DEMON KING'S Love Redemption

Chapter 2: The Demon King's Retirement Plan

Vann sat on the edge of his bed, staring at his still-trembling palms. The remnants of his brief encounter with Freya in the courtyard were etched vividly in his mind. Her guarded gaze and the way her slender yet firm fingers gripped the hilt of her sword—those were the instincts of a demon hunter. They weren't fully refined yet, but they were already sharp enough to sense a threat.

"She hated me before I even did a thing," Vann whispered, his voice raspy. The words echoed off the cramped dormitory walls.

This room was the silent witness to the beginning of his descent in his first life. Beneath the bed, behind loose floorboards, and inside a desk drawer sealed with a locking hex, lay the 'seeds' of ruin. The teenage Vann had been a youth starved for recognition. Since his talent for light-element magic was pathetic, he had begun searching for shortcuts. He had collected cursed artifacts, read forbidden scrolls, and experimented with energies that no human was ever meant to touch.

Vann stood up, his steps steady as he approached the wooden wardrobe in the corner. With a sharp flick of his hand infused with a trace of mana, the wardrobe's lock shattered. Inside, books bound in what looked suspiciously like human skin were piled high, alongside vials of liquid that churned violently despite the lack of heat.

Grimoire of the Abyssal Soul. Dagger of Malice. Blood of the Ancient Chimera.

These items had been his ticket to the Demon King’s throne. Once, he had viewed them as treasures; now, they looked like nothing more than a heap of foul-smelling garbage.

"If I want to stand by Freya's side, these things cannot exist. No trace of darkness can be left in this room," he resolved.

Vann began pulling the items out one by one. He stacked them in the center of the room, right atop the worn wool rug. He knew that simply tossing them into the trash was a fool's errand. These objects possessed a consciousness of their own; if discarded haphazardly, they would find a way back or, worse, be discovered by some other weak-willed student.

The only way forward was total annihilation.

"The retirement plan starts here," Vann muttered, crouching before the pile of cursed relics. "I'll be a model student. I'll learn healing magic, protection spells, and all that boring stuff heroes love."

Vann took a deep breath. He tried to summon a small flame from his fingertip. As expected, his mana refused to behave normally. Instead of a warm orange flame, what emerged was a flicker of black sparks that seemed to suck the light out of the air.

Enough. I only need this fire to burn them, he thought.

He flicked his finger. The black spark landed on the Grimoire of the Abyssal Soul.

Instantly, the room turned cold—not hot. Such was the nature of high-level dark fire; it consumed essence rather than matter. However, something Vann hadn't accounted for happened. The books he had painstakingly collected possessed incredibly powerful magical wards. As Vann’s black fire touched the covers, a violent rejection reaction occurred.

BZZZZZT!

A shockwave of negative energy surged from the pile, hitting Vann square in the chest and sending him sprawling backward into his desk. An inkwell shattered, soaking his shirt, but Vann didn't care. His eyes widened at the sight in the middle of the room.

The black fire didn't go out. Instead, it devoured the curses within the books and swelled into a massive inferno that licked the ceiling. Thick, dark purple smoke began to fill the room, emitting a pungent stench of sulfur and charred flesh.

"Damn it! Stop!" Vann chanted a cancellation spell, but his overflowing dark mana only served as extra fuel for the blaze.

Outside the room, the quiet dormitory atmosphere was suddenly shattered. Magic alarms installed in every corridor began to blare, emitting a deafening, high-pitched screech.

"DEMONIC ENERGY DETECTED! THREAT LEVEL: HIGH!" the mechanical voice of the monitoring crystals echoed throughout the building.

Vann cursed under his breath. He had forgotten that the Aethelgard dorms were equipped with sensors highly sensitive to pure dark energy. In his previous life, he had used complex concealment charms to mask his activities. But now, in his enthusiasm to "repent," he had forgotten to set up any protection at all.

"Vann! What’s going on in there?!" Elric’s voice came from behind the door, followed by heavy pounding. "Vann! Open the door! There’s smoke coming out from the crack below!"

"Don't come in, Elric! I... I'm experimenting!" Vann shouted in a panic. He tried to smother the fire with his blanket, but the fabric turned to ash in seconds.

The fire was now forming a small vortex in the center of the room. Because the released energy was too great, the air pressure began to shatter the window panes. CRACK! Shards of glass flew toward the courtyard, and the purple smoke billowed high into the night sky, inadvertently forming a skull-shaped cloud from the lingering curses of the books.

"Enemy attack! There’s an intruder in the boys' dormitory!" someone screamed from outside.

Vann could hear the heavy footsteps of instructors and academy knights rushing toward his room. He could sense a powerful magical aura approaching—it had to be Professor Mordred, the head of the combat magic department, who was notoriously merciless.

"What kind of retirement plan is this..." Vann massaged his throbbing temples. "I’ve only been back for one day and I’m already being treated like a terrorist."

In desperation, Vann decided to use his last resort. If he couldn't extinguish the fire with magic, he would have to 'eat' it. He plunged his hand directly into the heart of the black flames. A bone-chilling cold raced up his arm, feeling as though thousands of ice needles were piercing his nerves.

Absorb. Return to your source, he commanded internally, wielding his absolute authority as the former ruler of darkness.

The fire roared as if refusing to be tamed, but before the will of a soul that had transcended time, it had no choice. Slowly but surely, the vortex of black fire and purple smoke was sucked into Vann's palm. A small, intricate magic circle appeared momentarily on the back of his hand before vanishing into his skin.

Just as the last spark died out, his door was blown off its hinges.

"DON'T MOVE!"

Professor Mordred burst in, his staff glowing brightly, followed by five knights with swords drawn. Behind them, other students—including a deathly pale Elric—peeked in with terror.

Vann’s room was a total wreck. The walls were blackened, the ceiling was cracked, the windows were shattered, and the smell of sulfur still hung heavy in the air. In the midst of the chaos, Vann stood with an ink-stained white shirt and a face covered in black soot. He looked like the victim of an explosion—or a failed saboteur.

Mordred narrowed his eyes, sniffing the air. "This smell... this isn't ordinary fire. This is high-level dark magic residue. Student Vann, explain what just happened. Where is the intruder?"

Vann swallowed hard. He had to think on his feet. If he admitted to destroying forbidden items, they would ask where he got them. If he claimed responsibility for the fire, he would be expelled or executed on the spot.

"It... it..." Vann put on the most innocent, traumatized face he could muster. He let his legs go weak and slumped down onto the cold floor. "Someone... someone suddenly appeared from the shadows of the window, Professor! He was wearing a black cloak and tried to give me this strange book!"

Vann pointed toward the charred remains on the floor.

"He told me I had 'immense potential,' but I turned him down! I shouted that I only wanted to be a diligent, loyal student of the academy!" Vann added a touch of drama, his voice trembling slightly. "Then he flew into a rage and torched all those books with this strange fire before leaping out the window!"

Professor Mordred walked toward the shattered window, staring out into the pitch-black night. The knights fanned out immediately, scouring the grounds beneath the dormitory tower.

"He was so fast," Vann continued, doubling down on his lie. "I tried to defend myself with a basic light spell—Lumen—but it just triggered an explosion!"

Elric took a step forward, looking at his friend with profound pity. "Vann... you poor soul. So you were nearly recruited by a demon cult?"

Vann gave a weak nod, rubbing his eyes as if wiping away tears (though he was really just clearing soot so it wouldn't sting). "I was so scared, Elric. I truly thought I was going to die."

Professor Mordred turned, fixing Vann with a piercing gaze that seemed to look right through the boy's skull. Mordred was a skeptical man. He sensed the residual energy in the room was far too pure for a mere 'Tier One light spell.' However, before him stood Vann, shivering and pathetic.

"The Demon Cult is growing bold enough to infiltrate Aethelgard," Mordred muttered, more to himself than anyone else. "They seek out students who seem weak and isolated to use as vessels."

Mordred approached Vann and placed a hand on the young man's shoulder. Vann held his breath, fearing the professor might detect the core of dark mana within his heart. But he had buried it deep within the darkest recesses of his soul.

"You are lucky to be alive, boy," Mordred said, his tone softening ever so slightly. "Refusing their offer was the right choice. For now, you must come with us to the infirmary for an evaluation. And tomorrow, you are to provide a full report to the headmaster."

"Of course, Professor. Thank you for saving me," Vann replied politely, bowing his head.

As the knights escorted him from the room, Vann passed a crowd of students gathered in the corridor. The whispers began immediately.

"Look at that, quiet little Vann. To think the demon cult was after him."

"Maybe it is because he looks so gloomy; they probably thought he was one of them."

"Ugh, how terrifying. Good thing he fought back."

Vann kept his head down, suppressing the sneer that threatened to surface. At least his reputation as a "victim" was firmly established. However, he stopped in his tracks when he spotted a figure at the end of the hall, leaning against a stone pillar with her arms crossed.

Freya.

She wasn't in her armor, but wearing a silk white nightgown with a blue wool cloak draped over her shoulders. Her blonde hair was a mess, a sign she had just been jolted awake by the alarm. Her blue eyes searched Vann with an intensity unlike the other students.

There was no pity there. No fear. Only a deep, gnawing suspicion.

As Vann walked past her, Freya whispered so softly it was barely a breath, yet sharp enough to make the hair on his neck stand up.

"That smoke... it smells exactly like the wound in my dream."

Vann froze for a split second, but he didn't dare look back. He kept walking behind the knights. His heart hammered against his ribs—this time not out of fear of Mordred, but because of Freya's words.

A dream? Did she remember something too? Or were her hero instincts so potent they could transcend time itself?

Vann realized his plan for a quiet "retirement" had just gone up in smoke—literally. Destroying those books was supposed to erase his past, but it seemed he had only succeeded in drawing the eyes of the very people he wanted to avoid.

That night, in the silence of the infirmary, Vann lay staring at the ceiling. On the back of his hand, the symbol of the magic circle he had absorbed earlier began to burn with heat. He realized he had made a critical miscalculation.

He hadn't burned the power away. He had merely transferred it from the page into his blood.

"Being a good person is far more exhausting than destroying a kingdom," he whispered into the darkness, while outside, the shadows of destiny began to lengthen, ready to pull him back onto the path he tried to leave behind.