"You're living in a shitty world, full of illusions and ridiculous hopes. Wake up, you idiot! In the real world, no one survives on dreams and fantasies alone. It's a constant, shitty battle, and you're just hiding behind a curtain of illusions like a spoiled child. Look at yourself, deluded, thinking everything will work out while the world swallows you whole. It's pathetic, and the worst part is you don't even realize how much you're humiliating yourself with this denial. If you don't stop living in this fairy tale, you'll sink deeper and deeper, you little piece of shit. And don't come crying when life—or I—come to beat you down, because that's exactly what you deserve for being so stupid and complacent."
The void was a constant, overwhelming presence, enveloping me in a deep, impenetrable darkness. I felt a chilling cold that pierced to the bone, yet also an almost ethereal lightness, as if I were floating in endless space. There was no sense of time, only a persistent feeling of reflection. In the midst of this absolute silence, I asked myself:
"Am I dead? Is this cold the only thing I feel, a distant echo of the life I once knew? Or am I just dreaming of what was once real?
Everything feels so distant and abstract, as if I'm suspended between two worlds."
As these thoughts intertwined with the void, a sensation of warmth began to emerge, an unexpected contrast to the coldness surrounding me. A faint light started to pierce the darkness, its luminous particles creating a soft glow that intensified with each moment. The light drew closer, gradually, as if pulling me out of this abyss of solitude.
"What's happening? This light… it's like a promise of something beyond the void. Am I returning somewhere? Or perhaps I'm about to step into a new chapter, unaware of what awaits me?"
The warmth and light grew more intense, filling the space with a blinding radiance. Then, the silence was shattered by an anguished scream, an expression of pain that reverberated through the space, cutting through the light and warmth with desperate force.
"AHHHHHH!"
The sound was piercing, a feminine voice laden with suffering that echoed amid the growing brilliance. The light around me seemed to part, revealing a new, unfamiliar world where I was about to emerge, with no idea who I was or what lay ahead. The scream seemed to mark the beginning of a new journey, a reality unfolding before me with overwhelming intensity.
"Calm down, dear, we're almost there," a man said. The light grew even brighter, and then I felt as if I were falling from an infinite abyss until I sensed my back hitting something. I feel alive again, as if I'm back in the world. But it's not just a feeling. My eyes reveal I'm in a house typical of medieval times. A blond man with green eyes and no beard stares at me, smiling. I don't understand anything, and for some reason, I can't control my body. Yet, I notice my hands aren't those of a 19-year-old girl but of a baby. The face of the woman who gave birth to me is revealed moments later—a beautiful woman with purple eyes and hair as red as a supernova. Everything seems wonderful, doesn't it? But not everything is rosy. Hours after my "birth," I'm taken to a sort of temple. Are they going to worship some god or entity? No. Inside this temple, there's a demon, a humanoid demon. The only difference between him and a regular human is his horns and bluish skin.
"Well, well, Miss Jullen and Mr. Grenrick," the demon says from his throne.
"Please, sir, I beg you to bless my daughter so she may be one of your subordinates and not one of your offerings," Grenrick says, bowing before the demon. My mother does the same, but her face remains cold. My father seems nervous, pleading for mercy. Apparently, this demon is like a god. But is he a god for this country or kingdom, a god for the world, or just for the people of this village? Well, I have no clue about anything, but that doesn't surprise me. I don't even remember my previous life, and I've only been here for two hours.
"I shall grant her a bit of my mana," the demon says, touching me and giving me such a pitiful amount of mana it makes no difference. But I felt something strange when his mana transferred to me. It has nothing to do with empowerment or anything like that. Essentially, his mana already felt like it was part of me and my body.
After four years living in this world, I began to grasp a bit about how things worked—both in the world at large and in this village. Essentially, the demon is the central religious figure here, but beyond our borders, he's utterly unknown. In exchange for living offerings, he grants knowledge. I say that with heavy quotation marks because he either states the obvious or spouts nonsense. Homosexuality is forbidden here, as the demon despises lustful acts between people of the same sex. He even has his own guard, made up of the sons of those who serve him, protecting him from the kingdom's enemies.
As for the world itself, everyone possesses mana or magic—even certain specific creatures have it. Beyond mana, each person has an element or affinity, referred to interchangeably, with unique magical applications. As far as I know, there are more races besides demons and humans, but I don't know what they are. In this kingdom, men rule and wield more influence than women, essentially a patriarchy. The people of my village obey the demon because the kingdom doesn't provide enough funds for crops or schools. Moreover, if they didn't worship the demon, they'd all face death.
My life in this village? How can I put it… It's hell. From the age of two, we're forced to help with the harvest since the adults are busy delivering offerings to the demon.
When they fail to find animals, humans are offered instead. They're beheaded in front of the public, and their bodies are given to the demon. Usually, they send those who can't serve the demon directly—people with weak magic or frail physiques. At four years old, two years younger than the other children who discover their affinity, I still haven't been told why. But I feel something is wrong with my existence and everything behind it.
Discovering one's affinity is simple enough. A person receives small amounts of mana from their parents and channels it, mixed with their own, into a stone that looks like a marble. Those without parents risk fainting, as they must use all their own mana.
"Come on, daughter. When you're ready, just say so," my father says, forcing a smile. Ever since I was born, I've noticed he's acted strangely. It's not like he cares much about me, but when it comes to magic, he suddenly gets excited.
I receive mana from both of them. The sensation from my father's mana feels similar to when I received the demon's mana, but I feel nothing from my mother's. At that moment, everything became clear to me. But without proof, I stayed silent and focused on discovering my affinity. However, the stone remained unchanged. I kept pouring mana into it, but nothing happened.
My father looked at me with disdain, as did everyone in the village. For a moment, I thought it was because of my age, but then the demon emerged from his temple and declared that, regardless of age, everyone could have their affinity revealed.
"Prepare today's offering. Merry Christmas to all," the demon said, retreating to his temple.
Before I could react, one of the demon's guards landed a powerful kick to my stomach, leaving me defenseless. I passed out.
When I finally woke up, I was tied to a pillar, completely immobile. The villagers gathered around me, especially two holding axes positioned horizontally at my neck. They planned to behead me for being the only human in history without an affinity. I was ready to accept my fate, but then I noticed one of the axe-wielders was my father, smiling gleefully.
Amid the crowd, a voice cried out…
"Please, sirs! I beg you to spare my daughter and use me as the offering instead. I implore you to let her live, even as a slave!" Jullen pleaded, humbling herself before the demon.
"Very well, I'll grant your request since you're one of our greatest offerors," the demon replied. "Kill your own wife, Grenrick."
"Yes, sir…" Before beheading Jullen, Grenrick leaned down and whispered in her ear.
"She's not even your daughter, you fool… How does it feel to die for a filthy hybrid?" Grenrick said, swiftly restraining and decapitating her. A look of shock flashed across Jullen's face, but it didn't last long as she was killed.
Speechless, I didn't know whether to cry or fight back. The woman who raised and cared for me since birth was just murdered before my eyes by the man who also raised me. It seems this demon holds far more influence than I thought.
After that, they isolated me from the village and locked me in a house. Every month, they came to check if I'd starved to death. Even if I don't die, they'll kill me in two years anyway—that's what the demon said.
Faced with the possibility of death and still reeling from my father killing my "mother," I was utterly lost. After a week in that place, starving, a tree began to grow inside the house. My mana started flowing uncontrollably as the tree grew. I touched it to see if I was hallucinating, and suddenly, the tree crumbled to dust. Yet the fruits it bore remained intact. Afraid I'd destroy the fruits like I did the tree, I touched them cautiously, but they didn't disintegrate. I ate them all and felt revitalized. Realizing I had some kind of power, I made my decision: I'd train for these two years, perfect my power to the fullest, and then wipe out this despicable village and torture the demon until his death.
I began trying to manifest more of this unknown power for twenty-nine days each month, always hiding traces of its use to avoid hastening my execution. After three months of training, I identified the nature of my power: manipulating mana to do whatever I wanted, from energy beams to creating objects or making plants grow. After those three months, I managed to escape the house by destroying the metal door, though I always put it back by the twenty-fifth day in case they sent someone early to check how I was surviving.
Once I understood my power, I alternated between physical training and mastering my magic. My only day off was when a villager sent to check on me was spotted by birds, who became great friends of mine. Not just them, but other animals too. I created a harmonious kingdom among them, where all could be friends without fighting over food or territory. Some lions and goats taught me to fight, so I adopted their ferocious combat style. I fought them too, but always healed their injuries and never used magic against them.
I developed a way to understand and communicate with animals using magic, though it's so complex I can't fully explain it. I learned animals are far friendlier than humans. Many offered to help me invade the village, but I asked them not to get involved—humans wield powerful magic, and the demon is even strong.
Two Years Later
After two years of brutal training, my skills outshine those of anyone my age, but I'm not stopping there. With a month of rest ahead, I'm tempering my body for the fated day. Over the past year, I perfected my assassination techniques and probed the kingdom's opinion of this forsaken village. They're blind to the demon hiding here and view the villagers as scum. I can't argue, even if it gnaws at me.
I discovered the snow deepens during the execution month—ideal for concealing a body and framing someone if guards investigate. I won't touch the infants; that's my line in the sand. If no royal guards or knights appear, I'll spin a story of an attack on the village. Why not blame the demon? Too risky. It'd spark a thorough investigation, exposing the demon's worshippers. It's cleaner to invent a "hero of justice" who tried to save us.
I'm fairly sure I've mastered my skills. My attacks are diverse: mana slashes, mana bolts, and beyond. My creation magic is nearly flawless, letting me craft elements with raw power like lightning and fire. Wind's destructive too, but one wrong move, and I'm the one bleeding.
During my rest month, I devoured books stolen by my feathered allies. The knowledge let me forge weapons, compressing them into stones. These I stashed in a pouch disguised as a leaf, tucked into my undergarments. No one would suspect I'm armed to the hilt.
The Fated Day
The day dawned. I prepared everything the night before, rigging a catapult from mana-infused branches for the animals to launch when the demon appeared at the execution. As I entered the village, venomous glares met me, but I shrugged them off and followed the man sent to fetch me. He led me to a dank basement, where I was bound. When the light flared, it revealed her—my mother. She hauled a box of torture tools, her eyes glinting with cruelty.
"Well, my precious daughter. Been too long," she taunted, her voice sharp as a whip.
"Hello, you vile crone," I shot back, venom for venom.
"You wretched cur!" she shrieked, hurling a dagger. I tilted my head, letting it sail past.
"You're as foolish as he was," I said, ice in my tone, watching Jullen's face twist with fury.
"Why did you kill him? Why are you so naive to believe every lie that demon spews?" I roared, my rage matching hers.
"You're just a heretical brat who'll never understand. Your father was worthless," Jullen hissed, advancing with a scalpel and pliers.
"What a pathetic excuse…" I muttered. With a flicker of will, I unraveled the ropes into frail threads and stepped toward her, slow and predatory.
"What?! You had no affinity!" she screamed, panic choking her.
"Guess what? I still don't." I pulled the leaf-pouch from my sleeve, which morphed into a bag. From it, I drew a stone marked with a "K," transforming into a katana. Jullen crumpled, sobbing and begging. I only laughed.
I set the katana ablaze and carved through her neck, slow and deliberate, making her suffer for every sin. Her body ignited, reduced to ash. The first step of my revenge was complete. I scattered her remains, rebound myself, and waited for the execution.
"Where's Jullen, you filth?" a man snarled, jabbing a sword at me.
"She went for herbs. Probably got lost," I replied smoothly, deflecting suspicion.
They dragged me to the central square, where the demon itself would behead me. The villagers gathered, thirsting for my death. Then, the animals struck, launching the mana-infused branches. They streaked through the air, but I played the helpless captive, biding my time.
"Last words, you scum?" the demon mocked, its razor-sharp blade gleaming.
"Yes, Lord Demon. Mana Shield."
I encased every infant in a stone cocoon. The branches morphed into lightning bolts, raining havoc on the village. Screams pierced the air as many perished instantly, though some clung to life. The slaughter began.
I broke free, seizing my nunchaku and unleashing mana beams, cutting through survivors with deadly precision. Houses blazed, and soon, no adult human remained—only the children were spared. This village is the kingdom's weakest; crushing it was my duty, and I delivered.
Only the demon and I stood amid the chaos—burning crops, fallen trees, a perfect stage for our final clash. As the battle ignited, my body began to change. My nails sharpened into claws, my eyes turned pitch black, my canines grew into fangs, and small horns sprouted from my skull. The transformation surged through me, raw and electric, heightening my senses.
"Aerial Devastation!" the demon bellowed, summoning a storm of tornadoes, their razor winds poised to flay me.
"Die, you worthless spawn! I regret ever creating you!" it roared.
Claws glinting, I gripped my katana, channeling territorial mana into a single point for a devastating strike. A horizontal slash cleaved the tornadoes, scattering them. But the demon was cunning—already behind me. Its fist slammed into my spine, hurling me into a burning house. I spun mid-air, conjuring a water-mana wheel to cushion the impact and douse the flames.
My territorial mana was now a lethal weapon. A massive tree erupted, its roots piercing the demon. Enraged, it unleashed a wind blast that could level everything. My backup plan kicked in—birds swooped, dropping branches that turned into liquid nitrogen and water, freezing the blast into an ice dome.
I shattered the dome with a flaming sword and charged, my black eyes blazing with fury. The demon launched a vertical wind blade, slicing my flesh as I pressed forward, claws bared. It faltered, pleading for mercy. I surged ahead, landing a mana-charged punch to its gut. It kicked my stomach, but I recovered, baring my fangs in a snarl and delivering a brutal kick to its face, followed by twin claw-strikes to its cheeks. Using its leg, I flipped backward, slamming my heel into its nape.
My katana hummed as I poured mana into it, its blade growing massive. The demon, broken on the ground, summoned a shrinking tornado. I unleashed a colossal mana slash, cleaving the tornado and the demon in two.
A searing pain erupted in my palm, forcing me to stagger. I glanced down, and there it was—a strange, glowing symbol, jagged and pulsing, etched into my skin. It burned like fire, but I clenched my fist, ignoring it. I'd won. Nothing else mattered.
"It's… over…" I whispered, tears of relief streaming down my face. Dragging myself from the demon's corpse, my claws retracted, my eyes cleared, and my horns faded. Exhausted, I collapsed into the snow, darkness swallowing me.