It’s been five years.
Five years of torture.
Five years of pain.
Five years of hope lost.
Five years of hatred.
Five years of sorrow.
Five years of hunger.
Five years of eating leftovers... and vomit.
Daniel had broken down within these five years.
He was given food only once a week, and due to the starvation gnawing at his core, he would devour it without hesitation—only to realize, too late, that it was vomit they had served him.
He vomited for three days and nights, nearly spewing out his own intestines. For a whole month, he couldn’t stomach any food. His body scread for nourishnt, but his soul no longer hungered.
They didn’t stop.
They kept feeding him vomit. And if he refused to eat it—they forced it down his throat.
There were tis... too many tis... Daniel thought of ending it all.
But what held his shattered soul together wasn’t hope.
It was hatred.
And revenge.
If Daniel could get his revenge—then and only then, he would be ready to welco death.
He had waited five long years for a cheat to arrive. A system. A voice. A sign.
But reality gave him silence.
No system awakened. No mysterious gift appeared. And Daniel understood—
If fate would not change for him, then he would change it himself.
In these five years, Daniel had carefully mapped out his escape.
They never suspected him—after all, who would expect a five-year-old trash to possess the mind of a grown strategist?
They believed since his talent was trash, his brain must be trash too.
They were wrong.
Daniel’s plan was precise. He stole the prison key from a careless guard.
It was the perfect night—celebration filled the air. The young mistress of the family had just turned ten, and the estate was swept up in a grand festival. Guests flooded the halls. Security waned.
That night... Daniel disappeared.
The next day, when the noise died down, dread filled the hearts of the guards who discovered the open, empty cell.
They ran to report to their master, and his fury was unrelenting.
He ordered a full-scale search, warning them that failure would an death.
But Daniel didn’t stop.
He ran.
He didn’t look back—because looking back ant fear.
He ran, and ran, and ran.
Eventually, he reached sowhere he thought was safe.
But fate, cruel as ever, dealt another blow.
He was captured.
Enslaved.
Branded with the word "Slave."
He was starved. Abused. And eventually... sold.
To the Demon Clan.
The Demon Clan—enemies of all races.
They had conquered a fraction of the continent. Vampires, fiends, and dark creatures walked among them. For thousands of years, the other races had fought against their tide.
The Battle Gorge—the borderland between demons and the other races—was where they clashed endlessly.
Soaked with blood for centuries, the very earth bled red.
Daniel was sold to the Vampires.
He was livestock.
Treated like cattle.
His blood drained daily for their pleasure, their sport.
There were many others.
And any disobedience... was t with a whip.
But Daniel no longer felt pain.
If there was one thing he could thank that cursed family for—it was this:
After five years of tornt, his body had developed unnatural resilience.
His healing surpassed normal mortals.
His resistance to pain? Nearly absolute.
Daniel could no longer feel it.
But his hatred—
That still burned.
Burned hot and endless.
Burned to obliterate that family.
He endured another five years of unrelenting tornt in the Demon Clan—his blood extracted daily, treated as nothing more than a disposable slave.
Ten years had passed since Daniel entered this world—
Ten years of misfortune.
Ten years of cruelty.
Ten years... of surviving hell.
Then, a female vampire noticed him.
And everything changed.
She converted him into a Demon—not because of talent, for in the Demon Realm, it wasn’t about talent... but raw strength.
And from that mont, Daniel’s life didn’t change for the better.
It changed—for the worse.
Driven by his hatred... by revenge... his vampiric thirst surged like a storm.
He began to devour human blood without restraint.
And with every drop—his strength grew.
Steadily. Ruthlessly.
His influence began to swell like a dark tide within the Demon Realm.
He was thrown into the infamous Battle Gorge, the eternal warfront between demons and all other races.
Weak as he was, he survived every clash.
And with each battle—he grew stronger.
He earned battle points, he earned fear, and above all... he earned a na.
Ten more years passed.
Twenty years now, since Daniel had been reborn into this cruel world.
His na... had beco legend.
He was known as—
"The Butcher."
Hundreds of thousands had perished by his hands.
Yet his identity remained hidden—always masked, always silent.
Only one thing set him apart from other vampires—
Golden eyes.
Eyes that glead like molten suns.
Eyes that spoke of blood, fire, and vengeance.
Daniel now sat upon a grand chair, surrounded by respectful vampires—each one bowing in reverence.
He had slain the very vampire who once enslaved him.
He carved out his freedom through blood and fire.
And no... it wasn’t easy.
Twenty years.
Twenty years of witnessing death, betrayal, suffering...
And Daniel had co to understand one thing:
In a cultivation world, rcy was a blade to your own throat.
Now, with overwhelming power at his command, he stood at the pinnacle—
Supre Commander of the Demon Army.
But amidst all this power, one thing never changed—
The hatred.
The thirst for revenge.
It still burned in his soul... and it was the only thing that kept him moving forward.
"I’m coming back," Daniel muttered, coldly.
Then—he vanished from the Demon Camp.
Sowhere far away, in a prestigious estate...
A golden-haired, middle-aged man and a graceful woman were smiling joyfully.
Their daughter held a one-year-old child in her arms. Beside her stood her husband—Caleb.
It was a joyous day.
Their child had just turned three.
The air was filled with laughter and warmth.
Until—
They froze.
Their hearts nearly stopped.
An uninvited guest sat leisurely in their living room.
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