The Second Life of Demon King

Episode 6: The Desire for Power

On that day, bright sunlight lit up the village park where Isaac and the other children were playing. They gathered around Isaac, as if awaiting directions from their little “leader.” But this time, Isaac was more serious than usual. His face looked tense, and his eyes showed a determination uncommon for a child. Every movement he made was calculated, as if he was trying to learn or master something important.

Isaac led the game with confidence, even a bit of sternness that made the other children feel slightly intimidated. Leo, who usually just followed along, looked hesitant this time and finally dared to speak up.

“Isaac, why do you always get to decide everything?” Leo asked, his voice trembling a bit. The other kids looked at the two of them, and the atmosphere grew tense.

Isaac stared at Leo sharply, a thin smile on his lips. “Because I know what we need to do,” he replied, his voice low but commanding. He leaned toward Leo, his gaze intense, as if trying to subdue that small rebellion. “Weak… they’re all so weak… only I have the strength.”

Leo fell silent, taking a step back. The other kids glanced at each other, sensing something strange in the way Isaac spoke. Isaac’s gaze was unlike that of any other child—as if he saw them as pawns, not friends.

Later that afternoon, Isaac snuck into the old shed behind his house. He took a deep breath, letting the cool air and the smell of dust fill his lungs. In front of him lay a small stone, which he had placed in the middle of the wooden floor.

Isaac crouched, focusing intently on the stone. Slowly, he reached out his hand toward it, then closed his eyes. Inside, a powerful urge rumbled, as if he wanted to channel some kind of energy.

“Move…” Isaac thought intensely. “Why does it feel… so close, yet so difficult?” His brow furrowed, his face growing more serious. “I know I can do this. In my past life… I could,” he whispered softly.

But the stone remained still.

The failure frustrated him, but more than that, he began to feel something familiar. The thirst for power he once had as Maximus started to resurface, though still in a vague form.

“Once, everyone bowed before me…” Isaac thought, staring at his hand. “Why am I so weak now?”

It was as if, deep in his mind, he could hear voices from the past. Sounds of victorious laughter, the cheers of his troops, and the pride he felt when he crushed his enemies. That power felt so close, yet his small body seemed to limit him.

“I must… grow stronger,” Isaac murmured. His eyes gleamed with a fierce determination, as if making a promise to himself.

Meanwhile, in the kitchen, Lydia looked out the window, observing Isaac as he walked back with a face full of disappointment and suppressed anger. She could sense a change in her son, but didn’t know how to ask about it.

“Something’s been off with Isaac lately,” Lydia said, turning to her husband, David. “He seems so… ambitious, as if he always wants more than other kids his age.”

David sighed, trying to ease his wife’s worries. “Maybe he’s just a bright kid, Lydia. It’s normal for him to develop his personality a bit faster.”

Lydia shook her head, her gaze fixed on Isaac, who was sitting alone under a tree, deep in thought with a tense expression. “It’s not about intelligence, David. He seems… like he’s searching for something he doesn’t even understand. Sometimes… I feel he’s more than just a child.”

Isaac, sitting alone in his room, stared at his reflection in the mirror. The reflection didn’t just show his small, weak self; it almost revealed a larger presence within him—the figure of Maximus, trying to rise once again.

“I will find my power again… sooner or later.” Isaac’s gaze in the mirror was full of conviction. Even though he was still a child, his determination to regain his power was intense, and the shadow of Maximus was beginning to emerge within him.

Isaac sat by his bedroom window, staring blankly at the starry night sky. The night breeze seeped through a slightly open crack, causing his jet-black hair to flutter. In his heart, he felt something strong, something he had been trying to understand.

“What is this… why do I feel as if something is buried within me?” Isaac thought, feeling confused. The sensation was so real, yet distant, like a memory hidden behind a veil of mist.

The next day, Isaac and his father, David, sat in the living room after dinner. Usually quiet, Isaac suddenly looked up and asked, “Dad, what is a soul?”

David, who was enjoying a cup of tea, was taken aback by the question. He looked at his son with a bit of surprise, then smiled, trying to stay calm. “The soul, my son?” He thought for a moment, searching for simple words. “It’s… the inner part of us, that makes us feel alive and allows us to feel love, happiness, and even sadness.”

Isaac nodded slowly, but his serious expression remained. “Then… can a soul return? Like… live again?”

David furrowed his brow, never expecting such a question from someone as young as Isaac. “Why are you asking that, Isaac?” he asked, trying to understand his son’s thoughts.

Isaac looked down at the floor, clenching his hands tightly. “Why do I feel as if… I’m not really myself?” he thought silently. “I don’t know, Dad,” he replied softly. “Sometimes, I feel… as if there’s another life in my memory.”

David gently patted Isaac’s back, his smile soft but full of confusion. “Maybe it’s just your imagination, son. Kids often imagine things.”

Isaac glanced toward the window again, unsure of his father’s answer. “Imagination? No… this is stronger than that.” His inner turmoil grew, as if a part of him wanted to come out, to explain, but was held back by his small, frail body.

That night, Isaac stood in front of the mirror in his room. Moonlight streamed through the window, illuminating his face with a serious, enigmatic expression. He stared deeply at his reflection, trying to find something hidden behind his own eyes.

In the reflection, slowly, another figure emerged. His small and innocent face changed into an image with red eyes, full of anger and power, the face of a grown man surrounded by a dark aura. Isaac gasped, stepping back with trembling fear. “Who… is that?” he whispered.

“It’s me. The real me.” The figure didn’t speak, but the sensation was so real, as if it echoed within his mind.

Isaac reached out his hand toward the mirror, as if trying to touch the figure. But as his fingers were about to touch the glass, the figure faded, leaving only his own confused face.

Isaac took a deep breath, feeling his chest tighten. “What’s wrong with me? Why do I feel things I’m not supposed to understand?” he thought. “Am I… different from other kids?”

His expression grew somber, and as the night grew quieter, he felt more isolated than ever. “I need to know the truth… whoever I really am,” he said softly, as if making a promise to himself.

In the living room, Lydia and David sat together, discussing the strange things they had recently noticed in their son. Lydia, with worry in her eyes, looked at her husband. “David, don’t you feel that there’s… something unusual about Isaac? He thinks too much for his age.”

David nodded, rubbing his temples. “I know, Lydia. His questions, the way he looks at the world, it’s all different. It’s as if he… he knows something we don’t.”

Lydia took a deep breath, looking toward Isaac’s room. “I just worry something bad might happen to him. What should we do, David?”

David squeezed Lydia’s hand, trying to comfort her. “All we can do is support him, Lydia. Maybe this is just a phase he’ll outgrow. But we’ll always be here for him.”

Isaac, back in his bed, stared at the ceiling in the darkness. His sharp, small eyes reflected an unusual resolve. “I will find the answers. Whoever I am, whatever I am… I will remember.” With a determined gaze, he resolved to uncover the truth about who he really was.

Outside the window, the night sky seemed to witness the beginning of a long journey.

Isaac sat on the green grass in a quiet park, where only the sound of the wind and birds chirping kept him company. His small hand gripped the soil beneath him, feeling each grain between his fingers. His gaze was fixed on the distant horizon, as if something invisible awaited him.

"I can feel it... here, inside of me," Isaac thought, sensing a faint pulse moving within his body. A gentle voice inside him, like a distant whisper, kept urging him to dig deeper, to uncover the origin of that power.

That evening, as they walked home from the park, Isaac broke the silence. "Mom, have you ever felt... like there's something big inside you? Something that wants to come out?"

Lydia, who had initially smiled at her son's question, was slightly startled. "What does he mean by 'something big'?" Lydia thought, but she quickly calmed herself and answered, "Sometimes, Isaac. But, what do you mean by something big?"

Isaac furrowed his brow, looking at his mother with a determined gaze. "Like energy. I don't know how to explain it... but I feel there's a power that wants to come out of me. I want to know what it is."

Lydia offered a small smile, though worry stirred within her. "Oh, maybe it's just your imagination, dear. Children often feel like they have great power inside them."

Isaac remained silent, nodding slowly. But deep down, he knew this was more than just a daydream. "Mom wouldn’t understand. This… this is more than just imagination." He clenched his hands, feeling an unusual pulse in his palms.

The next day, Isaac returned to the park, this time alone. He sat beneath a large tree, closed his eyes, and began focusing on the strange sensation he had felt earlier. The wind blew gently, brushing through his hair, and he took a deep breath, trying to feel that flow of energy once again.

Isaac slowly extended his arms, his fingers trembling slightly. "Come on... show yourself," he whispered softly, trying to summon the energy. At that moment, a flash of memory crossed his mind: a majestic figure with arms raised, controlling a dark energy swirling around.

But as he began to feel a faint warmth in his hands, footsteps sounded behind him. Isaac flinched, breaking his concentration. He turned to see a boy his age, looking at him with curiosity.

"Hey, what are you doing here all alone?" the boy asked with a smile, looking at Isaac with slight bewilderment.

Isaac stared back, unsure how to answer. "I'm... trying something," he finally replied, his voice flat.

The boy frowned. "Trying what? You looked like you were calling something."

Isaac sighed and lowered his head. "Maybe he'll think I'm weird." But a part of him wanted to share. "I feel... like there's a power inside of me. I just want to know... what it is."

The boy chuckled, taking it as a joke. "Power? You must be kidding! We're just kids."

Isaac gave a faint smile, but his gaze remained serious. "Maybe we’re kids, but I know what I feel," he murmured, more to himself.

As the boy left, Isaac closed his eyes again, trying to focus. "Come on, show yourself again. I know you’re there." Slowly, he felt a faint pulse within him, flowing like a warm current. With hope, he tried to feel it more intensely, drawing the energy toward his hands.

Then, suddenly, he heard a whisper in his mind—a deep, powerful voice. "You are me. This power is yours, Isaac. Do not fear."

Isaac's heart raced. "Who is that? Who’s talking to me?" he wondered, with curiosity and a hint of fear.

He opened his eyes, and for a moment, he saw a faint glow surrounding his hand, but it quickly faded. Isaac let out a long sigh, feeling a bit of frustration. "I’m not ready... but one day, I’ll master this," he promised himself.

At home, Lydia observed Isaac, who seemed lost in thought at the dinner table. His serious expression and his unusually calm demeanor for his age only added to Lydia's worries. "What’s really happening to my son?" she wondered, though she didn't want to disrupt his thoughts.

Meanwhile, Isaac looked down at his hand, still feeling the faint vibration slowly fading. In his heart, he knew this was just the beginning of something much greater. "I have to know... I have to master this power."

Isaac stared resolutely toward the window, where night was beginning to blanket the sky, and the cold wind blew softly, as if carrying a message from his mysterious past.