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Chapter 292  The Rise of a King!

Chapter 292

Opening his eyes, he was greeted by a dark space; nothing but blackness stretched all around.

The air smelled stale, dry, and empty—as though no living thing had drawn breath here for centuries.

This place reminded him of the partial spirit summoning space conducted by Sigfor.

But what made this space special compared to the spirit space was the mirror-like ground beneath his feet, where a clear reflection of himself was visible.

The reflection’s eyes seemed… wrong. Darker. Sharper.

He looked around but saw nothing; the connection to the real world was completely severed.

Somewhere in the distance, faint footsteps echoed—slow, deliberate… approaching.

Each step sent a ripple through the mirrored surface beneath him, distorting his reflection into something twisted and unfamiliar.

“Haah…”

He sighed ruefully, not knowing what to do. In a situation like this, he should have panicked first and foremost, like any normal human being. But he had grown so accustomed to darkness that it didn’t bother him as much as he had expected.

Perhaps he was a little worried about escaping. How should he leave this place?

Or… was he supposed to stay?

Tic Tic Tic

He walked on the mirror floor in a calm manner, unfazed by his surroundings. It was as if he were simply taking an evening stroll.

Time passed, and he slowly lost track of it. He kept walking with his hands behind his back, his mind in a state of deep concentration, thinking about different things.

At some point, the darkness shifted.

And then—

Visions started appearing in his mind once again.

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In the memory, he saw a young demon boy from a small village, constantly threatened by dangerous demonic beasts and malicious entities. People from his village lost their lives whenever they went hunting or traveled.

The villagers lived in constant fear, never venturing out unless absolutely necessary. This led to the village becoming desolate—food was scarce, children starved daily, there was no clean water, and the clothes they wore were insufficient to protect them from the chilling cold of the night.

Thin, malnourished bodies huddled together for warmth. Hollow eyes stared at the horizon, waiting for death instead of salvation.

The growls and howls of beasts echoed from time to time, making every soul in the village beg for their lives.

The boy saw all this suffering and questioned himself—what was the reason behind it?

Why did his kin suffer? Why did they lose their lives?

Why didn’t they fight back against the demonic beasts?

Why didn’t they kill?

And then, he realized.

They were weak.

They had no strength.

They were cowards.

But…

Wasn’t he one of them?

Was he not the same?

Had he not lived in the village, fearing those demonic beasts just like the others?

So then, what was the difference?

Why wasn’t he venturing out?

That was when he understood—he was shackled.

Not physically, but mentally. He had been confined to the same fear-driven mindset as the rest of the villagers.

Never leaving the village out of fear.

But he was not the same. He could not live like this.

He was not prey!

That day, his shackles shattered.

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In the days that followed, the demon boy fearlessly left the village, despite the scorn of the villagers and the countless rumors of the beasts’ brutality.

Despite all of it, he didn’t listen. He went ahead.

What followed was a bloody carnage.

When he returned, he was wounded and torn, barely able to walk straight.

Claw marks dug into his flesh. Blood soaked his tattered clothes.

But the villagers who saw him did not criticize.

They couldn’t.

Because he was dragging behind him the corpse of one of those terrifying demonic beasts.

The next day, he left again.

This time, he returned with two corpses and threw them at the village entrance.

The bodies were barely recognizable—mangled, shredded, bones peeking through torn flesh.

Every day, he left at dawn and returned by evening, dragging the carcasses of the beasts he had slain—each riddled with brutal injuries.

The sheer cruelty of his hunts was evident in the gruesome wounds on the beasts’ bodies.

By now, a small hill of corpses had formed at the village entrance.

The stench of death clung to the air, a warning to any who dared challenge him.

The boy was growing stronger with each passing day. The more he fought, the more powerful he became.

Each day, the hunt continued. Each day, he returned—stronger, deadlier.

A hill of corpses rose at the village entrance.

Fear turned to awe.

Awe turned to inspiration.

Others followed.

Soon, the village was no longer prey.

Seeing this, the villagers who once feared the mighty demonic beasts slowly began to follow in the boy’s footsteps.

At first, they merely watched.

He would kill the beasts mercilessly, and they would stand in awe—stunned at how a boy could so easily defeat such terrifying creatures.

Slowly but surely, their fear faded.

They started joining him.

They fought alongside him.

The once-cringing villagers became warriors. Their blades gleamed with the blood of their former predators.

Mountains of corpses began appearing in the forests surrounding the village.

The boy was crowned the village leader for both his strength and courage.

The village that had once lived in fear now actively hunted the very beasts that had once plagued them.

Within weeks, the entire forest was cleared—no demonic beast in sight.

The forest, once a domain of terror, had been turned into a graveyard.

__________

Then, the vision flickered.

What followed next was the rise of a King!

The boy was no longer a child.

He had grown into a formidable young man, his body a tapestry of scars earned from countless battles.

He stood atop a hill, gazing over the lands he had claimed.

The village he once protected had swelled into a thriving city.

His people no longer cowered.

They stood tall under his rule.

Yet…

His hunger for power burned brighter than ever.

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