A lavish, moonlit chamber in the heart of the Emerald Palace cradled Sultan the Hero in decadent bliss. Silk sheets, the color of royal emeralds, tangled with his limbs. His golden hair splayed across a cushion as he snored softly, the scent of roses and jasmine thick in the warm air. The soft glow of enchanted crystal lamps gave the chamber an ethereal calm, as if nothing in the world could disturb it.
Four women lay around him, beautiful, powerful, and utterly devoted.
Sitar, an elven beauty with piercing green eyes and flowing silver hair, rested to his right, her lean, archer's frame curled protectively against him. Tina the dwarf, short and curvaceous with fierce red braids, snored quietly on his chest, still clutching a piece of bread from last night's feast. Margaret, a muscular beast-woman with stripes across her back and feline ears, sprawled on her stomach, tail flicking lazily. And finally, Lucy, a sultry dark-skinned mage whose aura pulsed with arcane power, murmured softly in an ancient tongue, her hand resting on Sultan's.
"Finally," Sultan mumbled as he stretched, a satisfied smirk on his lips. "A day without battles."
But peace never lasts.
A horn blared a monstrous, guttural note that shook the windows. The chandelier above swayed.
"Enemy attack!" screamed a guard as he burst through the doors only to be impaled by a lance of shadow.
The walls shook. Screams echoed. Fire lit the night outside.
Sitar was first to react, rolling out of bed and drawing her bow in one fluid motion. Tina slammed her fist on a bedside chest, retrieving her war hammer. Margaret snarled, her claws flashing, while Lucy stood upright, eyes glowing with violet fury.
Sultan leapt from bed, his celestial armor forming around him in golden shimmer. "To arms! Protect the palace!"
Too slow.
From the shattered balcony emerged a demon in jagged obsidian armor one of the Demon King's generals. He hurled a cursed blade, and it pierced Sultan's chest before he could raise his shield.
He dropped to the floor, breath stolen, life fading.
The screams of the women he loved became distant echoes as darkness swallowed him whole.
---
{Somewhere}
He awoke, choking.
His throat burned, his body trembled, and pain clutched every inch of his skin.
"He's alive! Prince Virn draws breath!"
The voice was harsh, yet filled with awe. Around him, demons moved with frantic energy. They worked in a room of black stone and burning sigils, a grotesque mockery of a healing chamber.
The boy's reflection in a basin showed ashen skin, thin features, and curved horns that hadn't fully formed. His eyes glowed violet.
The truth hit him like a meteor.
He was no longer Sultan. He had died.
He was now Virn, a demon prince the weak and sickly son of Hunjar the Horned Bull, one of the Hundred Demon Kings who ruled the fragmented infernal realms.
"The poison nearly killed him," muttered a one-eyed demonic healer. "But someone or something kept his soul intact."
It was his soul. His human soul. Sultan, reborn in the body of a dying demon prince.
Hunjar. The beast who razed the kingdom of Iltani. The one whose horns gleamed like obsidian suns. This monster was now his father.
The room spun. Pain flared. But in that agony, something stronger took root.
Determination.
---
{Elsewhere: The Demon Sea}
Deep beneath the rolling abyss, inside a cathedral of coral and skulls, Lord Neryx, Demon King of the Ocean, stirred.
The sea quaked with his sigh. "A new light rises. Another summoned hero has entered this world."
His translucent tendrils floated serenely as he addressed his aide, a humanoid crustacean trembling before him.
"Notify the others," Neryx whispered. "Before that light blinds us."
---
{Brak'Thor, Land of Ash and Flame}
The volcanic throne room roared with fire and battle cries. King Bromo, Demon King of the Earth, stood tall, built like a mountain, with molten rock for skin.
"Summoned heroes again? Let them come! We'll bury them beneath mountains!"
Lava surged at his feet. Giants beat war drums. The ground trembled in anticipation.
---
{Mount Ghalar, Lair of Titans}
The air stank of scorched stone. A massive serpent one of the ancient mountain dragons, writhed against magical chains.
Crimson-robed Amron, the Red Demon King, stood unmoved. Flames danced across his pauldrons as he faced the beast.
Behind him, a pale servant froze mid-incantation.
Amron tilted his head. "Why stop?"
"My Lord... I felt something. A pull. Like... kin. A hero."
Amron smiled faintly. "Ah, yes. You were once a summoned one yourself. Maybe you can feel your friend's presence."
He turned to the chained dragon. "Let us focus. The mountain must not wake fully. Put the beast back to sleep."
---
{Back in the Demon Realm}
Virn rose from bed for the first time in days. His legs wobbled. His muscles atrophied. But he stood.
A demon maid gasped. "Prince Virn! You shouldn't move!"
"Summon my father," he rasped. "Tell him his son lives."
He dressed in black ceremonial garb, embroidered in crimson thread. The crest of Hunjar the bull crowned in flames sat heavy on his chest.
He walked the dark halls of the Infernal Bastion, drawing stares. Some fearful. Some murderous.
Let them stare. He had returned from death.
Not as the Hero of Light.
But as the Demon Prince.
And in time… the Demon King.
---
{Far Away: The Summoning}
The Imperial Cathedral of Solaria gleamed like the sun. Inside, golden ritual circles blazed on marble floors.
With a crack of light and reality itself warping, a figure dropped from the portal.
"Agh! Damn it!" the teen groaned as he landed on his back. He wore a hoodie with a dragon skull emblem, oversized headphones around his neck, and sneakers.
The clerics bowed.
"Hero! We have summoned thee to fight the Demon Kings!"
He looked up, blinking behind thick gamer glasses. "Wait. What? Like... an actual isekai?"
He fished out his phone. No signal.
"Oh man," he muttered. "This better not lag."
Kenji Arasaka age 19, pro gamer, shut-in, now summoned hero of a world in chaos.
And the game was just beginning.