Rimuru x fictional verse

forgoten tale of earth x Rimuru ..?

In the earliest days, Earth wasn’t the fractured world we know today. Back then, heaven and land were one, an unbroken realm where gods, demons, angels, and fairies lived side by side. The sun and moon weren’t opposites but rather celestial twins, perfectly matched in size, dancing together around the Earth in harmony. There was no pain, no division—just a peaceful existence that no one questioned.

Among these beings was a demon child, Rimuru, a blend of darkness and light. She was the daughter of the Demon Lord, who ruled the shadow realm with a kind of strict order that kept chaos at bay. But, as things often go, even the most powerful have enemies. Rimuru's father was brought down by none other than the God of Information, a deity who had the power to twist reality itself.

The God of Information looked at the Demon Lord and declared, “You’ll fall by my hand because I can make what’s true false and what’s false true.” With that, a simple whisper was all it took to destroy Rimuru’s father, sending him into a void of nothingness.

Rimuru, still just a child, was crushed by the sight of her father’s lifeless body. But grief didn’t turn her away from the path she chose vengeance. She vowed to seek justice, even if it meant challenging the gods themselves. “I want to avenge my father,” she said, her voice shaking with the kind of determination that only comes from deep pain.

The God of Information scoffed. “You’re just a child, born from chaos. You have no idea what power I possess.”

But Rimuru wasn’t deterred. “I want justice,” she insisted, every word sharper than the last.

Driven by her loss, Rimuru cast off her mortal form, stepping beyond the limitations of gender and physicality. She became a being of pure will, adopting the title of Demon King, a ruler for the lost and the broken. Her vision was clear: “I want a kingdom that defies the heavens,” she declared. Her realm would be a place where beings of all kinds could live in unity, free from the chains of their origins.

Over time, Rimuru’s kingdom grew, spreading across all of Asia, becoming a sanctuary for the outcasts, the misfits, and the lost. Her people adored her, seeing in her a ruler who genuinely cared for them, who understood their struggles because she had lived through them herself.

But peace is fragile. A century after her father’s fall, the God of Information returned, this time with a new scheme. He tricked Rimuru’s mother, the Goddess of Beauty and Happiness, into bearing his child, tainting her family with his treachery.

When Rimuru learned of this betrayal, her rage knew no bounds. “I want retribution for the dishonor you’ve brought upon my family,” she roared, her anger fueling her power.

In her fury, Rimuru unleashed all the mana within her, directing it into a single, catastrophic act. With a swing of her sword, she split the Earth itself into seven pieces. The moon, once a twin to the Earth, was shattered into countless fragments. The seas surged higher than ever before, mountains crumbled, and the continents began to drift apart, creating the world as we know it.

Her wrath didn’t stop there. Rimuru’s power drained the magic that once flowed through the land, forcing angels and demons into human forms, transforming gods into beasts, and turning fairies into mighty dinosaurs that roamed the newly fractured world.

Finally, Rimuru reached into the fabric of reality itself, tearing it apart as she dragged the God of Information into her very soul. In that moment, she created the concept of duality—light and darkness, truth and falsehood, day and night—all born from her act of vengeance.

With the Earth in its new form, a new era began. The first humans emerged from the ruins, born from the scattered magic left behind by the sundering. The once-mighty beings, now mortal, walked among them, their memories of a time before the great split fading like distant dreams.

In quiet villages, around the warmth of a fire, humans would tell tales of the gods and their mighty deeds. A curious child would ask, “I want to know of the gods and their stories.”

An elder, wise with the knowledge of the past, would respond, “The gods were once like us, walking among us, living and dying. But the world has changed, and they are no more.”

And there, in the shadow of a great mountain, Rimuru stood, her heart heavy with all that had been lost and gained. She looked out at the world she had shaped, a world born from her anger and grief, and she knew that her journey was far from over.

“I want a world that remembers,” she whispered to the wind, her voice carrying across the land. “A world that never forgets the pain of betrayal and the price of vengeance.”

The legend of Rimuru Tempest, the King of Chaos, lived on, becoming a symbol of strength and defiance, of love and loss. Her story, like the sun and moon, continues to rise and set, a tale written in the stars, passed down through generations.

For in the end, what remains are the stories we tell, the legends we keep alive, and the truths we choose to believe. And in the heart of every myth, there’s a spark of truth, a light that can never be extinguished.

And so it is, and so it shall be.