The Villain's Second Time

Chapter 18

The Demon Realm operates on the survival of the fittest.

Strong demons possess everything, while weak demons are endlessly exploited by the strong—even their lives.

At first glance, it might seem like an ideal society where everything is determined by individual ability, but in reality, it’s not a particularly good system.

The strong are few, and the weak are many. Most lower-class demons residing in the Demon Realm spend their entire lives without finding a mate.

Conversely, high-ranking demons like my father monopolize multiple females. The strong enjoy polygamy, while weaker demons might never mate even once before they die.

From birth, I was in a position of strength. Not because I was powerful, but because of the prominent name of 'Lucifer,' the Northern Grand Duke’s household.

However, that only applies when looking at the Demon Realm as a whole. Within the Northern Grand Duke’s household, I am considered weak.

This is because the competition for the position of family head is extremely fierce. The fact that my father, the current head, hasn’t clearly designated a successor only adds fuel to the fire.

There are four of us siblings: the eldest sister, Adela, followed by the eldest brother, Leonard, and then me.

As I mentioned earlier, the Demon Realm operates on the survival of the fittest. Naturally, the position of family head should go to the strongest.

The problem is that the strongest person happens to be Adela, a woman. From the start, she’s the only one over a thousand years old, so how could my elder brother, Leonard, or I possibly surpass her?

Originally, there was no need for a successor in the Northern Grand Duke’s household because my father, an absolute powerhouse, reigned as the head. His magical power was so overwhelming that he didn’t even need heirs.

That’s why he only had Adela and didn’t bother to have more children.

However, the curse of aging eventually caught up with my father, who had ruled for far too long. Though it’s questionable to call it aging when he’s lived nearly five hundred years after claiming he’d die soon, he suddenly summoned female demons and had three more children. That’s how the eldest brother, Leonard, and I, both nine years old, and the twenty-year-old eldest brother were born.

And among the three of us potential successors, I am the weakest.

As a child, I thought it was simply because I lacked the innate ability to handle magical power.

Who would have guessed that the reason lay in the food my aunt prepared for me?

Clink.

I stabbed the meat with a fork and cut it into bite-sized pieces with a knife.

As I placed the piece of meat in my mouth, the savory seasoning and the meat’s juices blended harmoniously, filling my mouth.

Who would have thought that within this delectable paradise lay a peculiar poison that blocked magical power?

They say the worst thing in the world is tampering with food, yet my aunt has been doing just that for over ten years.

She attempted to eliminate a competitor to secure the position of family head for her son. Both my eldest and second eldest brothers knew about it and even went along with it.

As a result, I spent most of my childhood and adolescence cut off from magical power. While it wasn’t the worst strategy, it wasn’t great either.

Ultimately, their plan ended in utter failure. Both my eldest and second eldest brothers were brutally killed during a demon beast subjugation in the Demon Beast Forest. From that moment, the shackles on me were lifted, and my talent for handling magical power began to bloom as if in full flower.

Looking back now, it’s truly a lamentable situation.

That I couldn’t personally kill the ones who targeted me.

In this lifetime, I will never make such a mistake again.

"Slurp, slurp...."

"Oscar, you shouldn’t make slurping noises while eating."

Adela spoke softly as I fervently tore into and chewed the turkey meat. As expected, the principled one remains principled.

Still, I don’t dislike Adela. While I’m not particularly fond of rigid people, Adela has a sense of conviction. She doesn’t commit the hypocrisy of double standards, the greatest flaw of principled individuals.

"Ah, my apologies. Aunt’s cooking is so delicious that I couldn’t help myself."

"Is it that good?"

"Aunt’s cooking skills are the best in the Demon Realm. Especially when it comes to turkey, she’s the best in the world."

"I didn’t know she was that good at cooking turkey. Let me try some."

Adela extended her fork with an expectant expression. Just as her sharp fork was about to touch the tender meat on my plate—

"Wait! Adela!"

My aunt suddenly stood up and urgently stopped Adela. Beads of cold sweat dotted her forehead.

Ha, this is amusing. Watching my aunt break into a cold sweat is quite satisfying.

"Eat mine instead."

"No, how could I take food from an elder...."

"And yet, it wouldn’t be right to take the youngest’s food, would it?"

Adela waved her hand in refusal, but my aunt stubbornly tore off a piece of her turkey and handed it to Adela.

It had to be that way. No matter how much the Demon Realm operates on survival of the fittest, even my aunt couldn’t confess to Adela, a strict principled individual, that she had poisoned the food to target her eight-year-old nephew.

One might question why she would take such a risk during a family meal, but my aunt had no other choice.

From a young age, I was extremely cautious and never ate food given to me by others.

The only opportunity my aunt had to target me was during family meals.

"Hmm... if you insist...."

Reluctantly, Adela took a bite of the turkey my aunt offered.

She tilted her head, as if wondering, ‘Is this really worth all the fuss?’

"Heh heh."

"Why are you laughing so frivolously?"

"The situation is just so amusing."

"...You must have hit your head...."

Adela had been harboring a strange misunderstanding since earlier. My head is perfectly fine, so why does she keep treating me like an invalid?

"Just let it go, sister. The youngest is always a bit uncouth, isn’t he?"

I was about to firmly deny ever having hit my head when a burly demon sitting across from me interrupted.

My eldest brother, Retavis.

Retavis, Leonard, and I—think of us as three half-brothers.

"There’s too much chatter during the meal. Focus on eating."

"Yes, I’ll restrain myself."

"Apologies, Eldest Aunt."

When the eldest aunt seated at the head of the table spoke softly, Adela and Retavis promptly apologized and resumed eating.

Clink.

On the surface, it looked like an ordinary meal. We appeared to be a harmonious and loving family.

But don’t be fooled. Except for Adela and my mother, everyone else’s hearts are pitch black.

Even now, they’re probably holding their breath, watching to see if I swallow my food properly.

They’ve made a grave mistake.

Letting familial ties cloud their judgment and failing to kill their enemy.

Even if you cut off my arms and legs, I can still bite and tear with my teeth to resolve the situation.

However, as someone who has returned, I plan to reattach even those severed limbs.

"Heh heh."

"Oscar."

"Ah, I can't control my laughter. Heh heh."

I'm thrilled.

The thought of carrying out the revenge I failed to achieve in my past life fills me with joy.

I already look forward to that day. Imagining how my actions will shape the future, and how I will crush them as soon as I extract information from the Southern Grand Duke, keeps playing in my mind.

Ah, this habit of laughing doesn’t fade even as I grow younger.

Still, I need to restrain myself for now. Adela's gaze, filled with worry and concern, is growing more intense.

Chomp—.

To suppress the sneer that keeps escaping, I stuff my mouth with soup, sandwiches, rye bread, and other foods. The sweet flavors, spicy aromas, and chewy textures fill my mouth completely.

I've been consuming this poison all along, so eating a bit more now won't make a difference.

Above all, it’s incomparable to the miserable rations I endured for 111 days in Tartarus.

Yes! This is what food should taste like!

Who cares if it’s laced with poison? It’s delicious!

Even after exacting my revenge on Retavis and Leonard, I must never kill my precious aunt. She must continue to cook for me for a long time, until her last breath.

*****

"Oh Lord, my great and noble patron."

"Saint, are you praying again?"

"The fact that you, who have always guided me, have placed me in such a dark place must mean..."

"Hey, I told you already, it wasn’t the Lord who locked you up here, it was the Demon King. Why do you keep confusing the Demon King with the Lord?"

"It must be a task given to me to find my own path."

"If you ask me, it seems more like they just want you to quietly lose your head... Ugh, what’s the point of talking to the Saint."

The Saint stood as a figure of an ideal.

An ideal pursued and revered by those who sought goodness. The Saint was a person who seemed crafted from that very ideal.

"Does Tartarus feel dark to you, Joker?"

"Yeah, very."

"Indeed. Tartarus is an abyss filled with darkness."

She was, in a way, deeply thoughtful. The Saint was such a person.

"That’s because you see it with your physical eyes. In a place where no light penetrates, it’s only natural for it to appear dark to the physical eye."

"Still, it’s a bit brighter since you arrived, Saint."

"However, if you close your eyes and look with the eyes of your heart, it’s a little different. Warmth and comfort, even the love that clings like stone flowers in this wretched prison, only come into view when you close your eyes."

"Hmm... I don’t really get what you just said."

"I, this foolish servant of the Lord, only realized how to see the world after losing my physical sight."

Not a single word or action of hers was ever wasted.

"Isn’t that just you seeing things however you want? Like, interpreting everything the way you feel like?"

"If you put it that way, then yes, I suppose so."

"What the heck."

"But that is the path I walk. In the pitch-black darkness, I found my way and intend to carve it out."

Whether facing the Hero, the Demon King, the traitor Vincent, or the Duke of the West Lilith, she always considered the consequences.

It wasn’t simply a matter of being extraordinary. The Saint could pierce through anything she observed, comprehending the world with that small head of hers.

Even though she couldn’t see a thing, that is.

"No matter what obstacle you face, never forget."

"Forget what?"

"To find and walk your own path, Joker. It is not the Lord but humans who live life. Of course, you are a demon, but still."

"Isn’t that blasphemy? Saying something like that—ignoring the Lord and living however you want?"

"The Lord shows us many ways, but never confirms that any one path is the only correct one. It is up to us to judge, act, and take responsibility."

During our time together in Tartarus, the Saint often spoke in riddles.

Back then, I didn’t think much of it and let her words pass.

But now, in the current situation, for some reason, her words come back to me.

I now stand at a crossroads.

Hundreds, thousands, tens of thousands of futures stretch out before me. I am not omnipotent, but knowing the future makes me omniscient, and I can succeed in this life where I failed in the last.

There are many futures.

My ultimate ideal, as in my previous life, remains chaos and madness.

But this time, I want to add a slightly different seasoning.

Light.

Or perhaps, love.

I believed that even evil should have dignity.

Now, I will mix love into it.

Evil imbued with love—how novel is that? It’s truly an intriguing goal.

Some may dismiss it as the ramblings of a madman, but dreams are meant to be grand. Even if they seem a little absurd.

However, the things I mentioned earlier are all abstract concepts. A way of living, an attitude toward life, cannot be the ultimate goal. A plan may be absent, but a goal must exist.

Then, what should I set as my target?

Having turned back time, returning 500 years before my death, what should I aim for?

.......

It’s a foolish question.

Didn’t the Saint already tell me? To join the reading club at Eden Academy 500 years from now.

Didn’t I realize it on the guillotine? That I could never understand the love the Saint showed me on my own.

Five hundred years.

What to prepare and what to anticipate in the meantime is still uncertain.

That time, it passes faster than you think. I know because I’ve lived it once.

So, Saint.

It’s just 500 years. I’ll wait patiently.

Let’s meet soon.

I’m already looking forward to it.

"Hehe."

Brushing off my pants, I stood up. It’s about time to set off for the Southern Demon Realm.

First, I need to gather information about this strange phenomenon I just experienced. Information is more important and useful than anything else in the world.

Rustle-.

With that, I headed to the wardrobe, took off the clothes I had been wearing, and began changing into proper attire for going out.

Thud-.

As I removed my pants, I heard the sound of something solid hitting the floor.

Curious, I reached into the pocket of my pants, and my hand brushed against a hard, rectangular object.

No, it wasn’t exactly a rectangle.

"Huh?"

I let out a dumbfounded sound as I fiddled with it. The more I touched it, the clearer its shape became, and the realization sent me into shock.

Clatter-.

With trembling hands, I managed to grasp it and pull it out of my pocket. Then, I confirmed it with my eyes.

It was a rather familiar object.

I had seen it countless times in Tartarus, so there was no way I wouldn’t recognize it.

A rectangular rod, with another rod horizontally attached to about half its length.

Twelve centimeters tall, seven centimeters wide, and a long chain of beads strung together to form its shape.

Light yet heavy, with sharp edges that jutted out, and a jet-black color symbolizing those who dwell in the shadows.

The object was none other than the Black Cross that the Saint always carried close to her heart.