "Only that meddlesome woman would brand a mortal like cattle."

  Meanwhile, Mizuki had drifted behind me. I couldn't see him, but I could feel the air temperature drop. The heavy, comforting presence of the Dragon suddenly turned cold.

  "Phiona..." Mizuki’s voice trembled. It wasn't a rumble anymore; it was a vibration of pure terror. "Look at his back."

  "What is it?" Phiona floated around.

  I tried to look over my shoulder. "Guys? What is it? Do I have a rash?"

  Mizuki didn't answer. He was staring at my shoulder blade. There, etched into my skin, was a mark unlike anything seen in the current era. It wasn't the standard family crest. It was jagged, primal, and pulsed with a dark, terrifying energy.

  "It’s not a normal Crimson Mark," Mizuki whispered, backing away slowly. "I remember this... from the Era of Ash... just a few decades after the Demon King fell..."

  The great Invincible Dragon started to shake. Actually shake.

  "It is the True Crimson Mark!" he shouted, his voice cracking with fear.

  "The True Crimson?!" Phiona gasped, her fire turning a pale, frightened violet. She backed away too, putting distance between herself and me. "The mark of the Progenitor? The First True Demon?"

  "Wait, hold on!" I yelled, looking back and forth between the two terrified gods. "True Demon? Progenitor? Why are you looking at me like I’m going to explode? Is it bad? Is it contagious?"

  Mizuki stared at me, his golden eyes wide with a mixture of awe and horror.

  "It is not bad, boy," Mizuki breathed. "It is absolute. You do not just carry the blood of the Crimsons. You are a throwback to the origin. You carry the blood of the entity that existed above demons."

  The forest went silent. Even the wind seemed afraid to blow.

  And there I stood. Shirtless. Ten years old. With a Goddess's brand on my chest and a Monster's legacy on my back.

  "Great," I muttered into the silence. "So I'm a Reincarnated, Half-Demon, True-Demon, Core-fusing anomaly. Anything else? Am I also secretly a prince of the moon? No? Good."

  I picked up my shirt.

  "So... does this mean you'

  ll help me get to the Academy?"

  "What happened?" I asked, looking between the shivering dragon and the pale phoenix. "You look like you just saw a ghost. Uh, yeah, I know I'm a 'demon' technically, but still... you know what I'm trying to say."

  Phiona composed herself, though her flames were still flickering unsteadily. "Do you have any idea what a True Crimson is? Or what a True Demon represents?"

  "No," I shook my head. "To me, 'True Demon' just sounds like an edgy username."

  "They are not just strong," Mizuki rumbled, his voice heavy with a memory he clearly wished he could forget. "They are stronger than hell. And scarier than hell."

  The great dragon closed his golden eyes.

  "I will tell you something that happened a long time ago. Back then, Phiona and I were at the peak of our power. We were fighting—as we always did—destroying mountain ranges and drying up seas just as collateral damage."

  "We were Saints," Phiona interjected, a hint of lost pride in her voice. "Saint Level, Stage 2. We were beings who could challenge the heavens."

  "Unluckily," Mizuki continued, "a True Crimson was cultivating nearby. We didn't notice him. We were too busy trying to kill each other. But our battle disturbed his meditation."

  Mizuki shuddered.

  "He didn't scream. He didn't rage. He simply... stood up."

  "He was only at Divine Core, Stage 1," Phiona whispered. "A full major rank below us. By all laws of cultivation, he should have been an ant beneath our boots."

  "But he defeated us," Mizuki said, opening his eyes to look directly at me. "Single-handedly. It wasn't even a battle. It was a discipline. He beat us so hard we were unconscious for a week. I still wake up terrified remembering his form."

  "Blue Origin," Mizuki breathed. "That was what he called it. He stood there, wrapped in an aura of freezing blue star-fire... and he had an appearance exactly like yours. White hair. Glowing blue eyes."

  I swallowed hard. My "defect" wasn't a defect. It was the genetic blueprint of a monster who slapped two gods into a coma.

  Phiona drifted closer, her gaze intense. "What is the name of your father? And answer me truthfully: are you really a reincarnated soul, or are you a hero, or both?"

  "Yes," I nodded, feeling like hiding anything now would be stupid. "I am reincarnated. I was summoned to be a hero. And my father's name is Akira Crimson."

  Phiona hummed, processing the information. The fear in her eyes was slowly being replaced by a sparking, dangerous curiosity.

  "Guess what, kid?" Phiona smirked, regaining her haughty demeanor. "You have a lot to learn. But you have a ceiling higher than the sky."

  She swirled around me, inspecting the Phoenix Wing and Dragon Scale I had used to make my core.

  "First," she commanded, "you need to stop swinging that sword like a barbarian. You need to unlock your core's potential. Cultivate using our essences—the Wing and the Scale—to unlock your Stage 1 Core Abilities."

  She pointed a wing toward the dense tree line, where the morning sun was just starting to pierce through.

  "Then," she declared, pointing a fiery feather into the distance. "Go East."

  "East?" I repeated, looking in the direction where the sun was rising. "What’s in the East?"

  "Civilization," Phiona replied, her spectral form starting to fade as her energy waned. "You will find the Capital of Razia there."

  She drifted closer, her voice losing its haughtiness and becoming deadly serious.

  "Listen to me, Ragna. You need to get to the Academy. You need to grow strong. Because the threat facing this world isn't just a resurrection of a generic Demon King. It is him."

  "Him?"

  "Leonis Death," Mizuki rumbled, the name shaking the leaves around us. "The Strongest Demon King in history. But he was not born a monster. He was once a Hero. A savior of humanity... until he was betrayed."

  "Betrayal breeds the worst kind of monsters," Phiona whispered. "He is coming back. And when he does, he won't want to rule the world. He will want to break it."

  I swallowed hard. A Fallen Hero turned Demon King? That’s the worst matchup. They know all the hero tricks. They know the systems.

  "We will always be with you," Phiona said, her form becoming translucent. "We reside in your core now. And Ragna... tell your father, Akira, that he did a great job. He did not steal us. We gave ourselves to him for the cause. He is a good man."

  "Wait, he didn't rob you?" I blinked. "My dad is cooler than I thought."

  "Alright," Mizuki nodded. "Time to sleep."

  "Bye," I waved.

  Poof.

  They vanished, retreating into the depths of my spiritual world.

  The Grind to Razia

  And so, the voices in my head went quiet, and I was left alone in the forest again.

  "Go East," I muttered, adjusting my spatial bag. "Easy for them to say. They have wings."

  I started my trek. The journey wasn't a casual stroll; it was a migration through hell. But this time, I wasn't the prey. I was the predator.

  I traveled for weeks, cutting a path through the dense undergrowth. And during the nights? I didn't sleep. I grinded.

  One night, halfway to the edge of the forest, I sat in the lotus position under a blackened tree. The C-Rank Essence I had looted from the Drake was hovering between my hands. It was dense, grey, and screaming with power.

  I closed my eyes and pulled.

  WHOOSH.

  Usually, cultivation is like drinking a milkshake through a thin straw. But now? It was like a fire hose.

  My body floated into the air. The aura around me flared—Purple, Green, and now a stable, glowing White.

  Ding! (Okay, there was no sound, but I felt it).

  I opened my eyes. Qi Refinement Stage 3.

  Now, I know what you’re thinking. 'Ragna, it took you two years to get to Stage 2. How did you hit Stage 3 in a few weeks? Is this hacks?'