Consciousness returned slowly, like a ripple spreading across a still, black lake.
Marcus felt no pain, no wind, no warmth. The last memory he carried was the cold touch of steel and the echo of thousands of voices calling for his death.
He remembered the blade descending, the cheers that followed, and the emptiness that came after.
For a moment, he wondered if this was simply another layer of death.
Then his eyes opened.
A vast ceiling stretched above him, formed from black stone that shimmered like polished obsidian.
Crimson lines ran across it like glowing veins, pulsing faintly with a life of their own.
The light was dim, yet it illuminated the enormous hall with an eerie, regal glow.
The air felt heavy, ancient, and still, as if this place had existed long before kingdoms, heroes, or even the war itself.
Marcus did not feel the ground beneath his feet. Instead, he felt elevated, supported by something solid and cold.
He slowly lowered his gaze and realized he was sitting on a throne.
It was massive, far larger than any throne he had ever seen in the royal halls of Deos.
The structure was forged from dark metal and jagged crystal, its surface uneven and sharp like the edges of broken blades.
The armrests were shaped like clawed hands, frozen in the act of gripping the air.
Behind him, the back of the throne rose high, splitting into shapes that resembled twisted wings.
It did not look like a seat meant for a king. It looked like something meant for a conqueror.
Marcus remained still for a moment, letting the sight settle into his mind.
"So this is my third," he murmured quietly.
His voice echoed through the vast chamber, deeper and steadier than he remembered.
There was no tremor, no fatigue. It sounded like the voice of someone who had never known weakness.
A faint sense of unease passed through him. Slowly, he lifted his hands into his field of vision.
They were covered in black armor.
The gauntlets were not crude or bulky.
They were sleek and layered, each segment overlapping the other like the scales of a dragon.
Thin crimson lines ran through the metal, glowing faintly as if energy flowed beneath the surface.
The armor did not feel like something he was wearing. It felt like an extension of his body, moving with his fingers as naturally as skin and bone.
He flexed his hand. The metal responded instantly, without stiffness or resistance.
There was no weight, no strain. Instead, he felt strength coiled within his fingers, like a storm waiting to be unleashed.
Marcus slowly stood from the throne. The sound of armored boots striking the black stone floor echoed across the enormous hall.
Only then did he notice how different his body felt.
There was no lingering pain from the wound that had torn through his side. No fatigue from endless battles. No stiffness from heavy armor worn for days without rest.
His body felt lighter, yet more powerful.
Every movement carried a sense of stability and control that he had never known before.
He began to walk forward, his gaze drifting across the throne room.
Massive pillars lined both sides of the chamber, each one carved from the same dark stone as the ceiling.
Ancient demonic symbols were etched into their surfaces, glowing faintly with crimson light.
Between the pillars hung long black banners bearing an unfamiliar emblem: a
The symbol looked less like a decoration and more like a declaration.A declaration of war.
At the far end of the hall stood a set of enormous doors made of dark steel.
Their surfaces were engraved with monstrous faces, each frozen in a silent, eternal roar.
The doors were closed, as if waiting for a command that had not yet been given.
There were no guards.
No servants.
No nobles waiting to greet him.
No knights standing in formation.
The emptiness of the hall was almost comforting.
Marcus stopped at the center of the chamber and looked down at his armored hands again.
The crimson lines pulsed faintly with each beat of his heart.
"This body isn't human anymore," he said quietly.
The realization did not bring fear. Instead, it brought a strange calmness. In his past life, he had always carried the weight of responsibility.
Every decision he made affected thousands. Every mistake cost lives. Every act of kindness had been twisted into a weakness.
Now, that life was over.
A faint blue glow suddenly appeared in front of his eyes, forming a familiar rectangular screen.
[SSS-RANK DEMON SOVEREIGN SYSTEM]
Host: Marcus von Zusakus
Class: Demon Sovereign
Race: Dark knight
Primary Skill: Demonic Authority
Secondary Skill: Supreme Demon Gacha
Domain: Zareth island
Marcus read the words in silence.
"Demon Sovereign,"he repeated softly.
Not a demon soldier. Not even a simple demon lord.
A sovereign.
The title felt heavy, but not unpleasant. It carried authority, dominance, and inevitability.
It was a title that did not ask for loyalty. It demanded submission.
A faint smile appeared on his face.
"So goodness executed me," he said,
"and evil crowned me instead."
He clenched his fist slowly. The crimson lines on his gauntlet brightened, and for a brief moment, the air in the hall grew heavier.
The pillars trembled slightly, and the runes carved into them glowed brighter, as if responding to his presence.
Marcus noticed it immediately.
He relaxed his hand, and the trembling stopped. The glow returned to its faint, steady pulse.
"So even this place reacts to me," he murmured.
"When i got furious,this place trembled...it seems this place is connected to me."
He turned his gaze toward the massive doors at the end of the hall.
Somewhere beyond them was the world that had once called him king… and then traitor.
A world that had betrayed him.
His expression hardened slightly, though his voice remained calm.
"In my first life, I was powerless," he said, his words echoing softly through the chamber.
"In my second life, I was kind."
He looked back at the throne behind him, its jagged shape standing like a monument to something darker.
"In this life, I will be ruthless."
The crimson runes across the hall glowed a little brighter, as if acknowledging his declaration.
Deep beneath the throne room, something ancient seemed to stir, though no sound reached the surface.
Marcus slowly turned back toward the throne, his armored footsteps echoing across the black stone floor.
The emptiness of the hall no longer felt strange.
It felt fitting.
For a sovereign did not need a crowd.
He only needed a world to conquer.
He exhaled slowly.
"First… I need to know about my new body."
The words echoed softly across the chamber.
A faint blue glow flickered before his eyes as if responding to his intention.
The familiar system interface materialized once again, hovering in midair.
[SSS-RANK DEMON SOVEREIGN SYSTEM]
Host: Marcus von Zusakus
Class: Demon Sovereign
Race: Dark knight
Primary Skill: Demonic Authority
Secondary Skill: Supreme Demon Gacha
Domain: Zareth island
Marcus studied the panel calmly.
No visible stats.
No strength or agility numbers.
No magic capacity displayed.
"Different from the game-like systems I've seen in stories," he muttered.
His gaze shifted toward the Primary Skill.
Demonic Authority.
He raised his armored hand and pressed the option.
The interface responded instantly.
The screen dissolved into fragments of light before reforming into a larger, more detailed panel. The text glowed brighter than before, the letters etched in deep crimson rather than blue.
•Grants absolute dominion within the Sovereign Domain.
•Inside the Domain, the host is invincible.
•All fatal damage is nullified.
•Physical, magical, and conceptual attacks are rendered ineffective.
•The host cannot be defeated while the Domain persists.
•Aura Suppression activates automatically within territory.All enemies are forcibly suppressed regardless of rank or power.Divine, holy, and legendary beings are not exempt.
•Mental resistance collapses under sustained pressure.
•All allied demonic units receive overwhelming stat amplification.
•Authority scales with achievements befitting a Demon Lord.
•Evolution paths unlock upon fulfilling sovereign-level feats.
•Within his Domain, the host is treated as a godlike existence.Host's power is endless and infinite in his domain.
•Within his Domain, the host is the strongest existence without exception.
After reading the functions of Demonic Authority, the words seemed to echo in his mind again and again.
"absolute control,Aura suppression, total domination,strongest..."
His eyes widened slowly.
The air around him felt heavier, as if even the world itself was bowing to him.
He raised his hand and stared at it, clenching his fingers into a fist.
A strange, overwhelming confidence surged through his veins. It wasn't arrogance. It was instinct,like a king who had just remembered his throne.
His heartbeat grew louder.
"…Invincibility...strongest...."
He swallowed.
He looked around the empty space, a faint smirk forming on his lips.
"With this skill...Ain't I a god inside my domain?!"
Silence answered him.
But deep inside, he already knew the truth.
If the system's words were accurate and if the skill worked exactly as described...
Then anyone who stepped into his territory would be nothing more than prey standing before a predator.
No,even worse.
They would be like mortals standing before a deity.
A slow, dangerous smile spread across his face.
"Looks like… this new life won't be boring after all."