The throne room of the Demon King was vast as a cathedral, its black stone pillars stretching toward a ceiling lost in shadow. Crimson fire burned in tall braziers, their light flickering across runes carved into the obsidian walls. Every step echoed like a hammer striking an anvil, and every voice carried, whether whispered or shouted.
Tonight, those voices belonged to the high officials of the realm. Dozens of them stood gathered in black robes embroidered with the sigils of their houses. Horns polished to gleam, their voices rose in sharp argument:
"The trade routes to Drakenshade are being taxed beyond reason!"
"Our armies must fortify Kaelvryn's border before the humans strike again!"
"The angels—do not forget the angels! Their silence is not peace, it is preparation!"
Each voice clashed like steel, yet none dared grow too loud beneath the gaze of the one who sat upon the throne.
The Demon King.
He leaned back against the towering obsidian seat, one hand resting on the carved armrest, his crimson eyes half-lidded. His presence alone silenced tempers, pressing down on the chamber like the weight of a storm.
Then, the heavy doors creaked open.
The voices stilled at once.
"Grandfather!"
Every eye turned.
A boy no taller than the throne's steps marched confidently across the stone floor, silver hair catching the crimson firelight. His small horns gleamed, his golden eyes burned with a light far too sharp for his age.
Gasps rippled across the officials.
The prince… here? In the throne room?
Asura stopped at the base of the throne. For one brief heartbeat, silence reigned. Then, taking a deep breath, he bent forward in a clumsy bow, exactly as Selene had drilled into him. His little body wobbled, his horns nearly clacked against the floor, but he held it.
"Grandfather," he said clearly, his childish voice echoing through the hall, "can I… use the training yard again?"
The silence shattered.
"He's only four years old!" hissed one official, his robe rustling as he turned to his peers.
"Training at his age is absurd," another muttered, lips curling in disdain. "Does His Majesty intend to break the child before he can even hold a blade?"
"This is dangerous—he is the heir! He should be protected, not thrown into battle drills—"
Their whispers built into a storm.
Then the Demon King moved.
Just a glance—only that. His molten-crimson eyes swept the chamber, and the voices died at once. The silence returned, suffocating.
And then, slowly, the corners of his mouth curved upward. A grin stretched across his face, dangerous, proud.
"Of course you may," he said, his voice booming like thunder rolling over the land. His laughter followed, echoing from the vaulted ceiling. "What kind of demon prince would you be if you did not thirst for strength?"
He lifted a clawed hand.
"Knight!"
A towering figure stepped from the ranks of armored soldiers lining the chamber walls. His armor was black steel, his horns jagged and long. He knelt before the throne, fist pressed to the floor.
"Escort my grandson to the training yard," the Demon King commanded. "And clear it. He will train in private."
The knight bowed his head. "As you command, my king."
The officials gaped, scandalized. Some trembled at the recklessness of it, others ground their teeth in frustration, but not one of them dared voice protest. To challenge the Demon King's will was to invite death.
Asura straightened from his bow, golden eyes flashing with satisfaction.
Perfect. Exactly what I needed.
But he kept his smirk hidden, puffing his cheeks like an overeager child as though this were nothing more than a game.
Selene, standing at the edge of the chamber, pressed a hand lightly to her chest. Her violet eyes softened with worry—but also pride.
And the Demon King, leaning back into his throne, let his grin widen.
Yes… show them. Show them the bloodline you carry.
✦ The Private Yard
The gates boomed shut, the sound reverberating like the toll of a bell across the empty expanse. For the first time since it was carved from the castle itself, the Demon King's private training grounds belonged entirely to a boy barely four years old.
The silence was heavy, almost sacred.
The yard sprawled out wider than a battlefield, its obsidian walls towering like black cliffs. Rows of weapon racks lined the edges—bristling with steel forged by the finest demon smiths, their blades gleaming even in shadow. Training dummies stood like soldiers frozen mid-march, their wood splintered and scarred from centuries of strikes. The stone floor itself was no less battered—etched with cracks from impact, pitted with craters left by spells, scorched black from flames that had burned hotter than the sun.
It was a place soaked with memory. The ghosts of a thousand duels seemed to linger, whispering in the hiss of the wind. Here, generals had clashed to prove their worth. Here, the King himself had once stood, carving his legend into stone and blood.
And now, a child stood where giants had trained.
Asura walked slowly to the very center, the soles of his bare feet brushing against the rough stone. Above him, the sky stretched wide, painted in hues of crimson and violet. The sun bled through a haze of mana that clung eternally to the Demon Realm, casting the entire yard in a light that was both fiery and otherworldly.
He inhaled deeply. The air here was different—thicker, heavier, saturated with the lingering mana of every warrior who had shed sweat and blood within these walls.
"…Finally." His voice rang clear, carried on the wind. "No more sneaking. No more hiding."
The wooden katana in his hand looked pitiful compared to the arsenal glittering along the racks. Yet he held it reverently, turning it in his grip as though it were a blade of legend. The polished wood had been shaped by his own hands, not a smith's. It bore no edge, no runes, no history—except his.
"This one's mine," he whispered, fingers tightening on the hilt. "And with it… I'll carve a future."
His aura stirred.
Like a slumbering beast opening its eyes, it rolled out in invisible waves. The air quivered. Dust scattered from the stone tiles. The weapon racks rattled, swords clinking in their sheaths. The wooden dummies groaned under the pressure as if bowing before the power pressing down upon them.
Dark sparks flickered faintly around Asura's body, snapping like embers. His silver hair lifted with the charge, his horns humming faintly as though resonating with the mana around him.
His golden eyes gleamed like molten steel under moonlight, sharp, bright, and unflinching.
"Time to really test this system."
Ding.
The system window flickered faintly in the corner of his vision. No one else could see it. No one else could even imagine it. It was his alone—his secret, his weapon.
[Private Training Mode: Activated]
A grin stretched across his lips.
"Perfect."
The arena seemed to hold its breath, the silence thickening. The scorched stones, the splintered dummies, the ancient walls—all of it seemed to lean in, watching, waiting.
Asura lifted the wooden katana, resting it against his shoulder. His small frame was dwarfed by the vastness of the training ground, yet his presence filled it as though he belonged.
His heartbeat quickened, not with fear, but with exhilaration.
"…This world's about to learn what I can do."
The boy's aura surged, and the Training Yard roared to life.
✦ Sword Skills – Anime Style
The wooden katana hummed in his grip. To anyone else, it was a stick carved into shape. To Asura, it was the key to a dream.
His golden eyes narrowed, and the ground beneath him crackled with mana.
"Water Technique, Form X—Dragon Flux!"
He spun. The katana whirled in a fluid spiral, his body moving with an elegance no four-year-old should have possessed. Mana surged from the arc, shimmering like liquid light. The air twisted, rippling outward as though struck by a tsunami.
Then—boom.
A wall of invisible force smashed into the wooden dummies. They didn't just crack—they exploded, splinters raining down as the shattered pieces were flung across the yard. The racks of spears clattered violently, a storm of wood and steel crashing into the far wall.
Asura skidded to a stop, panting lightly. His chest heaved, not from exhaustion, but exhilaration.
"Ha… it worked. It actually worked."
But he wasn't done.
His aura surged, the shadows at his feet writhing like serpents. He lifted the katana again, raising it high overhead.
"Raijin-ryu—Dragon Fang!"
The wooden blade came down.
The yard screamed.
Stone tiles shattered like glass, a jagged fissure ripping outward in a straight line. Dust plumed high into the sky, choking the sunlight. The ground shook with the force, sending cracks crawling across the entire floor of the arena.
Asura grinned, golden eyes gleaming with manic joy.
"Eclipse Cleave!"
The katana flashed, too fast for even the air to react. For a moment, there was silence—then the world split open.
A black scar stretched across the yard, carved into the earth itself. The edges burned faintly with void-like energy, refusing to close. Even the air above it quivered, the atmosphere still sliced.
The yard fell still.
Then—
Ding!
[Technique Acquired – Swordsmanship Lv. 5]
Ding!
[Unique Sword Art Acquired – Phantom Flux Slash]
Ding!
[Adaptive Sword Style: Progressing – Memory Absorption Activated]
The system flared violently, notifications spilling into his vision until he could barely keep up.
[Agility increased by +200]
[Intelligence increased by +100]
[Unique Technique Acquired – Flowing Wave Slash]
[Unique Technique Acquired – Eclipse Phantom Arc]
[Adaptive Sword Style: Evolving…]
[WARNING: User has exceeded normal growth parameters.]
Asura froze. Then his grin widened.
"This is insane…" he whispered, his voice trembling with laughter. "They work. Every technique I remember, every move I loved—they all work here!"
He laughed breathlessly, the sound echoing off the cracked walls. His small frame trembled, not from fear, but from pure joy.
In his old world, these moves had been fiction. Lines of dialogue. Dramatic poses. Things that lived only on screens, mocked by reality.
But here—
Here, a four-year-old boy had split the ground, scarred the air, and torn apart an arena with nothing more than a wooden sword and his imagination.
The Training Yard was unrecognizable. Splintered dummies lay scattered like corpses. Weapon racks leaned at broken angles. The stone tiles were fractured into jagged islands of rubble, dust and smoke still swirling in the air.
Asura lowered his katana, chest heaving, golden eyes wide with exhilaration.
"…I'm not just playing anymore. I am the protagonist."
He let out another laugh, raw and unrestrained, the kind of laughter that shook with disbelief and hunger.
And in the stillness that followed, the system chimed one last time.
Ding!
[Title Acquired: One Who Brings Fiction to Life]
✦ Magic Skills – The True Test
But he wasn't done.
The sword still hummed in his hand, but Asura lowered it, raising his free palm instead. His heart raced. The air tingled, mana rippling outward from his fingertips like sparks leaping off a storm.
"Alright…" He grinned, eyes glinting with mischief. "Let's see if magic works too."
He cupped both hands together, his small frame trembling as raw power condensed between them. A sphere of light grew, swirling blue and white, its energy whining like a coiled spring about to snap.
Sweat trickled down his temple. His hair lifted, standing on end from the mana surging through him. His horns pulsed faintly with light.
"Don't sue me for this one!" he shouted, laughing.
The sphere snapped forward.
FWOOM!
A blinding beam tore through the air, roaring like thunder. It smashed into the far wall of the training yard with the force of a meteor, obliterating stone and steel alike. Half the wall vanished in an explosion of rubble and dust. Shards of obsidian rained down, crashing into the ground with deafening cracks.
The shockwave rattled the entire yard, knocking weapon racks onto their sides and scattering splintered dummies into heaps of smoking debris.
Asura stumbled backward, blinking at the devastation.
"…Oh crap." He clutched his head, his grin splitting into nervous laughter. "That actually worked. That actually—oh, I'm so dead if anyone sees this!"
But the rush wouldn't let him stop.
He inhaled deeply, his chest burning as mana swirled hotter, heavier, pulling at something deeper inside him. His small body trembled, yet it felt… familiar. Like he'd done this before.
He lowered into a stance, fist clenching. Sparks of electricity crackled across his arm. The world hushed, unnaturally quiet—until faint birdsong echoed in his ears, phantom chirps that made his skin prickle.
His fist blurred.
CRACK!
The steel dummy in front of him shattered like paper, fragments exploding outward as electricity screamed in all directions. Stone split, air rippled, the very mana around him distorted by the force of his strike.
The system flared.
Ding!
[Skill Acquired – Lightning Fist]
[Derived Ability – Thousand Birds Resonance]
Asura's breath caught, his golden eyes widening in awe.
"…No way. Even that worked!?"
His grin stretched feral. He wasn't finished.
Darkness welled within him, boiling in his veins. His vision blurred with heat as mana surged toward his horns and eyes. He raised his hand, his voice low, trembling with both excitement and madness.
"Black Flame… Hellfire!"
His golden eyes ignited.
Twin streams of dark fire burst forth, streaking across the yard like demons unleashed. The flames clung to the wooden dummies, devouring them whole. The fire didn't burn orange—it devoured in black and violet, leaving only ash and the stench of scorched earth.
The yard screamed under his assault. Fire danced across the stones, sparks crawling over every surface before vanishing into smoke.
The system chimed again, rapid-fire.
Ding!
[Unique Element Unlocked – Abyssal Flame]
[Skill Acquired – Hellfire Surge]
[Warning: User has manifested a forbidden-element variant.]
Asura fell to one knee, panting, his grin shaky but unstoppable. His silver hair clung to his sweat-damp forehead.
Every strike, every blast, every wild move lit the sky with destruction.
He stared at his trembling hands, at the smoke still rising from the wreckage, at the black flames still licking stubbornly at the stones.
"…I'm a monster," he whispered—then laughed, breathless, almost hysterical.
The training yard was gone, transformed into a cratered ruin of rubble, ash, and fractured stone.
And somewhere deep within the castle… someone would have to have heard.
✦ The Yard of Ruin
The smoke clung to the air long after the blasts had faded.
For a time, there was no sound—no birdsong, no wind, no distant clatter of guards on patrol. Only the faint hiss of stone cooling, the crackle of mana still leaking from the earth like blood from an open wound.
Asura stood at the epicenter of it all, his small frame dwarfed by the ruin he had created.
The training yard was unrecognizable.
The once-proud obsidian walls now lay half-toppled, massive slabs of stone scattered like fallen giants. Entire sections of the barrier had been obliterated, open to the horizon beyond. The ground was a spiderweb of fissures, jagged cracks glowing faintly red where molten mana still pulsed deep beneath the surface. Training dummies had been reduced to nothing but blackened stumps, their ashes drifting lazily through the air like snow.
The Yard of Ruin had lived up to its name—and then some.
Asura panted, breath fogging in the hot air, his hair plastered to his forehead with sweat. His wooden katana dangled loosely from his hand, the once-polished grain now scorched, humming faintly as though it had drunk in the destruction with him.
"…I completely destroyed it," he whispered, his voice raw.
Silence answered him.
Then the system woke.
Ding.
[Strength +500]
Ding.
[Agility +750]
Ding.
[Intelligence +300]
The chimes kept coming. Dozens. Hundreds. They overlapped until it was like standing beneath a rain of bells.
[Unique Sword Art Acquired – Void Splitter]
[Unique Sword Art Acquired – Eclipse Phantom Arc]
[Unique Sword Art Acquired – Phantom Flux Slash]
[Adaptive Sword Style: Lv. 7 → Lv. 10]
[Derivative Skill Created – Momentum Flow]
[Derivative Skill Created – Mirage Strike]
He blinked, golden eyes darting over each new line, his chest tightening with every one.
"…This… this is unreal."
But the system didn't stop.
[Elemental Affinity Expansion – Lightning Registered]
[Elemental Affinity Expansion – Abyssal Flame Variant Registered]
[Warning: User has manifested a forbidden-element derivative.]
[Adaptive Growth Potential: Triggered. Parameters unlocked.]
Each notification was another weight pressing on him, not of burden—but of possibility. His body tingled with new strength. His aura pulsed heavier, darker, the air bending faintly around him with every breath.
His lips twitched. Then spread wider.
And wider.
Until he was grinning like a madman.
"Anime moves… are broken in this world."
His laugh tore from his throat, wild and breathless. It rang out across the empty battlefield, echoing against broken stone and through the open sky. It didn't sound like the laugh of a four-year-old child. It sounded like the laugh of someone who had just rewritten the rules of existence.
But as the laughter died down, his heart thudded hard against his ribs.
The mana still churned around him. The ground still hummed faintly with the aftershocks of his techniques. Even the smoke rising from the ruins glowed faintly where energy clung stubbornly to it.
Someone had to have felt it.
The knights patrolling the walls. Selene in her chambers. His grandfather in the throne room. Perhaps even creatures beyond the castle, lurking in the Demon Realm wilderness.
Asura's grin softened, but his golden eyes gleamed sharper than ever.
"…Then let them feel it," he murmured, tightening his grip on the wooden katana. "This is only the beginning."
And the Yard of Ruin lay silent, bearing witness to the birth of a calamity.
✦ The Problem
The rush of adrenaline drained from his body, leaving behind a hollow quiet.
The yard around him felt… different now. A battlefield after the war. Smoke still curled from cracks in the ground, rising in thin, accusing tendrils. The broken walls leaned inward like silent witnesses, their jagged edges pointing down at him. Even the air seemed heavier, as though the weight of what he'd done pressed back against his skin.
Asura shifted uneasily, his small hand tightening around the wooden katana. His grin faltered, then slipped away entirely.
"…Crap."
The word echoed in the empty ruin, bouncing mockingly off the broken stone.
His heart pounded, not from excitement this time, but from the realization clawing at him. He'd gone too far.
What was he going to tell Grandfather?
He pictured it vividly—the Demon King striding into the Yard of Ruin, crimson eyes narrowing, his voice rolling like thunder. "What happened here, boy?" The image made his stomach twist.
He couldn't say the truth. He couldn't say, I've got a cheat system that lets me turn anime moves into reality. He couldn't say, I destroyed your sacred training ground because I was bored and wanted to play protagonist.
The excuses churned in his head, one after another.
"Uh… the wall just… fell over on its own?"
"No, wait. There was an earthquake. Totally natural."
"Actually—uh—monsters? Yeah, a monster snuck in and blew everything up. I chased it away!"
He dragged a hand down his face and groaned.
"…Yeah. Right. Like he'd believe any of that."
The Demon King wasn't just anyone. He wasn't Selene, who smiled knowingly and let him get away with childish excuses. His grandfather was a ruler who had reigned for centuries, a being who saw through lies the way fire saw through paper. Trying to play dumb would work once, maybe twice, but not forever.
Asura let out a long sigh, scratching the back of his head, his silver hair sticking up in messy tufts.
"…Guess I'll just play dumb anyway," he muttered with a forced grin. "Worked with Selene. Might work again."
But his eyes betrayed him—silver orbs reflecting the ruin all around.
Because he knew. Deep down, he knew.
Sooner or later, the truth would come out.
And when it did, things would never be the same.
He pictured it—the whispers of the nobles, eyes wide with fear and greed. A child who wields forbidden flames. A prince who cracks the earth with a stick. A monster in human skin.
He imagined Selene's gentle voice, not warm this time, but trembling. "Young master… what are you?"
And worst of all, he imagined the look in his grandfather's eyes. Not pride. Not amusement. But cold calculation, weighing whether his grandson was heir… or weapon.
Asura's grip tightened on the wooden katana until his knuckles whitened.
"Sooner or later… someone's gonna figure it out," he whispered.
The smoke swirled higher, twisting skyward like a signal fire.
And when that day came, the world would never look at him as a child again. He would no longer be Asura, the Demon King's grandson.
He would be something else entirely.
A weapon.
A threat.
A calamity waiting to be unleashed.
The thought chilled him. But as he stood in the ruins of the yard, golden eyes gleaming faintly through the haze, he felt something else coil within his chest.
Not dread. Not regret.
Excitement.
"…Heh." His lips curved into a faint, dangerous smile. "Then let them look."
The Yard of Ruin lay silent, but it bore witness to his oath.