The Birth of a Calamity
The smoldering ruins of Jahil's once-proud kingdom stretched far and wide—nothing remained but charred remnants of what was once a thriving civilization. The air reeked of death, thick with the lingering stench of burnt flesh and the acrid smoke that coiled through the endless, ashen wasteland.
Rouge stood alone, atop the last remnants of Jahil's melted throne, his crimson coat billowing in the infernal winds. His golden eyes gleamed with satisfaction, reflecting the ocean of carnage he had painted with his own hands.
Then, he paused.
His fingers twitched as he looked at the millions of corpses strewn across the wasteland—a kingdom's worth of bodies, reduced to lifeless husks. His infernal instincts whispered in his ear, an ancient and primal hunger surfacing within him.
"Hmm… how wasteful."
A twisted smirk crawled across his lips.
Slowly, he raised his hand.
The ground shuddered violently, and an eerie crimson mist began to rise from the corpses—souls, fragmented essence, the very remnants of life. The mist whirled violently, gathering toward him, coiling like a living entity as it swirled into a singular mass.
Rouge's smirk deepened, his glowing eyes filled with dark amusement as he began to reshape the very essence of the dead. Flesh and bone merged, twisting and reforming under his command. A new body was born from the ruin, forged from the very kingdom he had erased.
As the transformation completed, Rouge sighed in satisfaction, rolling his shoulders, flexing his fingers. This body—it was perfect. Stronger. More complete.
Then, a memory flickered through his mind.
The final screams of the kingdom's people, their wretched cries of terror before they were obliterated.
"Gahh… Gaaahhh!!"
Their screams were meaningless, yet something about them resonated within him.
A chuckle rumbled in his chest.
"Guy."
"From now on… I will be known as Guy."
As soon as he declared it, power surged within him.
Something inside him shifted—his soul trembled.
And then, it engraved itself into his very existence.
A dark, cosmic force rippled through the very fabric of existence, responding to his rebirth. The skies above churned with crimson lightning, the earth trembled beneath his feet as reality itself acknowledged his new form.
The name had power. It was his true self.
And it felt glorious.
For the first time, he felt something new.
A strange finality, as if the name itself had always been a part of him, merely waiting to be spoken aloud. He closed his eyes, savoring the sensation as it became one with him, binding itself to the very core of his being.
Rouge no longer existed.
When he opened his eyes again, they burned with a newfound essence.
-------
Back in the Eternal City of Sleep, the atmosphere remained serene, yet within its grand halls, a storm of emotions brewed.
Diablo and Testarossa, standing beside Arion, felt a surge of immense power ripple through existence—an energy they recognized instantly. Their normally composed expressions faltered, their eyes flickering with both intrigue and disbelief.
Diablo's golden irises gleamed with excitement, while Testarossa's crimson gaze narrowed in thought.
"This presence…" Diablo murmured, his voice laced with amusement. "It cannot be…"
Testarossa nodded, "Rouge. The last we remember, he was still in the Underworld. So tell me, Diablo—who could possibly be stupid enough to summon him?"
For the first time in a long while, even Diablo seemed momentarily at a loss for words. He had fought alongside Rouge before, back in the Underworld. Among Primordials, Rouge was not just another demon—he was one of the oldest and most feared, a being of pure destruction who fought not out of duty, but for the sheer thrill of battle. His pride was as vast as his power, and if he had truly been summoned to the mortal realm…
Arion, who was seated, observed the exchange silently. He had already noticed it—the sudden disappearance of countless souls. The sheer scale of the massacre was unlike anything he had sensed in centuries.
Just as he was about to speak, a shadow flickered before him.
A demon spy knelt instantly, his head bowed low.
"My lord," the spy said, his voice steady but urgent. "I bring news."
Arion raised his hand, signaling for him to continue.
"The Kingdom of the High Humans... they summoned the Primordial Rouge. And… he has eliminated all of them. Not a single soul remains. The kingdom itself is gone—erased, as if it never even existed."
A heavy silence fell over the chamber.
Testarossa and Diablo exchanged knowing glances. Of course, that was how this would end.
Arion closed his eyes briefly, letting the information settle. Jahil and his kingdom had sealed their own fate long ago. Their ambitions, atrocities, and arrogance had painted a target on their backs. Whether by Rouge's hands or another, their destruction had always been inevitable.
And yet…
"I see," Arion finally said, his voice calm, yet carrying an undeniable weight. "Jahil and his kingdom received what they deserved. But still… I will see this Primordial Rouge for myself."
Diablo immediately stepped forward, his smirk returning.
"My lord, why bother yourself with such a trivial matter?" he said smoothly. "Surely, we can handle this."
Testarossa nodded in agreement, crossing her arms. "Yes, my lord. If you wish, I will personally ensure that this does not become a problem."
But Arion merely chuckled.
"No." His golden eyes gleamed with amusement. "This will be a small exercise for me."
Before either Diablo or Testarossa could protest further, the space around Arion warped—and in the blink of an eye, he was gone.
—
Somewhere, far beyond the Eternal City…
A new calamity awaited.
The air twisted. Reality itself seemed to hold its breath.
Rouge—no, Guy—stood amidst the ruins of a kingdom that no longer existed. The ground beneath him was scorched and lifeless, the sky above an eternal void, as if the heavens themselves recoiled from what had transpired.
And then, it happened.
A voice—it was the VOTW—echoed within his mind.
[Voice of the World] Checking...
The Required Conditions have been met. The Harvest Festival for the individual 'Guy' to evolve into a True Demon Lord has begun>. Guy's eyes widened slightly before a sinister smirk crept onto his face. "Interesting…" he muttered, running a hand through his scarlet hair, the demonic energy within him swirling violently. "So I wasn't just playing around, huh?" As the Voice of the World continued its divine proclamation, Guy felt his entire existence shift. [Voice of the World] Transformation of the Primordial Demon Body into a True Demon Lord Body… Expanding magicule count… Acquired Unique Skill: 『Pride』… All other abilities will be reconstructed and enhanced... A wave of power surged through him, a force so overwhelming that the very air around him collapsed in submission. The ruined landscape trembled under the sheer weight of his presence, the once-dead ground now cracking apart from the raw energy being unleashed. And yet, Guy could not stop grinning. He ran a lazily amused hand through his scarlet locks, his golden-red eyes glowing with the radiance of a being who had transcended the natural order. His aura was no longer just demonic—it was primordial, chaotic, absolute. "Hah… This… This is what true power feels like…" he muttered, stretching out his arms, feeling his new form pulse with raw dominance. His magicules expanded exponentially, his body adjusting to its new state, every cell within him reforging itself into something greater. He felt indestructible, unstoppable—like he had ascended beyond all challengers. For the first time in his existence, he truly believed he was untouchable.