Anos Voldigod—a name that echoed across realms, whispered in fear and awe. His legend was that of a man whose power defied imagination, reducing armies to ash with a single gesture. His strength was a force of nature, his ruthlessness an unrelenting storm.

Those who survived his wrath spoke of a being more terrifying than death itself. Yet, behind this godlike facade lay a secret that no one suspected: Anos was utterly, unapologetically lazy.

Born in the demon realm, where strength and bloodline purity defined worth, Anos had glided through life on the unparalleled might of his lineage. His bloodline was the purest in the demon realm’s history, and his power made challenges nonexistent.

While others trained tirelessly, Anos succeeded effortlessly. Battles bored him, and victory felt more like a routine than triumph. For all his power, he yearned for something that no amount of strength could bring—excitement.

His boredom persisted until his enrollment at Originveil Academy. At first, Anos dismissed the institution as just another stage for his superiority. But Originveil was unlike anything he had encountered. It was a crucible of hidden talents and unexpected brilliance, where students from across the realms converged. For the first time in his life, Anos felt a spark of exhilaration.

The academy was chaos incarnate—a battlefield of ambitions clashing and raw potential igniting. Here, Anos found rivals who could make him sweat, even if just for a fleeting moment. Every duel brought a rush, every near-death encounter a reminder that he was alive.

For the first time, his victories tasted sweet, not because they were easy but because they were earned. Those years were the pinnacle of his existence. He fought, killed, lost, and survived. Most importantly, he felt.

But all things, no matter how thrilling, must end. The academy days faded into memory, leaving Anos yearning for the life he had briefly tasted. He sought out his former rivals, hoping to reignite the flames of competition. Instead, he found them shackled by responsibilities, dulled by time. Their once-burning spirits had given way to the weight of duty.

Angered and disillusioned, Anos lashed out, slaughtering their families and friends in an attempt to rekindle his lost excitement. The satisfaction was fleeting, and boredom soon returned.

In desperation, he turned to the throne. Anos slew his father and claimed the demon empire, hoping the intricacies of rule would offer a challenge. But politics proved to be an even duller arena. The endless scheming and bureaucracy left him yearning for the simplicity of blood and battle. Frustrated, Anos made another attempt to fill the void—he created a family.

His wives adored him, and the act of building a legacy, at first, offered a semblance of purpose.

He found pleasure in their company and a strange sense of peace in fatherhood. His thirst for violence dulled, replaced by the mundane rhythms of family life. It wasn’t thrilling, but it was calming—a lull he chose to embrace.

Yet, this peace was short-lived. Beneath the surface, his children harbored resentments born from neglect. Raised in the shadow of a godlike father, they grew bitter, their hearts poisoned by whispers from scheming nobles.

“Father! Die!”

But again, as if the world was dissatisfied with how he was living, Anos’s world shattered as his children turned on him, their hatred a reflection of his failures. They had already slaughtered one another in their quest for supremacy, and now they came for him.

Betrayal burned through his veins, and in a storm of rage and sorrow, he annihilated them all. By the time the bloodbath ended, the demon lord stood alone amidst the corpses of his children, his wives, and the schemers who had fueled their rebellion.

As his gaze fell upon his reflection in the blood pooling at his feet, he saw a sight that made him pause. His lips curled into a grin, his eyes alight with unholy glee. His body was drenched in blood—his family’s blood—and yet, he felt no regret, only exhilaration. A dark realization took root. ‘I look good covered in the blood of someone close to me.’

For the first time in years, he felt alive. The thrill of betrayal and carnage reignited something within him. ‘I need more children,’ he thought, only to remember that he had slain all his wives. A hollow pang stirred in his chest. He seemed to have really grown fond of his wives—perhaps that was the reason for this.

But as he recalled how all of them, instead of standing by his side, took the side of their children—something replaceable and easy to make as long as he was alive—their eyes filled with hate, he realized that they were never on his side.

That, however, wasn’t uncalled for; after all, he had killed their parents and forced himself upon them. Yes, he later came to care for them, but before, there was nothing like that.

‘I guess grudges are higher than love,’ he thought as he recalled all that, but he dismissed it soon as well. ‘I can always find new ones.’

Thus began the era of his second family—a new generation of children, raised under the weight of their predecessors’ bloody legacy, in a family without love. Anos didn’t care about his wives anymore—they were just trophies this time.

It was so that he wouldn’t feel betrayed this time. All he did was watch his children grow, waiting for the day they would rise to challenge him. But the wait was tiresome. Watching from afar offered no thrill. Seeking a distraction, he relocated to Originveil City, hoping to keep a closer eye on their development.

Yet even this life grew dull. His children were not yet strong enough to entertain him, and the world around him offered no worthy opponents. Minor amusements came and went, but none could replicate the rush he craved.

One day, as he lay in his mansion, indulging in a maid’s services, a ripple of foreign mana disturbed his solitude. Intrigued, Anos focused his senses. The intruder was none other than Alex Drakathor, the talk of the city. Mildly curious, Anos decided to test Alex’s patience, continuing his indulgence for several minutes before descending to meet his guest.

“You’ve grown, Vanessa’s son,” Anos greeted, his tone laced with mockery. He watched Alex closely, hoping to provoke a reaction, but the young man remained composed. Disappointed, Anos clicked his tongue in irritation. ‘Here I was thinking of how Vanessa would react if I beat you up a bit for offending me.’

The conversation continued with little fanfare until Alex’s next words shattered the monotony.

“I’ve come to ask for your daughter.”

The words hung in the air like a spark in a powder keg. Anos’s body tensed, his fists clenching as a dangerous smile spread across his face. His dark eyes gleamed with newfound interest.

“Well,” he chuckled, his voice low and menacing. “This just got interesting.”

For the first time in what felt like ages, excitement coursed through his veins. He leaned forward, his gaze piercing through Alex as dark thoughts began to take shape.

Perhaps now he could provoke Vanessa into a battle worth remembering. Or perhaps, this boy could offer something entirely unexpected. Either way, the game was afoot, and Anos was ready to play.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep