Title: Demon Heir!
Intro Summary:
After a tragic end in his past life, a man awakens as Cheon Muyeon, the the heir of the Dark Clan in the ruthless world of Nano Machine. Armed with memories of the manhwa's plot and a mysterious Multiverse Chat Group System, Muyeon must navigate deadly politics, treacherous alliances, and the looming threat of an overpowered protagonist. In a world where survival is earned through cunning and strength, Muyeon will stop at nothing to claim his rightful place at the top.
Multiverse Chat Group:
First Member: Plague Monarch, Querehsha [Solo Leveling]
Second Member: Boa Hancock [One Piece]
Third Member: ???????
————
The hospital waiting room was a place of sterile white walls and the faint, constant hum of fluorescent lights. The air smelled faintly of antiseptic, a sharp, clinical scent that did little to mask the underlying tension.
In the corner of the room, a small 13-year-old boy sat hunched over, his thin frame barely filling the plastic chair. His dark eyes were fixed on the floor, unblinking, as if he were staring straight through it.
He didn't fidget or cry. He didn't even seem to breathe. He just sat there, still as a statue, his expression blank. His hands, small and calloused from years of hardship, rested limply on his knees. His clothes were worn and too big for him, hanging loosely on his malnourished frame. He looked younger than his thirteen years, a fact that had often worked against him in the past. But now, it didn't matter. Nothing mattered except her.
His little sister was dying.
The doctors had said she needed a heart transplant, and soon. There was no time to wait for a donor. No time to hope for a miracle. The boy had listened quietly as they explained the situation, their voices heavy with pity. His sister's condition was critical, and without a new heart, she wouldn't survive the next couple of days.
But there was one option—one final, logical option.
He was a match.
The boy didn't feel fear or sadness. He felt nothing. His life had been a series of cold, hard realities, and this was just one more. He had always protected her. When they were younger, he had gone without food so she could eat. He had taken the beatings so she wouldn't have to. He had endured the cold nights on the streets, curling his body around hers to keep her warm. She was the only good thing in his life, the only person who mattered.
And now, he would give her his heart.
It was simple. Practical. If his death could save her, then it wasn't even a choice. It was the only thing that made sense.
He stood up, his movements slow and deliberate. His new foster parents, a kind couple who had taken him and his sister in just a week ago, were talking to the doctor, their voices low and urgent. They didn't notice him slip away.
A police officer stood nearby, his hand resting on the holster at his side. The boy approached him, his expression empty. The officer looked down and smiled, his tone friendly but distracted.
"Hey, kid. You need something?"
The boy didn't answer. Instead, he reached for the officer's utility belt. The man's eyes widened in shock, but before he could react, the boy had his service pistol in his hands—a Glock 22. He flicked off the safety with a practiced motion, his small fingers moving with surprising precision. Then he pressed the barrel to his temple.
The hospital erupted into chaos.
People screamed, their voices blending into a cacophony of panic. His foster parents turned, their faces pale with horror. The officer lunged forward, but it was too late. The boy's voice cut through the noise, calm and steady.
"Make sure she gets my heart."
Then he pulled the trigger.
*Bang!*
The sound echoed through the waiting room, sharp and final. For a moment, everything seemed to freeze—the screams, the movement, even the air itself. Then the boy's body crumpled to the floor, the gun slipping from his lifeless fingers.
The officer stared in stunned silence, his hand still outstretched. The boy's foster parents stood frozen, their faces twisted in disbelief. The doctor rushed forward, shouting orders, but it was too late. The boy was gone.
In the corner of the room, the fluorescent lights flickered, casting long shadows across the floor. The hum of the hospital seemed louder now, a relentless, mechanical drone. But the boy didn't hear it. He didn't feel the cold floor beneath him or the blood pooling around his head. He didn't see the chaos he had left in his wake.
All he saw was her face—his sister's face—smiling at him one last time.
…
..
.
Ten Thousand Mountains - Heavenly Demon Divine Cult
(A/N: From this moment on, the protagonist will be called Muyeon)
Shortly after blowing his brains out, Muyeon's consciousness returned slowly, like a fog lifting from his mind.
The first thing he noticed was the extravagant bedroom—a space so opulent it could only belong to a member of royalty, likely from some ancient Asian dynasty. There were no signs of modern lighting or electricity—only the soft beams of morning sunlight streaming through the windows, casting long shadows across the room.
Muyeon blinked, trying to shake off the disorientation. 'Where am I?' he thought, his mind racing. This wasn't the hospital. This wasn't even close to anything he recognized.
His gaze swept across the room, taking in the extravagant details—the intricate carvings on the wooden furniture, the silk drapes, the faint scent of incense lingering in the air. But what caught his attention was the large, ornate mirror propped against the far wall.
Curious, he pushed himself to his feet, his movements fluid and effortless, as if his body were accustomed to this kind of grace. He stepped closer to the mirror, his bare feet silent against the cool stone floor.
When he saw his reflection, he froze.
The face staring back at him wasn't his own. Gone was the gaunt, tired visage of a boy who had lived a hard life. Instead, he saw a young man who looked like he had stepped out of a martial arts epic.
His black hair fell in loose waves, framing a face that was both youthful and strikingly handsome. His eyes, dark and piercing, held a sharpness that betrayed a mind far older than his years. His jawline was strong, his features perfectly balanced.
But it wasn't just his face that had changed. His body was nothing like the frail, weakened frame he remembered. He was tall—far taller than he had been before—with broad shoulders and a muscular build that spoke of years of rigorous training. His arms were corded with lean muscle, his chest and abdomen defined in a way that made him look like a warrior.
[Insert image of Muyeon here] (A/N: Most likes will determine what he looks like. Trolls will be disqualified. Sorry, boys.)
Muyeon raised a hand to his face, half-expecting the reflection to do something different. But it mimicked his movements perfectly, confirming what he already knew: this was him now.
Before he could gather his thoughts, the heavy wooden door creaked open. A woman stepped inside, her presence commanding immediate attention. She was elegant, her long black hair cascading down her back, and her sharp eyes glinted with a mix of affection and authority. She wore robes of deep crimson, adorned with symbols that seemed to pulse with dark energy.
[Insert picture of Lady Mu here]
"My son," she said, her voice soft but firm. She approached him, her movements graceful. Her hand brushed his hair affectionately, but her touch carried an undercurrent of something darker—a reminder of the expectations she had for him.
"You've been meditating for a few days now," she continued, her tone shifting. "I can feel an increase in your Ki, which is good. But the Demon Academy entrance is only a month away. You cannot afford to slack off. The other heirs are training day and night. If you falter, the Dark Clan will suffer."
Her words were a mix of encouragement and warning. She doted on him, but her love was conditional—tied to his success, his strength, and his ability to rise above the rest.
Muyeon stared at her, his mind racing. 'Who is this woman? Why is she calling me her son?' But as she spoke, fragments of memories began to surface—memories that weren't his.
He saw a young boy training relentlessly under the watchful eyes of a stern man—the Demon Lord Cheon Yu-Jong, his father. He felt the weight of expectations, the pressure to excel, and the constant threat of failure. He remembered the brutal politics of the Heavenly Demon Divine Cult, the scheming, the betrayals, the bloodshed.
The memories merged with his own, and the realization hit him like a thunderclap. He wasn't in his old world anymore. He had been reincarnated as Cheon Muyeon, one of the 7 heirs of the Heavenly Demon Divine Cult, and the Young Master of the Dark Clan, the most powerful clan in the Cult.
As the memories settled, another wave of realization washed over him. This wasn't just any world—it was the Nano Machine universe, a manhwa he had read in his past life.
'This is great and all,' he thought, a flicker of annoyance crossing his mind, 'but why couldn't I have been the main character?' His frown lasted only a moment, but the thought lingered.
Sooner or later, he'd have to deal with an overpowered protagonist once the Demon Academy began, and that was a problem he wasn't looking forward to.
'Maybe I can use my future knowledge to survive,' he mused, his mind racing. He knew all too well that if he followed the same path as the original Muyeon, his fate would be sealed—a painful death, reduced to nothing more than a stepping stone for the main character. That wasn't an option. Not for him.
He knew the story, the characters, the stakes. He remembered the protagonist Cheon Yeo-Woon, the nano machine, and the deadly politics of the Cult and the world beyond.
The Martial Alliance, which followed the righteous path, the Unorthodox Alliance, which followed the evil path, and the Heavenly Demon Divine Cult, which followed a completely different path, one that revered only power.
Of course, there would also be the emergence of new factions—the Blade God Six Martial Clan and the Blue Sky Brotherhood. But while the Blue Sky Brotherhood was a problem, they paled in comparison to the threat posed by the Blade God Six Martial Clan.
A rare smile tugged at his lips. He wasn't panicked or overwhelmed. If anything, he felt a thrill of excitement. His dark personality, shaped by the trauma and violence of his past life, made him uniquely suited for this environment.
Death held no fear for him—he had already stared it in the face once. And as for killing? He didn't think it would trouble him either.
At least, he assumed it wouldn't. After all, the only life he'd ever taken was his own.
As Muyeon processed everything, a notification appeared in his mind:
[Multiverse Chat Group System Activated.]
A holographic interface materialized in front of him, its glow casting an eerie light in the dim room. The screen displayed a simple chat window, with a list of functions outlined in neat text.
'Is this my cheat?'
Before he could explore further, his mother's voice cut through his thoughts.
"Muyeon," she said sharply, her tone snapping him back to the present. "Are you listening to me?"
He looked up at her, his expression calm. "Yes, Mother. I'll be down shortly."
She studied him for a moment, her gaze piercing, before nodding. "Good. Don't keep me waiting. You have training today, and you cannot afford to slack off. The Demon Academy starts in a month. The other heirs are not wasting their time, so neither should you."
Muyeon nodded again, his mind already racing ahead. He knew better than to disobey her. Lady Mu might dote on him, but she was also a bloodthirsty villainess with the power to squash him like a bug.
'At least for now…'
Once she left, Muyeon turned his attention back to the holographic screen. This had to be his cheat, something most transmigrators received based on the stories he'd read in his past life. The thought excited him even more.
He began exploring the system's functions.
Admin Role: He was the admin of the Multiverse Chat Group. Although he couldn't control who joined, he could mute members, delete their messages, control trades, and much more.
Trading: Members could trade non-living items freely.
Quests: Quests could be posted and accepted by members, allowing interdimensional travel as long as the admin approved it.
Leveling: The system could level up under the right conditions, adding new members automatically. At Level 1, only one other person would join besides the Admin.
As Muyeon familiarized himself with the system, a notification popped up.
[New Member Added: Plague Monarch.]
His eyes widened. The name was unmistakable—too familiar to be a coincidence. If this was who he thought it was, his second life might have just gained a measure of stability.
Of course, that depended entirely on whether he could convince her to help him—a far-from-guaranteed outcome. 'Knowing her,' he thought, his smirk fading slightly, 'she might just try to kill me instead…'
Suddenly, a message appeared in the chat window.
[Plague Monarch: Who dares pester me?]
————
Elsewhere, moments earlier…
Querehsha, the Monarch of Plagues and Queen of Insects, stood atop the jagged peak of her hive-planet, her glowing red eyes scanning the horizon. She was a tall and strikingly attractive woman, her pale skin contrasting sharply with her long, flowing black hair that cascaded down her back like a dark waterfall. Her dark purple lips curled into a faint smirk, exuding both allure and menace. Her voluptuous figure was accentuated by the greenish-black armor she wore, which left her upper cleavage and shoulders exposed, revealing the pale, flawless skin beneath.
[Insert picture of Querehsha here] (A/N: She's from Solo Leveling, in case anyone didn't know.)
Despite her otherworldly appearance, there was an undeniable air of regality about her, a queen who commanded both fear and respect.
Below her, the planet teemed with life—her life. Countless insectoid soldiers scurried across the surface, their chittering and clicking echoing through the air like a symphony of destruction. The planet was a living hive, a testament to her power and dominion.
She breathed in the acrid air, savoring the scent of decay and conquest. This world, like so many before it, had fallen easily to her might. Its inhabitants had been weak, their resistance pitiful. She had crushed them without mercy, adding their essence to her ever-growing swarm.
But Querehsha was not content. The war against the Rulers was far from over, and the Monarchs had yet to find the perfect world to rebuild their forces.
She clenched her fists, her clawed fingernails glinting in the dim light. Patience was not her strong suit, but she had no choice but to wait.
Just as she was about to descend into the hive to check on her brood, a sudden flash of light interrupted her thoughts. A holographic box materialized in front of her, its glowing text stark against the dark sky.
[Multiverse Chat Group: Invitation Received.]
[Would you like to join?]
Querehsha's eyes narrowed. She tilted her head, her long black hair cascading over her shoulders as she studied the box. The options below the message were simple.
[Yes]
[Yes]
Her lips curled into a sneer. "What is this?" she muttered, her voice low and dangerous. She reached out, her clawed fingers passing through the hologram as if it were nothing more than air.
The box remained, stubbornly hovering in front of her.
[Would you like to join?]
[Yes]
[Yes]
Querehsha's irritation flared. "I do not appreciate being toyed with," she hissed, her red eyes glowing brighter. She swiped at the box again, but it didn't budge.
The hologram flickered, and another box appeared beside it.
[Your response is required.]
[Would you like to join?]
[Yes]
[Yes]
"I said no!" she snapped, her voice echoing across the hive. Below, her insectoid soldiers paused, their antennae twitching as they sensed their queen's anger.
But the system was relentless. More boxes began to appear, one after another, each one repeating the same message.
[Would you like to join?]
[Yes]
[Yes]
[Your response is required.]
[Would you like to join?]
[Yes]
[Yes]
[Join now!]
[Yes]
[Yes]
Querehsha's patience shattered. "Enough!" she roared, her voice shaking the ground. She lashed out with her claws, but the holograms simply multiplied, filling the air around her with their incessant prompts.
Her insectoid soldiers began to chitter nervously, their loyalty warring with their instinct to flee. Querehsha ignored them, her focus entirely on the infuriating boxes.
"Who dares disturb me?" she demanded, her voice dripping with venom. "Show yourself, coward!"
But there was no response—only more boxes.
[Join now for exclusive benefits!]
[Yes]
[Yes]
[Don't miss out!]
[Yes]
[Yes]
Querehsha's claws twitched, her bloodlust rising. She wanted nothing more than to tear apart whoever was behind this. But the holograms were intangible, their source unknown.
Finally, out of sheer exasperation, she snarled, "Fine! If it will silence you, I will join!"
She slammed her clawed hand onto the [Yes] option, her frustration palpable. The boxes disappeared instantly, leaving her in blessed silence.
But the peace didn't last. A new notification appeared, this one more subdued.
[Welcome to the Multiverse Chat Group.]
[You are now connected to other members across dimensions.]
Querehsha's eyes narrowed as she read the message. "A chat group?" she muttered, her tone laced with disdain. "What nonsense is this?"
Before she could dismiss it entirely, another notification popped up.
[One other existing member: (Admin) Demon Heir.]
Querehsha's lips curled into a smirk. Whoever this Demon Heir was, they had better be worth her time. Otherwise, she would make them regret ever pestering her.
A/N: 3021 words :)
👇🚨🥺GIVE STONES PLS🥺🚨👇