A single cry rose in the darkness.
It was thin and hoarse, carrying no warmth or fear. Only existence.
Beneath the roots of a fallen tree, a newborn child lay on the damp earth. He was small, no larger than a sack of grain, wrapped in filthy cloth that smelled of old blood and decay. His skin was pale. His chest rose and fell in slow, steady breaths.
For a long moment, he did not move. His eyes were closed. The wind slid over his fragile body without stirring him.
Then his eyelids lifted.
Pale gray irises stared up at the black canopy. They did not blink or tremble. There was no confusion in them. No fear or wonder. Only a cold stillness.
The child looked like any other abandoned infant. But inside his mind, memories were blooming like rot.
He remembered cities burning under his hand. He remembered screams echoing in marble halls. He remembered the taste of power, rich and endless, flooding his body as kingdoms collapsed.
He remembered his own death.
He remembered the darkness that came after.
And he remembered the truth:
He had returned.
A slow breath slid between his lips. His tiny hand lifted from the dirt, as if testing whether it was real. The skin was thin and pale, almost translucent. On the palm, a mark had appeared—a symbol carved in perfect black lines.
It was shaped like a pair of insect wings folded over a hollow circle.
The Symbol of Dominion.
When he saw it, something inside him shifted, like an old door unlocking.
> > [Sovereign Devouring System – Initialization Complete.]
[Host Identified: Seo Hae-jin.]
[Unique Trait Detected: Absolute Villainous Intent.]
[System Privileges Restored.]
A voice spoke inside his mind. It was calm and hollow, without emotion.
He closed his eyes as the cold information spread through his thoughts. The system had survived, even though his body had perished. It had clung to his soul, waiting to awaken again.
A lesser man might have wept in relief or rage. But he felt nothing.
Emotions were useless burdens.
He drew in another quiet breath. The air smelled of rotting leaves and wet earth.
> > [Summon Function Activated.]
[Available Biomass: 10 Units.]
[Initiate Hatch Sequence?]
His voice was soft, but it carried through the stillness.
"Yes."
The ground beside him began to bulge. The damp soil split open with a low crack. From the darkness, ten black spheres rose into the air. Each was the size of a clenched fist, smooth and shiny like polished stone.
They hovered for an instant, then sank slowly to the ground.
Cracks spread across their surfaces. Tiny fractures splintered outward until each egg burst apart.
A chorus of faint, wet sounds filled the hollow beneath the tree.
Ten creatures uncurled themselves.
They were only larvae—small, shapeless things with slick black skin. Each one was about the length of a man's finger. They had no eyes, no mouths that could form cries, no limbs that could reach for comfort.
But they were alive.
Their bodies trembled as they sensed the world.
Their hunger was a single, pure thing, sharp as any blade.
The child watched them crawl across the soil. Their tiny mouths opened and closed in silence. For a moment, he studied them with flat, unblinking eyes.
Then he spoke again, his tone unchanged.
"Feed."
The larvae froze. As one, they turned toward him. The Symbol of Dominion pulsed once, sending a ripple of cold authority through the darkness.
> > [Ten Larva Units Hatched.]
[Loyalty: Absolute.]
[Directive Imprinted: Devour.]
The newborn creatures scattered into the shadows, vanishing into the roots and leaves.
Far above, the first light of dawn was gathering behind the mountains. It would not matter.
He had returned to a world that believed it was safe, that believed its heroes would always rise in time.
But he knew the truth.
Life was weak. It was soft. It was always waiting to be consumed by something colder.
He looked down at the Symbol on his palm.
Through it, he felt the faint impressions of his children—cold shapes moving across the forest floor, searching for flesh to devour.
Soon, they would grow.
Soon, they would become more than simple larvae.
And when they did, nothing in this world would be enough to stop them.
Seo Hae-jin did not smile.
He simpl
y closed his eyes, listening to the quiet rustle of his servants in the dark, and waited for the first cries to begin.