The concepts of Heaven and Hell are just that—concepts.

  For humans, anyway.

  For beings like us, they are real places. Tangible worlds where countless races live, argue, struggle, and carve out their existence. Lands sprawling with cities and towns, each brimming with its own kind of chaos.

  But today… something feels different.

  The sky hangs low, darker than usual. Heavy. As if the heavens themselves are warning me that this day will change my life forever.

  My name is Taseo, and I turned five years old this morning.

  The tall, broad-shouldered man standing in front of me is my father, Alistair. He and I belong to a race of Demonkin considered the weakest among all demonkind—clawed, yes, but lacking the exotic mutations or frightening abilities the other demon races possess. Most see us as useless.

  But no one has ever dared say that to Father’s face.

  “Hey, boy. Are you even listening?”

  He crosses his arms, the metal and leather of his gear jingling softly as they shift.

  “I thought you wanted to learn how to fight, but you’re staring up at the sky like it’s talking to you.”

  “Ah! I’m sorry, Father. I was just… wondering about it.”

  He glances over his shoulder. A faint crease forms between his brows.

  “Hm. I know what you mean. It does look like a bad omen.”

  He turns back to me, lowering his arms and slipping into a loose combat stance. One hand raised to shoulder height, fists tightening with quiet seriousness.

  “Never mind all that, son. Let’s focus on training. After all… this is the first time I get to show you how to fight.”

  Determined—but nervous—I attempt a combat stance of my own. Or at least, what I think one should look like. I’ve never fought before. No child my age would ever consider something like this.

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  But when it’s just you and your father for as long as you can remember… you grow up fast.

  I never knew my mother. She left me on our doorstep the day I was born. Father never speaks about her. The one time I asked, he changed the subject so quickly it was like he needed to escape the memory. So I stopped asking.

  “So… what do I do now?” I ask, unsure.

  “Come at me and try to land a hit. I’ll only defend.”

  His confidence radiates from him. It always has.

  Even though our race is looked down upon, he never was. Quite the opposite—during his younger years, he shocked the demonic world. His talent caught the eye of high-ranking commanders, and his achievements in battle earned him a swift rise to the rank of General. Even now, some Generals avoid fighting him.

  Whatever gives him that strength… I want to inherit it.

  No—I want to surpass him.

  “Okay! Here I come!” I shout proudly.

  Father’s mouth twitches. He’s trying not to laugh.

  I rush him with all my five-year-old might, swinging my arms wildly. My small fists barely reach his stomach even when I stand on my toes. With effortless grace, he deflects each strike using only one hand. Every time he swats my hand away, my stance opens up completely.

  If he were truly fighting… I would’ve been defeated instantly.

  No matter how many times I try, I can’t land a single hit.

  Frustration bubbles inside me, my movements growing sloppy and desperate. But as the minutes pass, I slowly understand—he’s not doing this to mock me. He’s refusing to give me an easy victory… because he wants me to learn.

  Eventually, I collapse onto my back, panting heavily.

  It feels like I’ve been fighting for hours. In truth, only minutes have passed.

  “Out of air, little one?” Father chuckles, lowering what remains of his stance.

  He takes a step toward me, kneels down, and ruffles my hair gently.

  “You did well for your very first try. With training, you’ll become a fine warrior.”

  Despite my exhaustion, my eyes light up.

  “Do you really think so? As fine as you, Dad?”

  He bursts into a warm, wholehearted laugh.

  “With a lot of training, I’m sure you’ll catch up to your old man.”

  He lifts me under my arms, placing me up on his shoulders. I lean against his head, still catching my breath. His white-gray, mane-like hair brushes against my cheeks as he begins walking.

  We trained far into the fields, so home is still a bit distant. I close my eyes and rest my head on him. The rhythmic sway of his steps lulls me, my eyelids growing heavy.

  “Listen, Taseo,” he says softly—but with a determined undertone.

  “You’re special. I’m sure you’ll achieve whatever you set your mind to. Just stay determined. Stay true to your beliefs. No matter how much life or fate tries to break you down… always get back up. Fight for what’s right, and protect those who can’t protect themselves.”

  I don’t fully understand what he means.

  I’m too young… too tired… drifting in and out of consciousness.

  His voice grows distant.

  Warm.

  Comforting.

  And before I can ask him what he meant…

  …sleep takes me.