Chapter 1
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For a time beyond memory, the Absolute Being reigned supreme.
In the beginning, there was only light, darkness, and the World Tree—the source of all magic, all origin.
From its sacred core, he drew power enough to split light from shadow, balance from chaos.
From light, he forged the Rulers—beings meant to protect the world.
From darkness, he carved out the Monarchs—creatures of ruin, destruction incarnate.
And so the stage was set. A world doomed to an eternal war—light versus darkness, creation versus uncreation.
A millennia passed. Then another. And another still.
The Absolute Being watched, bored beyond belief. His creations did precisely what they were designed to do—protect, destroy, repeat. A predictable symphony, looping endlessly.
Even the Rulers, perfect and proud, had grown dangerously powerful. He suspected rebellion. He expected it.
So, in his divine ennui, he sought something new. And in that void, he found... me.
Just a soul. A stray fragment from a distant realm, orbiting the World Tree like ash on wind.
"A mortal soul... how amusing," he murmured.
And from that fleeting curiosity, he sculpted a new vessel. Drawing essence from his greatest creations—Ashborn, the Brilliant Light, and Antares, the Monarch of Destruction.
He formed me with care. Then tossed me into the abyss with a chuckle—ugly smile.
A gift, he called it.
A joke, more likely.
Amidst the churning rift between worlds, he found me—Antares, the Dragon King, the Monarch of Destruction.
"My King," one of his generals whispered, "forgive me, but... who is this child?"
And the Monarch, red-haired and wrathful, beheld me from his obsidian throne.
Antares laughed. A thunderous, primal sound.
He lifted me into the air, so the legions of dragons might see.
"HE IS MY SON! AIDEN! FROM THIS DAY FORTH, HE IS THE HEIR TO DESTRUCTION!"
"LONG LIVE THE PRINCE!
"LONG LIVE THE PRINCE!"
And there I stood—reborn, silent, and absolutely screwed—as dragons roared above, vomiting fire into the sky.
This… this was not good... at all.
I just wanted to be an artist, damn it. Paint some canvases, sip cheap coffee, maybe cry over sunsets. Not this dragon-blasted apocalypse crap!
What were my choices? Let Antares devour me out of boredom?
"Hahaha! That son of a bitch who created me also made you, boy— you just like the angels and dragons."
"Is… that supposed to be good?"
"OF COURSE, SON! NOW, OFF TO YOUR FIRST WAR!"
I remember that scene from The Boys, when Homelander pushed his kid off the roof to see if he could fly.
Yeah, I got worse.
"Uh… d-dad? You want me to kill them?"
I was pointing at a pack of monsters sharpening weapons, clenching their asses, and roaring battle chants in weird languages.
Fuck the Absolute Being. I know he's watching. I feel his ugly grin above the clouds.
"OF COURSE! COME, BOY—LET THIS BE A MEMORABLE FAMILY BONDING! CHOOSE YOUR WEAPON!—No, too soon—RIGHT! YOU'RE A DRAGON. GIVE THEM HELL!"
That was my new father.
And that was how I got drafted into a real war before I even understood how to summon a fire breath.
No lullabies. No childhood. No gentle hands to guide my shit.
I skipped teething and training wheels—went straight to becoming a weapon of mass destruction.
This is what happens when you let a war god raise a child without a mother.
I was terrified. Of course I was.
But fear was a luxury I couldn't afford.
So I adapted. Quickly. Brutally. Completely.
Time passed.
How long has it been? I couldn't tell.
Centuries? Millennia? Just pain, smoke, and blood.
I trained under Antares himself. Learned how to fight, or to fly as dragons do.
I was half-angel, half-dragon, and wholly cursed.
We fought the Rulers—angelic beings sent from the sky to erase us.
Every day was a bloodbath.
Every victory, temporary.
Every betrayal, inevitable.
I survived. Somehow.
But at what cost?
I grew up amidst war cries and dragon stench. God, they stink. Even after centuries, I never got used to it.
This wasn't the reincarnation I wanted. Where's my cute little sister? My clingy childhood friend? My seductive, overworked MILF neighbor? WHERE IS MY HAREM?
Instead of all that, I got big ants, demons, ice elves, giants, and smelly lizard bastards, and female orcs trying to fuck me, literally.
No peace. No romance. Just war.
I fought. I killed. I endured.
"Damn, I miss my humanity."
And when the final war ended, it was my blade that silenced the last scream.
Now, I sit amidst corpses, still armored.
I shape angels from their blood—watching the portal above me about to open at any moment.
"This was supposed to be Sister Leveling, damn it! FUCK YOU, JINWOO! It should've been me!"
Footsteps behind me. I glance back.
A soldier in crimson armor kneels.
"Your Highness."
I exhale. "What took you so long, Kamish?"
"Trouble on the way. But once again, you stand victorious."
"Where's my father?"
"The King is en route. But I suggest you fall back. Open a portal—hide within the dimensional cracks before the Army of Light arrives."
"I don't care anymore. I'm not running. But I think you should."
Kamish smiles faintly. "How could I leave, when my future king fights to his last breath?"
"You're sentimental," I mutter, opening a gate behind him.
Before he can protest, I shove him through with the power of Ruler's Authority.
Then the sky splits.
The angels descend like rain—wings unfurled, blades gleaming.
I lie on my back, exhausted, watching them land.
When I was expecting them to start.
They kneel.
"What the fuck?"
"Let's end this war, at last... O' son of Antares."
"You're not going to kill me? That's your sole purpose."
In my current state.
They could erase me in a heartbeat.
But they don't.
"You are his favorite creation. Our master gave you the freedom to choose—unlike the rest of us. We wish for you to end this never-ending war so that the balance on the Monarchs' side crumbles."
"That's nonsense. You just want me to join your side so that Ashborn and I kill each other to the death. And where the hell was that loyalty? I killed your master. Hell, we all did. But you all saw me drive my sword into his chest."
"We hold no resentment. There was no other choice—our master was part of this madness. He created us to keep the peace, but we saw that he had become part of the problem. We beg you, Aiden. We could stop this war together… or we ask that you remain neutral."
I chuckled. "Neutral faction, huh? That'll be hard—because I can't just stand by and watch my people die at your hands."
"Then we offer you another path. The Cup of Reincarnation awaits—if you wish to be reborn."
That's interesting. If I were gone, Father would never move—unless I was by his side.
"The Cup..." The same tool the Absolute Being used to reset the board when he didn't like the outcome—a restart button.
I laugh. Dry. Bitter.
"What a waste of a tool. But… fine. Do it."
Anything's better than this.
They lift the cup. And as my soul begins to dissolve, I hear them whisper.
"May peace guide you in your next life, Aiden."
Yup, let's quit being the son of Dragon Monarch.