The Second Life of Demon King

Episode 6: Rival from a Noble Family

The Lestoria family's garden glowed in the luxury of spring. Small lanterns swayed gently in the wind, while the aroma of lavender and camellia filled the air. The sound of children's laughter and the clinking of crystal glasses created the typical social orchestra of nobility. Amidst all this, Isaac Ackerman stood still like a small stone in the flow of a river.

He wore a small navy blue suit, his black hair neatly combed to the side. His eyes—round and innocent to those not paying close attention—swept over the crowd like a hunter disguised as a rabbit.

"Did you see the Duke Ackerman's child?" whispered a middle-aged woman behind a feather fan.

"The small and quiet one? Cute, yes. But... there's something a bit creepy about him."

Isaac overheard. A small smile spread across his face. "Cute and creepy. The ideal combination," he thought to himself before dramatically stumbling into the arms of a servant.

"Lord Isaac! Be careful, your little legs aren't strong yet!"

"Uwaaa..." Isaac's fake cry burst out immediately. The servant panicked, and the nobles smiled sympathetically.

"He is still a baby, isn't he?" a nobleman said while laughing.

However, the small steps of Edgar Vermillion stopped not far from there.

His red eyes narrowed.

"That... is fake," he muttered softly. He stared at Isaac as if trying to pierce the child's skin with his gaze alone.

With an air of arrogance, Edgar walked closer. His white coat with gold embroidery billowed behind him like lion wings.

"Your name is Isaac, right?" he asked coldly, hands folded behind his back. The other children fell silent. Even the servant who had been panicking took a step back.

Isaac stared at Edgar for a moment.

"Umm... I-saac?" he replied, intentionally speaking his name as if he were not fluent.

A small laugh came from a group of girls. But Edgar didn't laugh. His jaw tightened.

"I know your eyes aren't that innocent."

Isaac blinked. Then, he slowly approached—still holding his wooden bunny doll.

"This bunny's name is Mocha," he said lightly. "Mocha says... you're scary."

Some of the children held back their laughter.

Edgar's face turned red.

"The game starts now!" announced an adult noble, saving the atmosphere. "Children, let's go! First, a tower-building race!"

Isaac stepped back. "Alright, Mocha. Let's beat that angry little lion," he whispered to the doll.

---

The game began. Stones were arranged, puzzles distributed, and the mini arena was filled with laughter and shouts.

Edgar went first. His hands were quick, his gaze focused. In no time, his tower stood tall.

"Forty-two seconds!" cheered the referee.

The children applauded. Edgar turned, a small smile on his face. "Try to beat that," he said sarcastically to Isaac.

Isaac stepped forward slowly. He didn’t speak. He just sat down, then carefully touched the stones. His small hands moved with precision like a clockwork machine. One by one, the stones piled up, even taller than Edgar's tower.

Thirty-six seconds.

Gasping from the audience could be heard. Some of the adult nobles exchanged glances.

"Who said this kid was ordinary?" one murmured.

Edgar stood rigidly. His face tense. But Isaac simply stared at the tower, then knocked it down himself with a cheerful smile.

"Oopsie!" he cried out, pretending to tap his forehead. "Mocha... naughty!"

The children's laughter exploded. Even some of the servants couldn't hold back a smile.

"He... played with me?" Edgar gritted his teeth. "He knocked it down himself? Was that on purpose?"

In the corner of the garden, a noblewoman—Lady Cornelia Vermillion—watched Isaac closely.

"The Ackerman child... interesting. Too calm for his age."

---

While everyone cheered, Isaac sat beneath a cherry tree. The sunlight danced through the leaves, casting soft shadows on his face.

In silence, he wiped the sweat from his temple.

"Humans are too easily dazzled by illusions," he thought. "They don’t see what they don’t want to see."

Suddenly, Edgar approached and sat down uninvited. "You think I don't know what you're doing?"

Isaac turned, his head slightly tilted. "Umm... sit too, Mocha?"

"I’m not talking to the doll!" Edgar snapped.

"Mocha says you're jealous," Isaac replied casually.

Edgar leaned closer, his voice low. "I will defeat you. One day. And when that time comes... even Mocha won't be able to save you."

Isaac simply stared at him. For a moment, the red flash in Edgar’s eyes seemed to meet the darker shadow in Isaac's eyes.

But Isaac chuckled softly. "Mocha says... we’ll wait."

---

As the party came to an end, the sky began to redden. Isaac walked home with a servant, still holding his doll.

"Lord Isaac had a good time today?" the servant asked.

Isaac nodded. "A new friend. His name... Edgy."

"Edgar, you mean?"

Isaac winked. "Close enough."

The servant’s laughter erupted.

But deep inside, Isaac sighed. "He senses danger. Too fast. But... that makes everything more fun, doesn’t it?"

From the train window, he gazed at the evening sky. The pink and orange hues created a warm painting, but his mind was full of strategic calculations.

"The game has begun," he thought. "And this time, his opponent... is of noble blood."

Nights in the western regions of Eldoria are often embraced by a thin mist, with the biting cold wind that nips at the skin. From the window of the Ackerman children's room, the darkness of the night envelops the vast garden, filled with shadows of old trees and flowers that are beginning to wilt. A small child sits motionless in the corner of the room, looking like a doll lying on the bed. Isaac Ackerman was awake.

His small body, wrapped in a soft blue blanket, seemed still. If someone were to peek through the door, they would think he was peacefully asleep. But behind that calmness, there was a burning restlessness— a determination that concealed all the fatigue and pain.

Isaac watched his shadow cast by the moonlight. His innocent face, soft black hair flowing loosely, and eyes as sharp as a blade. "I will become stronger," he thought fiercely, whispering the words in his heart.

Carefully, he crawled out of the blanket, trying not to make a sound. The warm bedroom felt even more contrasting to the cold, damp air outside. He rolled up his blanket carefully, placing it back on the bed, and then stood with his small legs still shaky.

"This is still far from what I want," he muttered, standing tall even though his body trembled slightly. The pain had become part of his routine. His muscles weren't strong enough to fully support his body, but he had grown accustomed to the discomfort.

Isaac slowly walked to the corner of the room, toward a place hidden behind thick curtains covering the window. There, hidden, were items he had turned into training equipment: a small sandbag made of coarse cloth, several round stones used as weights, and a rope he used for body endurance training. Nothing special—just simple things that were easy to find, but for him, these were the first foundations of his rise.

He stared at the items for a moment. "I'll start here," he thought, picking up the first stone and squeezing it with his small hand. Isaac’s hand began to sweat, but he ignored it. With practiced movements, he started: squatting, standing, jumping, holding positions longer than before.

But the human body is not as strong as his former demon body. After only a few minutes, his knees began to tremble, and his breath became heavy. His body screamed for him to stop, but Isaac kept going. His eyes remained focused, even as pain enveloped every muscle in his body.

"I will not stop," he muttered fiercely. His right hand clenched, holding back the pain that was ravaging his body. "Strength doesn’t come easily."

Outside, the sound of wind rustling through the gaps in the walls grew louder. But Isaac didn’t care. In the silence of the night, he recalled every lesson he had learned from his past life—as Maximus Bloodthorn, the powerful Demon Overlord. He knew that only through sacrifice could the body and mind be forged into a greater power.

Sweat began to drip from his forehead, but he kept pushing. Each movement was heavier than the last, every second felt like an hour, yet he endured with ever-growing determination.

"My knees..." he thought, feeling the pain becoming more excruciating. "This... is harder than I thought."

A few times, he nearly fell, but with all the strength he had left, he steadied himself. As he jumped high, his body felt as if it was flying. "I can do this," he thought, even though his breath was ragged. He held his body in the air longer than before, and when his feet finally touched the ground, he felt a small sense of satisfaction.

However, the pain still remained. Every time he moved, his body rebelled. Though there were small improvements, Isaac knew that to truly reach his goal, he had to train more, harder, and with more patience.

Morning came slowly. As the first light of the sun touched the surface of the window glass, Isaac was already lying back on his bed, his body wrapped in a blanket. He held his breath for a moment, making sure everything appeared normal. The sweat that covered his body was hidden beneath his simple nightclothes.

Outside the room, the sound of footsteps from his father, Duke Reinhardt Ackerman, grew closer. Isaac heard it. His feet moved quickly, but his body remained still on the bed.

"Isaac?" His mother's soft voice, Lady Evelyn, called from the door. "Wake up, dear. It’s morning."

Isaac only nodded slowly. "Yes, Mother..."

But inside, another voice was louder. "I will keep training. No one can stop me."

For the next few weeks, Isaac continued to train diligently. Night after night, the pain became more intense, but progress also began to show. When he jumped, he could maintain his balance longer. When he ran, his breath started to feel more regulated. Though the pain was still there, he knew it was a sign that he was growing.

Isaac looked at himself in the mirror that morning. His face, which appeared young and innocent, was starting to harden slightly, like a gem that had just been polished.

"This is still far," he thought with determination. "But this is the first step."

Days passed, and though the outside world didn’t know, Isaac kept moving toward his goal—to awaken the power he once held, and to turn this body into an unmatched weapon.