The Reincarnation Chronicles of a Demon

“If you continue with your treatment, you should regain some movement,” the High Priest said cautiously. But he couldn’t hide the way my father’s face tightened. At the same time, I noticed Zetak’s eyes widen as he knelt nearby. Even though his hair partially covered his face, I could see that his expression had changed. His lips were slightly parted in shock as if he’d heard something completely unexpected. His gaze wavered, and for a moment I thought guilt washed over him. He bit his lip and quickly looked away, as if angry with himself for even feeling that way.

I understood why he reacted that way. He probably assumed I wouldn’t be able to use my arm for a while. Maybe he thought it wouldn’t be a big deal if I broke it a little—it would heal, and the priests would fix it anyway. Perhaps, deep down, he even wanted me to experience some of the pain he had gone through. If I had to suffer, why shouldn’t you feel it too? That might have been his way of thinking—a brief act of revenge, nothing more.

But the moment he felt guilt, I knew the future had changed. It wasn’t clear yet – too uncertain to be sure of anything – but there was no denying it: something had shifted. In the future I had once seen, he had killed me without a trace of remorse. As he shattered my legs and severed the tendons in my arms, he smiled. It wasn’t a smile of joy, but it was there, fixed on his face as he carried out those brutal acts.

“High Priest, let the trial begin. There is no need to hear a defense, as this thing cannot speak for itself.”

“No, I will speak on behalf of Zetak.”

“And what could you possibly say? It’s a fact that he rendered your arm useless.”

“But it wasn’t intentional. He was merely trying to catch me when I fell, but he misjudged his strength.”

I could feel Zetak’s eyes on me. Come to think of it, there had been a similar incident in the past, hadn’t there? I had stepped on a perfume bottle that he had broken, and I had claimed responsibility, saying that I was the one who had broken it. I don’t remember exactly, but if Zetak said it happened that way, then it must have happened.

“Do you expect me to believe that?” my father snapped. “Do you think I don’t know what state your arm was in? It wasn’t just broken – the bone was shattered. I’m told it was grabbed with such force that it was crushed under the grip of something.”

“To stop someone from falling, you’d have to grab them firmly. He wasn’t used to his body changing into that of a beast and misjudged his strength. When he realized what he’d done, he was shocked and cried.”

That wasn’t a lie. Zetak had always been a tearful child. Even if it had been five years ago, it was still the truth.

“If it had been intentional, would he have gone to get the priests? It was a mistake and he deeply regrets it. A period of house arrest should be sufficient punishment.”

“So be it, I will respect your wishes. Write me a petition with that pen in front of you. Right now. Do it and we’ll call off the trial. I’m sure the High Priest will agree with my decision.”

“…”

How petty the emperor could be. He had seen my crippled hand and still made such a demand.

“What are you waiting for? Go ahead, write it.”

“…”

“You can’t do it, can you? Of course not. Your words are lies, and you can’t bring yourself to make a false request in the sacred temple, can you?”

I had expected my father to go through with the ceremony without a second thought, but instead, he looked down at me with a blank expression.

“I know how difficult it is to manifest sword energy at your age. You must have worked yourself to the bone, and now, because of that, you’ll never be able to wield a sword again. And yet you still want to protect him?”

It seemed that my father was more concerned with my inability to wield a sword than my defense of Zetak. Even though my arm was damaged, it didn’t mean I couldn’t control my energy. Why was he so obsessed with the sword?

“If I manage to wield a sword again… will you spare his life?”

“I’m curious to hear what kind of absurdity you’re going to suggest. Even the high priest couldn’t heal that arm. What are you going to do?”

“If I cut off my arm and replace it with a beast’s limb, I believe it could regain its functionality.”

The life force of monsters is extraordinary. If I could get a fresh body part from a creature, transplanting it wasn’t entirely impossible – at least in theory. It seemed the most practical solution, so I spoke honestly.

But my words caused the high priests to murmur in alarm and step back. My father’s face flushed with anger and his lips quivered. My mother turned pale and covered her mouth with her hands.

“Do you want to become a Chimera? Do you dare to try your hand at dark magic? Do you wish to be burned at the stake?! How dare you speak such vile things in this holy place!”

“Was that not a possibility? You seemed so fixated on my arm that I thought you’d want me to regain its function by any means necessary.”

My father’s face contorted in frustration. I looked down at my almost numb right arm.

Staring at my ruined limb brought back memories of my previous body. Before I died, I had lost 91 of my 160 legs. Of the 12 tentacles I once had, only three remained, and one of them was nothing more than a useless decoration, paralyzed by nerve damage.

Some of those losses came from territorial battles, others from being devoured by stronger creatures. Losing parts of your body is just a part of life. Sure, it happens less often to humans than to monsters, but plenty of people have lost limbs in accidents, haven’t they? It’s not that uncommon.

Or maybe I’m indifferent to losing an arm because, in a previous life, I was a centipede? I had so many limbs then – maybe that’s why this loss feels insignificant.

“If I wanted to, I could easily give up an arm. So…”

“Jaibid! Stop it!”

My mother abruptly stood, cutting me off mid-sentence. Her face was etched with anguish and pity, but it wasn’t out of concern for her son. No, her distress wasn’t for me. It was for the failure of her plans—the despair of realizing that her hopes for my restoration through the manifestation of sword energy were falling apart before they even had a chance. She had intended to use that to push for my reinstatement, and now, all of it was crumbling away.

“Do not provoke His Majesty any further. I’ve heard that unsavory rumors are already circulating within the Academy. It’s only right that this filthy thing be dealt with through the ceremony now.

“But—”

“What are you waiting for, High Priest? Begin at once!”

The priests surrounded Zetak, who remained kneeling within the magical circle, his hands outstretched. As they called upon their holy power, a silver circle of magic began to materialize around him, shimmering with ominous intent.

As the circle at Zetak’s feet began to glow, he groaned and clenched his teeth against the pain. The records said that forcibly separating a monster’s fused parts from its body was like being torn apart alive, a torment comparable to death by dismemberment. Once the magic circle was fully activated, that groaning would turn into something far worse.

Quietly, I reached for the pen on the desk. It seemed that words no longer worked. I twirled the pen with my left hand and watched the magic circle form in the air. As it solidified, I finally saw the core at its center. I had tried to resolve this through diplomacy, but it was clear that wouldn’t be enough. There was no longer any need to hesitate.

With a firm grip on the spinning pin, I infused it with energy. More than the sword energy I had used to shatter Bapharos’ blade. Unlike channeling energy through a sword, unleashing it from a distance caused it to dissipate almost immediately. That’s why I needed a medium to keep the energy intact, and this little feather would serve that purpose well enough.

I didn’t need much – just enough to shatter the core of the magic circle. Quickly concentrating the energy, the red glow around the pen in my left hand intensified.

“W-What is that…?!”

One of the high priests gasped in horror as he realized the change in me. But before any of them could react, I threw the energy-laden pen right into the center of the magic circle. Although it looked like a simple flick of my wrist, the force behind it was far more than that. With the energy I had poured into it, the pen was no longer just a writing instrument – it was now as powerful as a magical missile.

The pen sliced through the air and embedded itself in the wall with a deafening crash. Although it seemed to have traveled through space, it had pierced the center of the magic circle perfectly. The circle shattered instantly, sending silver light scattering in all directions. As a result, the magic circle that had bound Zetak was also shattered, dissolving into nothingness.