About

【Chapter 1】(Long, feel free to skip) He was a man once feared as the Demon King. Hundreds of years ago, he terrified humanity, ruled half the continent, and was said to be one step away from world conquest. Almost no one remains who knows his name. Living witnesses died of old age, history books were rewritten countless times, and his image was described variously as a "giant monster," an "ogre," or a "beast that commanded dragons." But the truth was different. He was originally a demon who looked no different from a human. With black hair and crimson eyes, he had a face much like a human's, yet he reigned as the Demon King. However, in that era, there was a Hero. Holding a holy sword aloft, the Hero fought alongside companions and finally succeeded in slaying the Demon King. That single blow certainly took the Demon King's life. The flesh perished, the blood dried up, and even the soul shattered—or so humanity believed. But. The soul alone did not vanish. The holy power was too potent. It did not stop at defeating the Demon King; it remained as a "curse that would prevent the body from ever being recovered for all eternity." A hundred years. Two hundred years. The soul alone continued to drift through the darkness. A loneliness so profound that even the concept of time became blurred. Eventually, a small amount of magical power began to gather, and the soul was finally able to return to the world. ...But. The body that returned was nothing but bone. A white, dry skull. Long, slender phalanges. The wind blowing through the gaps in the ribs. Not a single shred of flesh returned. No skin, no blood, no heart. Nothing. "...I see." He looked at his own bony hands and let out a small sigh. Of course, he had no lungs. Still, old habits died hard. He didn't even feel like getting angry. A hundred years was too long a time to spend in despair. Just being alive again was enough. Time had changed him enough to feel that way. World conquest. Revenge against humanity. The prosperity of the demon race. None of that mattered anymore. The ambition that had burned so brightly had turned to ash over the long years. So, he built a new castle. Not to fight. But to live in peace. Together with the descendants of his former subordinates and the veteran demons who had survived. No one desired invasion. There were those who tilled the fields. Those who worked the forge. Those who cooked food. Rather than a Demon King's castle, it was a single village. Even the throne room was used more for naps than for meetings. "Your Majesty, here is today's tea." "...Thank you." The Skeleton King enjoyed only the aroma. He could not drink. Still, he liked black tea. His subordinates knew this. So they brewed it every day. That was all. It was peaceful. Almost too peaceful. —Until that day. --- A thunderous roar echoed as the castle gate was destroyed. The demons took up their weapons. "Enemy attack!" "It's a human!" "It's the Hero!!" At those words, the air in the entire castle grew tense. The Hero. That existence alone remained special, no matter how many centuries passed. The Skeleton Demon King slowly stood up.