Kaelen sat silently, his gaze distant as he tried to make sense of the memories flooding his mind.
From what I've gathered from this body's remnants... I am now the third son of House Valemorth.
The previous owner of this body was immensely talented. Born to the main wife of the family head, he was once the pride of the estate, gifted with rare potential and given access to powerful resources. But jealousy brews easily within noble walls.
The family's first son—not born of the main wife—had slowly poisoned the boy over time, weakening him until he was left paralyzed and forgotten. And today... his soul quietly passed on, allowing Zerath Kael'thar, the fallen Demon God, to take his place.
Fate has handed me not only a second chance but also the pain of another soul. I will carry his vengeance alongside mine. Though these nobles may not yet be a threat... I must regain my strength.
Just then, a voice echoed behind him.
"Zerath Kael'thar... or should I say, Kaelen Valemorth."
He turned sharply.
A white cat sat perched on the windowsill, elegant and still—yet it bore three glowing eyes, one on its forehead. The other two shimmered a chilling light blue.
"You... you're the voice from the void," Kaelen whispered.
The cat blinked slowly.
"Tell me, Kaelen... how does it feel to be alive again? Will you punish those gods who destroyed you?"
Kaelen stared, still stunned. "Who are you? How do you know so much about me? And why... why is a cat speaking to me?"
The creature gave a slow, knowing grin.
"I am the one who brought you back. For now, that is all you need to know. In time, all will be revealed."
Before Kaelen could ask more, a servant's voice came from the hallway.
"Young master, the Lord has sent healing potions for you. They will help restore your body."
Kaelen accepted the vials silently. He thought for a moment.
From what I can tell, the family head—Darian Valemorth—is a good man. But duty has hardened him. The boy whose body I now possess... he was only ten years old when he died. There's so much I still don't know.
Later that afternoon, Kaelen wandered alone through the garden, quietly observing the estate and its inhabitants. He needed information—about this world, this time, and this family.
Across the training grounds, Cedric Valemorth, the first son, was making his way to sparring practice. At just thirteen, he already radiated arrogance. And when he spotted Kaelen, something in his gaze ignited—rage.
How is that bastard still alive?! Cedric thought furiously. As long as he's breathing, he's a thorn in my path.
Striding toward him, Cedric snarled.
"Hey, little bastard. What are you doing out here?"
Kaelen glanced at him, visibly irritated.
Why does this pattern always repeat, in every life?
Cedric's anger flared as Kaelen held his gaze without fear.
"I hate those eyes of yours," Cedric hissed. "They look just like your mother's... that filthy woman."
A flash of memory seared through Kaelen's mind. In his past life, the gods had slain his mother before his eyes. Now, in this one, someone insulted her again.
His eyes turned a deeper crimson. In a blink, he grabbed Cedric by the collar and slammed a punch into his jaw.
Cedric stumbled, clutching his face.
"Y-You bastard! How dare you hit me when I wasn't ready! I won't forget this!"
He fled, fuming with embarrassment.
Kaelen stood still, trembling. He looked down at his shaking hand.
This body is too weak... I can barely control it.
Meanwhile, Cedric stormed into his mother's chamber.
"Mother! He hit me! That cursed brat actually struck me!"
Lady Rovena, the second wife of the Patriarch, turned slowly, fury erupting across her face.
"That wretched woman dared to get in my way once... and now her vile son dares lay a hand on mine?! No more. I will destroy him, Cedric. He won't live to see the next moon."
Elsewhere, within the grand, dimly lit study of Lord Darian Valemorth, the atmosphere was thick with silence and command. The flickering firelight cast long shadows across the walls. His loyal butler Albern stood nearby as Lady Rovena entered, her demeanor sharp yet falsely sweet.
"My lord," she said, bowing slightly, "now that Kaelen has recovered, and both sons are present, perhaps it is time to discuss the next heir?"
Darian looked up slowly, his piercing eyes locking onto hers with unshakable authority.
"We still have no word from the second son," he said, his tone like steel wrapped in velvet. "His whereabouts and condition remain unknown. The matter of succession cannot proceed until all sons stand accounted for."
Rovena's smile faltered, but she recovered quickly.
"But, my lord, the Imperial Academy is accepting applicants this year. An admission letter has arrived for our house. Such an opportunity does not return twice."
Darian stood slowly, his towering presence sending an almost physical pressure through the room. His voice dropped, calm yet unyielding.
"You seem far too eager, Lady Rovena. But very well."
He turned to Albern.
"Inform the first and third sons: three days from now, the family will gather. The matter of the future Patriarch shall be decided then."
As Lady Rovena exited, her polite facade twisted into something darker.
Kaelen... you cursed child. I will see you crushed. I'll tear your destiny apart with my own hands.