His father slapped him hard, and he cried. His father cried too.
Amidst their tears, they made a pact—if he could learn the art of transformation before the age of twelve, he would be allowed to leave.
He has never worked any harder than he did back then.
I've never wanted to become stronger more than I did back then.
Finally, on his twelfth birthday, he successfully transformed.
His father held his hand and repeatedly told him not to reveal his true appearance in public. He agreed repeatedly and couldn't wait to go out.
And his father, after he passed away, finally closed his eyes...
That was the first time he saw the outside world, and the first time he saw what humans looked like.
Perhaps out of curiosity, or perhaps due to his lack of skill in magic, he couldn't maintain the form for long, and soon revealed his demonic appearance...
"Ah! He...he...he's a demon!"
"What! It's a demon?"
"Everyone, come quick! There's a monster here!"
"Grab him! Don't let him get away!"
He sensed something was wrong with him and was about to check when his hands were grabbed...
They jostled each other and asked him:
"Speak! Who sent you? What's your plot?"
He stared with innocent eyes, not understanding what they meant by the 'conspiracy'.
They didn't care whether he knew or not; they not only punched and kicked him, but also hung him up and whipped him with a finger-thick iron chain.
"Kill him!"
"Who told him to come here? Kill this monster!"
"Kill him! Kill him!"
...
He was on his deathbed, and even in his dying moments, he couldn't understand why those humans hated him so deeply.
Little did they know that this was a conflict that had been going on for many years.
And he became the target of their venting, and the fuse that ignited the war...
Just as he was about to close his eyes, someone appeared.
He didn't know what he said to those people, he only knew that they took him away when he was barely clinging to life.
When he woke up again, he found that he had turned into a human.
When he went outside, he learned that they had already started a war...
Internal conflicts and disagreements soon gave rise to a reason to go to war.
Demons and humans, the differences between North and South, and long-standing conflicts of interest finally became the spark that ignited war—the War of the Ancients.
No war is without bloodshed.
That great battle was a bloodbath, with rivers of blood and corpses strewn across the fields.
The ground was littered with corpses and still-wet blood.
He stepped into the pool of blood, one step after another, slowly and heavily.
He searched everywhere for that person, but could not find him.
Just as he continued walking forward, he was suddenly attacked from behind by a demon, who revealed himself to be a demon as well.
The demon who attacked him was taken aback, seemingly not expecting that he was of the same kind as him.
Meanwhile, someone with sharp eyes recognized their monstrous appearance and roared as they charged towards them...
He was stunned and forgot to move aside.
What are you staring at?
The demon who had attacked him earlier grabbed him and scolded him.
Why are you fighting?
He didn't understand why it had to be all fighting and killing, why they couldn't live together peacefully...
The demon gave him a disappointed look and said:
"We demons and humans are destined to be unable to coexist. Only war can break this deadlock. It is a world where the strong prey on the weak, and the mighty reign supreme!"
After saying that, he ignored him and went forward to begin a fierce battle.
He looked around hesitantly.
At this moment, he seemed to be isolated from the world.
He couldn't hear the sounds around him, nor could he see their things clearly. He looked down at his blood-stained hands, his eyes flashing crimson.
"Smack."
A warm hand grasped his wrist, causing the redness in his eyes to fade slightly.
He looked up and saw the human who had saved him.
"Get up."
He heard that person's gentle voice calling to him.
He looked at him with a puzzled expression, not understanding what he was going to do.
The man spoke again in a low voice:
"Come on, I'll take you home."
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