The night the Demon Kingdom celebrated, the skies tore open.
The Abyss roared. Volcanoes howled. The demon continent trembled.
It was the birth of twin princes.
A miracle.
A calamity.
Inside the colossal obsidian castle, the Demon King, Vael Nocturne — tyrant of ten
thousand eras — stared at the first born child in his arms.
Crimson eyes.
A body overflowing with dark monarchal energy.
"Asterion," he named him.
A King.
Then…the second child cried.
Blue eyes.
Soft human-like skin.
No infernal aura.
Weak.
Different.
The Demon Court whispered.
"A defect."
"A cursed prince."
"A disgrace."
The Demon Queen, Seraphis — whose beauty even gods feared — cradled the second child
lovingly.
"He is my son," she said. "He will live."
But the world did not allow weakness.
Only one could inherit the Demon Throne.
And tradition demanded…
The weaker one must disappear.
Asterion held his brother's hand the night be "…Lucian," he whispered.
"If you are weak… then I will protect you."
The younger twin smiled gently.
"I know."
He did not cry.
The next day…
Lucian died.
Or so the world believed.
But fate is cruel.
And destiny is stubborn.
The forsaken prince did not vanish. He was reborn.
And that was the beginning…
of something far greater than a king.
It was the beginning…
of a legend.