(Allen - POV)
I still remember the day we lost our freedom.
It was because of her.
The founder of Zani.
The one they came to call… Silent Death.
It happened long ago — nearly two thousand years, though time feels meaningless after what came next.
Back then, I was no one. Just a lowly servant boy, barely old enough to polish boots, let alone understand war or gods or demons. But I remember the fear. I remember her.
Her child had been murdered. No one knows how or why. But that was the spark. That was all it took to burn the world.
They say she went silent the moment the child died. She didn't scream. She didn't cry. She simply vanished.
When she returned, she brought hell with her.
She raised an army from the shadows — Dark Elves twisted by hate, brutish Ogres twice the size of any warrior, Goblins sharp and cunning, and worse still... demons. She tore open the forbidden Demon Gate where I live, a portal sealed by the gods themselves, and stormed the underworld.
There, she defeated the reigning Demon Lord — not with trickery or numbers, but raw, terrifying power.
That was the moment everything changed.
Every demons bowed to her. She became the true ruler of the demon world.
I watched her once, from behind the columns of the high court. I wasn't supposed to be there. I was cleaning blood off the floor. But I saw her — floating in silence, eyes like dying stars, power radiating off her in waves that made the air tremble. I heard her power was sealed by the gods but her magic pulsed through the realm like thunder.
She was… unstoppable.
And then, she turned her eyes toward Eden.
She burned the outside Eden kingdoms first — small nations, unprepared. She crushed them like glass underfoot. Then she moved on to the Dragon Lands. Even the sky trembled when she arrived. The dragons clan tried to resist… but they were not powerful enough.
Panic swept across the region.
In desperation to stop her, the world united.
The Three Empires of Eden, the Six Great Dragon Clans, the Elven Kingdoms, the Giants, the Vampire Courts, the Ogre Lords — all joined forces. They summoned ancient heroes, legendary warriors known as the Twelve Blades of Eden. The dragons awakened their oldest allies — three Ancient Beasts, each older than time and said to carry the weight of natural law.
But even that wasn't enough.
Because Silent Death was not alone.
She had her own army — more than soldiers, more than monsters.
She had her Three Royal Guards, each one a nightmare in flesh. She had legions of Dark Elves, battle-hardened Demons, corrupted Ogres, undead Ghouls, and her infamous Shadow Army, assassins born from darkness itself.
Then the real war began.
It was the bloodiest battle in recorded history. Kingdoms fell. Continents shifted. The oceans boiled. And for the first time… Silent Death began to lose.
Her army, so fearsome and vast, began to fall under the combined might of the world. Her commanders were slain. Her forces thinned. For a moment, the world believed it could win.
We thought she might finally die, We were scared of she dies, we will too.
But that's when she showed us how wrong we were.
She didn't flee. She didn't surrender.
She Recreate new system, new Power level in this magical world— something worse.
A division unlike anything ever seen before. A final act of vengeance and rebirth.
She called them the Sons of Disaster.
I was too young to understand the name when I first heard it whispered in the dark:
Sons of Disaster.
A power not born, but given.
Not a blessing, but a bargain.
A gift… or perhaps a curse.
They were her creation.
She had seen the tides of war shift. She had watched as her legions began to falter. And so, she turned to something deeper, darker. Something buried far beneath even the Demon Gate.
She bled for them.
Not metaphorically.
Literally.
She cut herself open, let her blood pour into the sacred water of the Abyss, and forced her most loyal soldiers to drink it, to awaken them. Most didn't. But those who did… changed.
If a body accepted the blood and awaken, something began to form in the heart. A crystal. Small. Blood-red. A piece of her — crystallized power drawn from grief, rage, and ancient magic that predated the gods themselves.
That single crystal became the source of their might.
Her essence — living inside them.
Thus, the Sons of Disaster were born.
They were no longer soldiers. They were walking cataclysms.
In weeks, they broke the stalemate. Eden's armies fell like dominos.
Dragon clans were shattered.
Empires reduced to ash.
Heroes — warriors blessed by gods themselves — were burned through in a matter of hours.
They didn't fight wars.
They ended them.
With the Sons of Disaster at her side, Silent Death became more than a threat. She became a myth still breathing — an apocalypse wrapped in mortal flesh.
Even the lower gods… could no longer ignore her.
But sealing her…
That wasn't simple.
Even after 90% of her energy had been sealed centuries before by true supreme God, she remained powerful enough to challenge the celestial order. And so the Second Great War began — not between nations, not between monsters…
But between Heaven and Silent Death.
We didn't see it.
We were too busy fighting the divine army sent by the gods to burn our world clean. We held the last lines while legends clashed in the skies above us.
They say she fought the gods themselves. That she killed three of them before they brought her down. That even the stars we see now are dimmer than they once were — because of her.
Eventually, they sealed her — not in stone, or flesh, or magic.
They sealed her in silence the very own place she was gifted by True God.
The Silent Lair, a place beyond the reach of man or monster not dragon. A prison that doesn't exist on any map. A void untouched by time.
But even in victory… they feared her.
The lower gods turned their wrath on her creations. The Sons of Disaster were hunted like beasts. Slaughtered one by one. Their bodies burned. Their hearts shattered to dust. Some fled, scattering across the region, hiding their cursed power. A few escaped to other worlds, it's easy to identify Those who have Silent lair blood, they have crimson eye so they were hunted down.
As for us — the demons who had once served her…
We were bound again.
Not by chains of steel… but by divine contract.
A curse.
We couldn't move. Couldn't speak without permission. Couldn't rise. Couldn't fly.
Like chained dogs under a forgotten tree, we withered in the shadow of a war that no longer belonged to us.
And I grew up in that stillness.
I don't remember my parents. Only stone walls, sealed skies, and the sound of silence pressing in on me every day. I used to dream of flying above the Demon Kingdom — racing between clouds, feeling wind in my wings. I dreamed of battles. Of freedom. Of fire.
But dreams mean nothing when you're bound by a curse older than the sun.
Still… I never stopped dreaming.
Because dreams — no matter how faint — are seeds.
And someday, they grow teeth.
And for me… they did.
It happened on the day I stopped believing it ever could.
I was shackled, half-starved, barely conscious — a forgotten relic in a world that had long since moved on. My breath was shallow. My wings had long withered. I was waiting for death, or for time to wear me down to nothing.
Then the circle appeared.
A glowing ring of symbols carved itself into the stone beneath me — crude, clumsy, unstable. The work of a novice. And yet… it worked.
In a flash of light, I was ripped from my prison and thrown into another world. Not Nova. Not the demon realms. Somewhere else entirely.
Earth.
I arrived in a chamber of marble and gold, summoned by a royal magician under the banner of a human emperor. They thought I was a weapon — something to wield and discard. I let them believe that.
I played the obedient servant. I crushed their enemies. I bathed their throne in the blood of rivals. For the first time in centuries, I walked freely. I fed. I laughed. I lived.
And for a while, I let myself believe I was free.
But reality is cruel. It doesn't scream — it whispers.
I learned the truth in fragments, slowly, like poison dripping through a vein: I was not free. I was a contracted demon — still bound by the curse of my kind. The summoning hadn't broken the chain; it had simply relocated it.
Worse yet, humans are fragile creatures.
Eighty years at best.
A blink of time. And when my summoner died… I would be dragged back.
To the same shackles.
To the same silence.
To the same damn curse.
So I began to twist the rules.
I studied the ritual that brought me here. Rewrote it. Reinforced it. Reversed it.
And I began to summon humans myself — one after another — forcing them to bind themselves to me. I leapt from master to master, keeping the curse at bay while I searched for something more.
For an escape.
Then I found it.
Buried in old divine language, hidden among the punishment clauses, was a loophole: if I could consume the Blood Crystal of a Son of Disaster — one of her blessed — my contract would shift. I would belong not to a human… but to her.
The Silent Death.
And since she was sealed, unreachable, untouched by time or fate, I would be free.
No orders. No leash. No threat of return.
Just freedom. Pure and final.
And she was not just a sorceress. She was something older — something eternal. A Primordial Dragon. Even sealed, she radiated power the gods feared. She would never die. She couldn't.
But there was a problem.
The Sons of Disaster were gone. Extinct. Slaughtered after the Second Great War. The few who survived scattered, hiding themselves among mortal races, burying their bloodlines deep enough to be forgotten.
And to lay my hands on a Son of Disaster… was nearly impossible.
To do so, I had to enter the Nova World—a realm I had no connection to.
Not by blood. Not by birth.
I belonged neither to Nova, nor to Earth. I was in between, a fragment lost in the void.
Which meant…
I didn't even know where Nova was.
I had no coordinates. No portal key. No anchor.
Without that, I could never reach the Sons of Disaster.
Never reach her.
And so, my final hope crumbled.
I accepted the truth… and surrendered to time.
Centuries passed—eight hundred years of silence, of stillness, of pretending to live.
Until one day—by chance, or perhaps by cruel design—I met
Yuuta.
A boy. Small. Frail. Ordinary.
But the moment I saw him, I knew.
The blood in his veins was not human.
It pulsed with a rhythm I hadn't heard in centuries.
He hadn't awakened, not yet… but the seed was there.
Her blood.
He was one of them.
A dormant Son of Disaster.
And if I could awaken him… if I could draw out that crystal, take it into myself and
She would become my master.
And with her sealed, I would belong to no one.
I would finally be free.
But to awaken him…
To awaken what sleeps in his blood…
I'll need to break him first, this is the only way to Awaken him
Although I tried to awaken him in past,
I even pushed his daughter into the lion's cage,
hoping the fear, the blood, the pain would trigger something inside him.
That the sight of her being mauled would awaken the Son of Disaster within Yuuta... right there in that wretched zoo.
But she saved him.
The Divine Witch—Erza.
I don't know who she truly is.
But her presence… her aura…
It made even me recoil in fear.
There's something ancient about her.
Something that doesn't belong in this world.
But now, she's distracted—occupied by Faluni.
And her daughter? She's in danger again.
A mother will always protect her child.
And while she's busy shielding that girl…
She won't see the truth about Yuuta until it's far, far too late.
"Lord Allen!"
Xemon—the torture demon—shouted from deep within the cavern where I had chained Yuuta.
His voice echoed through the dark, twisted walls.
"There's something wrong with him! His eyes… they're glowing crimson red!"
A hush fell over the chamber.
The scent of blood hung in the air.
Even the fire torches flickered, as if trembling.
I stepped forward, slowly. Then, with a wide grin, I clapped my hands.
"Finally…" I whispered.
"It's happening."
The awakening had begun.
The blood of the Son of Disaster had stirred.
After all these years… my masterpiece was coming to life.
My great plan is about to unfold.
And with it—
my true freedom.
—To Be Continued