Chapter 1: Transmigrated a the 9th Demon Lord
Leo blinked. Once. Twice. He squeezed his eyes shut, then snapped them open again. Nope. Still there.
He wasn't in his cramped apartment, surrounded by empty energy drink cans and the familiar glow of his gaming PC. He was sitting bolt upright on a massive throne, carved from something dark and cold – obsidian, maybe? It felt like ice beneath him. The room around him was enormous, cavernous even, lit by flickering torches that cast long, dancing shadows on towering stone walls. High above, the ceiling vanished into gloom. It smelled faintly of dust, smoke, and something metallic.
"What the...?" Leo whispered, his own voice sounding strange in the vast silence. His heart hammered against his ribs like a trapped bird. "Where... how did I get here?" Panic started as a cold trickle in his stomach. One second he was battling the final raid boss in *Chronicles of Aethel*, fingers flying over the keyboard, the next... darkness. A sudden, total blackout. And then this.
He looked down at his hands resting on the throne's cold arms. Human hands. Normal skin, familiar fingers. He patted his chest, his face. Still him. Leo Evans. Not some monster. That was a small relief, quickly swallowed by the sheer impossibility of his situation.
Then, it hit him. Not physically, but mentally. A wave of knowledge, like a dam bursting inside his head. Images, names, feelings that weren't his own flooded in.
*Transmigration.*
*Fantasy world.*
*Demon Lord.*
Leo sucked in a sharp breath, his knuckles whitening on the throne. Not just a Demon Lord. One of nine. Nine powerful, terrifying rulers scattered across this world. And the entire world, led by something called the Holy Church and their chosen Heroes, wanted nothing more than to see every single one of them dead. Him included.
He slumped back against the unforgiving throne, the weight of it pressing down on him. "No way," he breathed, the words echoing slightly. "This can't be real. Game over should mean respawn, not... not *this*!" He wanted to scream, to cry, but his eyes stayed stubbornly dry. Trapped. He was trapped in the body of public enemy number one. A wave of pure, cold dread washed over him. He was going to be hunted. Killed. For existing.
As the terrifying thought circled his mind, something shimmered into existence right before his eyes. Leo flinched, nearly falling off the throne. A rectangle of cool, blue light hung in the air, transparent but solid-looking. Words scrolled across it in neat, glowing text. It looked exactly like a game interface.
"A hologram?" Leo muttered, reaching out a hesitant finger. It passed right through the light. No substance. Just... information. His gaze flickered over the words.
**<<< SYSTEM INTERFACE ACTIVATED >>>**
**<<< USER: LEO EVANS / DESIGNATION:
AZRAEL, THE SILENT SHADOW >>>**
**<<< STATUS SCAN COMPLETE >>>**
Below that, his details unfolded:
**NAME:** Leo Evans (Primary) / Azrael (Secondary)
**RACE:** Human (???)
**TITLE:** 9th Demon Lord of the Obsidian Reach
**LEVEL:** 999999
**HP:** ????????
**MP:** ????????
**STRENGTH:** MAX
**AGILITY:** MAX
**VITALITY:** MAX
**INTELLIGENCE:** MAX
**WISDOM:** MAX
**LUCK:** MAX
**SKILLS:** [ERROR - TOO MANY TO DISPLAY]
**STATUS:** Confused, Terrified, Uniquely Overpowered
Leo stared. He blinked hard. He rubbed his eyes. The numbers and words didn't change. MAX. Every single stat. MAX. And that level... 999,999? His mind reeled. From the memories flooding his head, he knew the strongest Heroes, the legendary figures, barely scraped level 900 after decades of battle and divine blessings. Level 1000 was considered a near-mythical ceiling, almost impossible to breach. And here he was... sitting at nearly a *million*?
The cold dread gripping his heart began to loosen, replaced by a strange, bubbling sensation. A disbelieving snort escaped him. Then another. It built, rising from his chest until it burst out as a loud, slightly hysterical laugh that bounced off the stone walls.
"Nine hundred ninety-nine thousand... nine hundred ninety-nine?!" Leo gasped between laughs, slapping his knee.
"MAX?! Everything?!"
He looked around the imposing, empty throne room, his fear evaporating like mist in sunlight.
"I'm... I'm the strongest thing here? Stronger than anyone?"
The implications crashed over him. The Heroes? The Church? Their whole "Kill the Demon Lords" mission? A slow, incredulous grin spread across his face. "They want to kill *me*?" He chuckled again, the sound warmer now, tinged with relief. "Good luck with that."
He leaned back on the imposing throne, a sense of profound calm settling over him for the first time since he woke up. He wasn't going to start any fights. Why bother? But if anyone – Hero, Church zealot, or even one of those other eight Demon Lords – decided to come knocking on his obsidian door looking for trouble... well, Leo Evans, aka Azrael the Unbelievably Overpowered, was suddenly feeling very, very secure. He flexed his very human, very normal-looking fingers, marveling at the impossible power thrumming unseen beneath the skin. Maybe being a Demon Lord wouldn't be so bad after all. As long as they left him alone.