Numaro: The Demon King's Heir

Chapter 1: "The Weakling"

The bell rang loudly through the halls of Vallera Elementary, signaling the end of another school day. Numaro walked through the hallway with his head down, clutching his tattered backpack. His feet shuffled quietly, trying to avoid the crowd of kids laughing and running past him. He was a shadow in their midst—always there, but never noticed.

"Hey, look, it's Numaro the Weakling!" a voice jeered from behind him.

Numaro flinched but didn't look back. It was the same group of bullies who tormented him daily. Taro, their leader, was the worst of them all. Taller and stronger than everyone else in the class, Taro reveled in making Numaro's life miserable.

"Did you bring your magic book today, freak?" Taro sneered, stepping in front of Numaro. He snatched the old, worn-out book from Numaro's hands. "What's this supposed to be, huh? Are you going to cast some spell on us? Oh, wait, you can't. You're too weak."

The other kids around them laughed as Taro flipped through the pages. Numaro kept his eyes on the ground, his hands trembling in anger and shame.

"Give it back..." Numaro muttered softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

"What was that? Speak up, weakling!" Taro shoved him hard, causing Numaro to stumble and fall to the ground. The book fell with him, its pages scattering across the floor.

"I said, give it back!" Numaro shouted, his hands clenching into fists. For a split second, the air around him felt different, heavier, darker. But just as quickly, the sensation faded, and he was left with nothing but the sound of more laughter.

Taro dropped the book in front of him with a smirk. "Take it, loser. It's not like it'll help you."

Numaro hurriedly gathered the scattered pages and shoved them into his bag, ignoring the stinging tears in his eyes. He ran out of the school, away from the mocking voices that followed him.

Later that night, Numaro sat alone in his small bedroom, staring at the book his mother had given him before she passed away. It was an old grimoire, filled with ancient symbols and strange spells. She always told him that it was a book of "great power," but Numaro had never been able to unlock its secrets.

"Why... why am I so weak?" Numaro whispered, clutching the book tightly. He stared at the reflection in his mirror—a thin, frail boy with no power, no strength. He was nothing like the other kids.

Suddenly, the room felt colder. The lights flickered, and a low, rumbling voice echoed through the room.

"You are not weak, my son."

Numaro jumped, looking around frantically. "Who—who's there?!"

The shadows in the room shifted, and from the darkness emerged a figure—a tall, imposing man with crimson eyes and horns curling from his forehead. His presence was suffocating, his aura radiating pure malice and power.

"I am Azazel, King of the Demon World," the figure said, his voice a low growl. "And you, Numaro, are my heir."

Numaro's heart raced as he backed away, his mind struggling to comprehend what was happening. "That's... that's not possible! I'm just a kid! I'm nobody!"

Azazel's eyes narrowed. "You are the son of the Demon King. The blood of demons flows through your veins. The power within you is far greater than you realize."

Numaro shook his head, his mind spinning. "No... no, this can't be true... I'm just... I'm just Numaro."

Azazel stepped closer, his gaze piercing through Numaro's soul. "You are far more than that. The power you felt earlier today, the darkness inside you—that is the true nature of your being. And if you embrace it, you will no longer be weak. You will become unstoppable."

Numaro's breath caught in his throat. The memory of the strange sensation at school flashed through his mind—the heaviness, the darkness. Was that really his power?

"I... I don't want to be a demon," Numaro whispered, shaking his head. "I don't want to hurt people."

Azazel's expression darkened. "Whether you want it or not, the world will see you as a monster. The humans will never accept you. But in the Demon World, you are royalty. You are destined to rule."

Numaro clenched his fists, his emotions warring inside him. Part of him wanted to deny it all, to reject everything this dark figure was saying. But another part of him—a deep, hidden part—felt drawn to the power, to the promise of strength.