Meanwhile, still floating peacefully, watching the struggle of the young Trickster was the Demon King.

The one who had lived countless lives.

The one who had suffered countless lives.

The one fated to suffer countless more.

And the one who wanted it all to end.

Ashavar's lips curved into a faint smile as he gazed thousands of kilometers below, his sight piercing through clouds and chaos as if the scene unfolded right before him.

He saw the cloak glow.

He saw the boy's desperate flight.

But he didn't care about any of that.

He didn't care how the boy had come to possess

one of the rarest artifacts in all existence.

You even have his cloak, huh?

The thought drifted through his mind.

Well… you are his successor, after all.

The boy was someone the Demon King truly found amusing, enough to earn a place within the top hundred of his endless list.

It would be a lie to say he had never seen anyone like this before.

There had been countless others, warriors, dreamers and fools.

Some were amusing.

Some were broken.

Some both.

But what made this boy different… was his mind.

Ashavar had seen people with weak strength and strong minds. He had seen those with immense power but fragile hearts. He had met the rare few who possessed both and the countless who had neither.

But this boy… he wasn't any of them.

Or perhaps, he was all of them at once.

Ashavar couldn't peer into his thoughts but the way the boy acted, the chaos in every gesture and grin,

was enough to reveal what went inside him.

A storm.

A paradox of laughter and pain.

The kind of madness only someone like him could understand, someone who had lived too many lives and worn too many masks.

The boy, much like Ashavar, wore masks of his own.

But his… his were still in the making.

That made Ashavar wonder, how could someone who had barely lived a fraction of his lifetime

carry the same chaos, the same darkness behind the smile?

What kind of life had this boy lived to become like that?

Ashavar had only seen two others like him before.

One was the Trickster and the other… the only person he still remembered from his first life.

The life erased by the torrent of time.

He had long forgotten his own real name, his home and even his purpose but not that being.

The one who had dared to defy the heavens.

The one who had shown him kindness.

Perhaps that was the reason.

Perhaps that faint familiarity was why Ashavar found this boy so… amusing.

Ashavar turned, his gaze crossing over the realm he had built from nothing.

In his first reincarnation in this world, he had been born into a primal tribe—barbaric and hunted by both humans and dragons.

And yet, it was from that tribe he rose, lifting them from savagery into something that even dragons respected.

But even that victory left a dull ache in him.

His strength had always been the same, in that life and in this one. It never increased, a reminder of talent that could not grow and only repeat.

In every life, he began from nothing.

In every life, he ascended to the same ceiling.

And each time, he watched others—his students, friends and rivals—go beyond.

All of them crossed the line that he could not.

It felt like a curse, a quiet and invisible boundary drawn around his soul to keep him living.

Sometimes, he wished he wouldn't die.

To live a single life from beginning to end.

But fate denied even that.

No matter how great his power, no matter how long his supposed lifespan, he could never live past a hundred and fifty years.

For someone at his rank, a being who should have easily endured millennia, it was nothing short of a joke.

Still, all Ashavar ever wanted was one life.

One fragile and finite life… a life where death could be feared and not chased.

A life that could end in peace.

That didn't mean he was weak.

He was the strongest among mortals and even among some of the beings who called themselves Demigods, many had once whispered his name with fear.

Across countless lives, he had worn countless forms.

A demon.

A dragon.

A human.

Each rebirth a different mask, each ending the same.

In all those lives, he had slain gods and for that, the world made his memory into legend—songs, scriptures and even epics.

Sometimes he was called a human who defied limits and sometimes someone who slayed dragons.

He was the first Dragon Slayer this world had seen back in his third life when he was a human.

But what the world called glory was his punishment.

He didn't even know what crime he was paying for…

and at this point, he was far too tired to find out.

Revenge? Meaning? Redemption?

Those had long lost their flavor.

Now, he wanted only to fade quietly before he forgot even the simple truth that he had once been loved.

Even when the names, the faces and the warmth of those who loved him had already slipped from his grasp.

He looked back at the young Trickster, his eyes carrying the weight he had hidden for so long.

I hope you can break the cycle of my suffering, Rael.

He knew the boy was far too weak, a fragile spark trying to shine in a world that was constantly devouring its own light.

But if what the Trickster had said was true… then perhaps this boy could be the one to finally complete his wish.

And for someone drowning endlessly in the abyss of his own existence, even the smallest spark of hope was something he would grasp with all his strength.

Still, he had no intention to help the boy in any way because the Trickster had clearly warned against messing too much with the boy's fate.

Ashavar tilted his gaze upward, toward the endless and silent sky.

He could feel it… the threads of reality were shifting slowly but surely.

THEY were waking up slowly.

The ones who had slept for eons.

The ones who stirred only when worlds began to end.

And perhaps… this world's end was drawing near as well.

It wasn't new to him.

He had watched countless worlds rise and fall.

But this time, he hoped for one simple thing, that the boy would grow strong before the end arrived…. Strong enough to kill him and grant him the peace he had been denied.

As for what happens with the world afterwards, it would be something for the residents to deal with.

With that thought, he turned or at least, he tried to but before he could move, he felt it.

A vast presence as if announcing itself moving toward him from millions of kilometers away, crossing the distance between them in a matter of seconds.

And then, it was there behind him.

Ashavar's lips curved into a faint, knowing smile looking at the new visitor.

"That's not how I expected to meet you again…Escanor."

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