The King of Faries is now a Demon Lord

Chapter -1: Prologue

In the cozy sanctuary of a dark treehouse, illuminated by the soft glow of a lamp, a grandmother fairy captivated her grandson with a magical story.

She began, her voice filled with warmth

"Once upon a time...there existed a magnificent king. Handsome, fair, and full of kindness, he ushered his realm into a glorious golden age. However, as the years wore on, the king's narcissism grew, and he became infatuated with his own image, spending countless years gazing at his portraits."

The child's eyes widened in awe as he peered at the exquisite illustrations in the storybook. Eagerly, he pleaded with his grandma to continue, craving the next chapter of the tale.

A touch of sadness crossed her face, but she maintained a gentle smile, affectionately tousling her grandson's curly hair. "One fateful day...the king ventured into the enchanting Fairy Garden, where a monumental statue in his likeness was being erected.This sculpture reached unimaginable heights, piercing through the very clouds and standing proudly at the center of the pavilion. Crafted from the rarest of metals, Pure Mythril, it shimmered with a brilliance surpassing even that of gold."

The child leaned in closer, his eyes shimmering with anticipation. "-And then?" he urged, hungering for the story's next revelation.

The grandma's smile grew tender, and she gently closed the book, placing a loving kiss upon her grandchild's forehead and whispered.

"We shall read more of the tale tomorrow, my dear. It is past your bedtime now."

Disappointed, the child let out a playful sigh. "Aww..." he exclaimed, while the grandma chuckled softly.

She extinguished the flickering torch, casting the treehouse into darkness, and tenderly tucked a cozy blanket around the child.

Humming a soothing lullaby, she peered out the window, where the stars twinkled and the moon bathed the world in its gentle glow.

Lost in her thoughts, she wondered if the Fairy King existed somewhere in the vast expanse of the cosmos, a mythical presence residing beyond their reach.

With that enchanting question lingering in the air, the grandmother's soft voice mingled with the hushed night, serenading her beloved grandchild into a peaceful slumber, where dreams and the wonders of the Fairy Garden danced together in harmony.

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