The fire moved away.
Not because it had gone out, but because Kaelthar’s small body was carried away from it.
The orange flame that had been dancing at the edge of his vision slowly shifted aside, shrinking, then disappearing behind his mother’s shoulder. As if the world itself had decided he was not yet worthy of approaching it.
Kaelthar stiffened.
His hand stretched out reflexively, tiny fingers opening and trembling in empty air. He let out a sound—not a full cry, but a short, choked noise filled with demand.
His eyes remained fixed on the fireplace, on the tongues of flame that were now drifting farther away.
No. Wait.
He moved his hand again, more deliberately this time.
He pointed.
The motion was clumsy, imprecise, but his intent was absolute.
Fire.
There.
That was what he wanted.
Seraphina turned her head, following the direction of her daughter’s gaze. She smiled softly, assuming it was nothing more than ordinary curiosity.
Fire often fascinated babies—it moved, it glowed, it seemed alive.
But when Kaelthar made another sound, louder this time, more desperate, the smile shifted into concern.
“Oh?” she whispered gently. “Are you hungry?”
No.
Kaelthar opened his mouth and cried more clearly.
He did not know how to say fire.
He did not know how to explain that this was not hunger, not cold, not fear.
Crying was the only language he had.
And that language failed.
Seraphina sat down and adjusted her position, lifting Kaelthar closer to her chest. Before he could fully understand what was happening, the warmth arrived—milk flowing into his mouth, sweet, soft, familiar.
Kaelthar froze for a moment.
Then his body reacted faster than his thoughts.
His tongue moved.
His jaw closed.
His small body instinctively accepted what it was given.
The warmth spread slowly, soothing the tightness in his chest and easing the tension in his shoulders.
The fire disappeared from his awareness.
For now.
He drank quietly, though inside his still-active mind, a small conversation began to form—simple, but important.
Alright, he thought slowly.
Milk now.
The hand that had been reaching toward the flames now gripped his mother’s clothing.
His body relaxed, his eyes half-closed.
The comfort he had never asked for—but that always arrived—once again won the brief battle against his will.
But this time, something was different.
He did not forget.
Behind the sweetness of the milk, behind the warmth of the embrace, the memory of the fire remained.
Not burning.
Not urgent.
But present.
Like a small point of light in the corner of his thoughts.
Fire later.
His crying stopped.
Seraphina sighed with relief, gently stroking her daughter’s soft hair.
To her, the problem had been solved. The baby was hungry, now she was full. The world had returned to balance.
For Kaelthar, it was the opposite.
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When he finished feeding and rested in his mother’s warm arms again, his thoughts felt clearer than before.
He realized something that made him fall silent—not in frustration, but with a new kind of awareness.
Crying did not always give him what he wanted.
Crying brought attention.
Crying brought comfort.
Crying brought food.
But crying did not bring understanding.
He could cry as loudly as he wished, and the adults would always interpret his desires through their own framework.
Hungry.
Cold.
Scared.
Sleepy.
All of those made sense to them.
But fire did not.
Not because they were foolish.
Not because they ignored him.
Because they did not know.
And suddenly, Kaelthar understood a new limitation of his power as a human infant.
He could not ask for things they could not understand.
The realization did not make him angry.
He was too comfortable to remain angry for long.
But he recorded it, storing it beside the memory of the fire—alongside the memory of pain that had once been power.
If I cannot make them understand…
…then I must reach the fire myself.
His mind—still wrapped inside the body of a baby—began turning slowly.
Not with grand strategies.
Not with complex plans.
But with a simple logic utterly foreign to his former demonic nature.
If I want something…
and no one can give it to me…
then I must move.
He looked at the floor beneath him.
A wide, hard, cold surface.
He looked at the distance between where he was usually placed and the fireplace that was always kept out of his reach.
The distance felt impossible for a body this small.
But for the first time since his rebirth, Kaelthar did not see that limitation as an insult.
He saw it as a problem to solve.
His hand curled slowly into a fist.
The fire was still there.
And someday—not today, perhaps not tomorrow—
he would reach it.
Not with crying.
But with his own body.
Meanwhile, deep within the demon palace, Aurelia—now living as Kaelthar—walked steadily toward the great hall where the Demon King, the father of her new body, was about to speak.
Anna followed several steps behind her.
Though Anna was now little more than a familiar who moved without emotion, her presence still brought Aurelia a small sense of calm.
That calm quickly turned into confusion.
Ahead of her, a group of young demons were walking toward the same destination.
Their faces were serious.
Some appeared arrogant.
Their auras radiated power that was impossible to ignore.
All of them wore luxurious clothing, a clear sign of their high status.
What is this? Aurelia wondered.
Why are they all heading to the same hall?
Curiosity pushed her to walk faster.
When she passed through the massive doors of the throne hall, she froze.
The hall was enormous—far larger than any council chamber Aurelia had seen during her life as the Holy Queen.
The walls were covered with carvings depicting epic battles.
The pillars stretched upward like they were challenging the sky itself.
But what shocked Aurelia most was the number of demons gathered there.
Thousands.
Thousands of powerful demons stood in orderly rows.
Most of them radiated dark auras that dominated the entire hall, making Aurelia feel small among them.
Yet what drew her attention most was something else.
Many of them appeared to be roughly the same age as her current body—young, energetic, and already possessing strength far beyond what Kaelthar’s young body currently had.
A terrible realization slowly formed in Aurelia’s mind.
All of these young demons—including herself—addressed the Demon King with the same word.
“Father.”
They’re all… my siblings?
She looked farther down the rows.
There were hundreds of older demons there as well.
Their auras were even more terrifying.
Some of them looked almost like copies of the Demon King himself, with pitch-black skin and glowing red lines like flowing magma.
Aurelia felt her thoughts begin to blur.
In her past life as the Holy Queen, she had always believed the Demon King Kaelthar had only two brothers and two sisters.
She had never imagined that Kaelthar actually had thousands of siblings.
She thought about it carefully.
If they are truly all Kaelthar’s siblings… what happened to them?
Her small body trembled slightly.
There was no way thousands of them had survived.
From her past battles with Kaelthar, she knew that by the time she faced him in the future, only five of the Demon King’s children remained—including Kaelthar himself.
Kaelthar… you must have eliminated them all, she realized in horror.
The thought made her stomach churn.
She looked at the young demons around her.
Each one radiated strength greater than her current body.
How did Kaelthar defeat all of them?
While Aurelia was lost in thought, a voice thundered through the hall.
The Demon King’s voice.
It filled the space with such intensity that the air itself seemed to grow heavier.
“My children!” the Demon King called from atop his massive black throne adorned with curved horns.
His body was enormous.
Far larger than anyone else in the hall.
His skin was pitch black, streaked with glowing red lines like flowing lava.
His eyes burned with crimson authority.
“As you know,” he continued, “this throne is not given to anyone.”
“This throne belongs only to the strongest.”
“And today, I wish to see which of you is worthy to inherit my kingdom.”
Aurelia fell silent.
Those words sounded less like a declaration—and more like a threat.
She began to understand.
The Demon King had not gathered his children here as a family.
He had gathered them as competitors.
Or perhaps… as prey.
Aurelia glanced at Anna beside her.
Her familiar servant stood calmly, unaffected by the oppressive atmosphere.
But Aurelia felt waves of fear and tension building inside her.
This is the world Kaelthar grew up in.
A world where family means nothing.
Everyone is a rival.
Yet another realization slowly formed in her heart.
She began to understand why Kaelthar had become the way he was—cold, ruthless, believing only in strength.
This world allowed no weakness.
Even among family.
Aurelia clenched her large hand tightly.
I am not Kaelthar.
I will not fall into this cycle of hatred.
But she knew she had to pretend.
In the demon world, mercy was weakness.
She had to play the role of Kaelthar long enough to survive.
If I want to find a way out, she thought, I must understand this world.
And that means earning the trust of my father… and my siblings.
With renewed determination, she lifted her head and looked directly toward the Demon King.
Kaelthar, she murmured silently,
I don’t know how you survived this…
but I will learn.
And I will find a way to save myself… and Anna.
Meanwhile, the Demon King narrowed his eyes as he observed the gathered children.
His gaze lingered briefly on one particular figure.
Kaelthar.
The boy’s aura was weaker than most of the others.
Yet there was something in his eyes.
Something that reminded the Demon King of himself in his youth.
Interesting, he thought.
Perhaps this boy has greater potential than he appears.
A cold smile spread across his face.
Then he continued speaking.
“Prepare yourselves,” the Demon King declared.
“Soon, all of you will face a trial.”
“A trial that will determine who among you deserves to survive.”
Aurelia felt her blood run cold.
She did not know what kind of trial awaited them.
But she knew one thing for certain.
Failure was not an option.
