Chapter 2: Rebirth of the Strategist
The warm cradle of darkness was beginning to loosen its hold. Volundr felt it first in the back of his mind, a spark of awareness emerging from the void. Then came sound—the gentle hum of magical energy, the soft murmurs of unfamiliar voices. His first breath as a newborn devil filled his tiny lungs with cool, slightly sulfur-scented air.
In that moment, he was no longer the thirty-year-old man who died beneath the wheels of Truck-kun. He was Volundr Agares, born into the prestigious Agares Clan of the Underworld.
The transition had not been sudden. Before his rebirth, he had faced the enigmatic God of Reincarnation, negotiated with clarity and purpose, and made his requests. Each wish he made was precise, driven by the long hours he'd spent as a mortal reading, watching, and fantasizing about stories like this. The wisdom of Jia Xu. Limitless Aura. Sacred Gear transfer knowledge. A powerful Evil Piece set. And the potions that could cure Devil Sleeping Disease.
Most importantly, he had asked for his memories to remain sealed until the age of five, giving himself the chance to live a genuine devil childhood without overwhelming knowledge or pressure.
He didn't know it then, but that single decision would come to define much of his early life in the Underworld.
The first five years passed in a blur of sensations and instinct. He cried, he ate, he slept—just like any other devil baby. His body, though technically low-class in power, grew stronger rapidly thanks to the dormant Limitless Aura he unknowingly carried.
He was cared for by his noble family, the Agares. Their home was dignified, a grand castle fortified with ancient magic and tradition. His younger sister, Seekvaira, was born two years after him. Even as toddlers, their bond was evident. He would always reach out to her with protective instincts, and she would cling to him with childlike trust.
Their parents were strict but fair. The Lord of the Agares Clan was a composed and proud devil, valuing tradition and wisdom. Their mother was a skilled magic-user, elegant and sharp, who taught them manners, poise, and the importance of controlling one's aura.
Even as a toddler, Volundr felt strange flashes of déjà vu. Sometimes he'd gaze at the moon through the window of his nursery and feel a deep sense of longing. Other times, when seeing noble gatherings or training grounds, he would feel a flicker of interest or a strange calm awareness that belied his age.
His instincts were sharper than any child's should be. He learned to speak and walk earlier than expected. He listened when adults talked, his silent gaze always unnerving the servants slightly. Even then, something about him felt... off. Powerful, ancient. His aura—although low in class—had a steadiness that most veteran devils lacked.
On his fifth birthday, everything changed.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting golden light through the high-arched windows of the estate, Volundr felt a ripple in his soul. A sharp jolt in his mind forced him to pause. He stumbled while walking with Seekvaira and collapsed in the hall.
He convulsed—briefly. But in his mind, a floodgate opened.
Memories surged forward.
Earth. His life as a 30-year-old man. His death by Truck-kun. The glowing presence of the God of Reincarnation. The desires and the deals.
And then came the final piece.
Jia Xu.
The wisdom of the Three Kingdoms strategist poured into him like a second consciousness. He felt his thoughts expand, his mental agility sharpen. Cold analysis mingled with ancient intuition. He could remember historical analogies and how they would apply to the world he was now part of.
When he came to, he was lying in bed. The servants had assumed it was a fever. His parents visited briefly, worried but composed. Seekvaira had stayed nearby, holding his hand until sleep claimed her.
But Volundr remained wide awake beneath the covers.
The child was gone.
The strategist had returned.
The next few days, Volundr did not reveal what had happened. He simply watched.
He observed every aspect of his surroundings with a fresh perspective. He began studying the flow of magical energy within the estate. He paid attention to the maids' daily patterns, the way guards rotated shifts, and how his parents conducted meetings.
He sat with Seekvaira during lessons, silently absorbing everything taught by the tutors. He began asking questions—deeper ones. About the Underworld's noble factions. About Rating Games. About the history of the Devil Civil War.
The adults were surprised, amused at first. But then the amusement turned into concern. A five-year-old should not be asking about political treaties or the tactical failures of Old Satan Lucifer.
His father summoned him to the training grounds one evening.
"I heard you've been asking difficult questions, son."
Volundr nodded, not hiding his calm gaze. "I want to understand the world I live in."
"You're five."
"I won't always be. I want to prepare now so that I can lead later."
There was silence.
The elder Lord Agares, for all his stern traditions, saw something in his son that evening—something profound. He did not smile. He simply turned to the weapons rack and handed Volundr a short wooden staff.
"Then begin preparing. Prove your words with action."
That night marked the beginning of Volundr's training.
He rose with the sun and meditated on his aura. Jia Xu's wisdom guided him in visualization techniques that allowed him to stabilize and refine his magical circuits. His understanding of energy flow was years beyond what any child should know.
He studied basic hand-to-hand combat with an old family instructor. Although his body was small, his techniques were shockingly efficient. He didn't fight like a brawler—he fought like a tactician. Each move calculated. Each step considered.
When not training physically, he read.
Tomes of magic theory. Battle chronicles of ancient Devil generals. Even the treatises written by Ajuka Beelzebub on formulaic spells and demonic energy constructs. Volundr absorbed them all with intense focus.
At night, when the estate was asleep, he would sneak into the library and practice magic silently in the courtyard. Nothing destructive—just small techniques. A floating light. A minor shield. An illusion.
The magic responded to him like it recognized his potential.
He realized then that his Limitless Aura had no radius now—it worked based on mark and proximity of intent. Anyone he marked as "allied" could grow with accelerated progress. It was subtle but powerful. He would need time before others noticed it, but when they did, the implications would be massive.
Volundr began to shape a vision in his mind.
He would rise not only through power but through influence.
He'd build alliances from childhood.
He'd train in secret while showing only measured progress publicly.
He would prepare for the day he'd receive his Evil Piece set—not now, but when legally granted to high-class devils at the appropriate age. He would bide his time until the pieces matured, mutated under his aura's influence.
And he would assemble a peerage not of pawns and knights, but of kings-in-the-making.
Warriors, thinkers, survivors.
Volundr would not just play the Rating Game.
He would redefine it.
He would build an empire that thrived in shadows and strategy.
And as he looked out the window that night, the moon shining silver across the courtyard, he whispered his first oath in this world:
"This time, I will not waste my second life. I will rise, even if I must carve the path myself."