Prologue

Owen Clark's name is rather unique. It is said that when he was born, there happened to be a drought lasting several months. His scholarly grandfather stroked his beard and named him "wo" (meaning "fertile"), praying for heavenly rain to nourish the rice fields.

If it weren't for his grandfather's stutter, always starting his sentences with "wo, wo, wo...", Owen Clark might have actually believed the story.

As he grew up, Owen Clark became an ordinary deliveryman, whose greatest feature was having no distinguishing features at all. No one would ever pay special attention to the traits of a lowly courier.

Owen Clark pedaled his little bicycle to the street corner.

"Watch out!" "Get out of the way!"

Anxious shouts rang out. Owen Clark instinctively paused, and then the screech of brakes pierced the air. He caught the acrid smell of tires burning against the pavement.

Thud.

Flying through the air, Owen Clark's mind raced: "Is this that clichéd prelude to transmigration—the 'sudden car accident' mission? Am I about to transmigrate..."

He'd heard of people transmigrating by being sucked into a toilet. Suddenly, he felt lucky it was just a car accident...

Then, everything went black.

……

This was a land of pitch-black scorched earth. A blood-red crescent moon hung in the sky, its crimson light, like fresh paint, piercing thick clouds and spilling over the charred ground.

A complex, massive magic array was etched into the scorched earth. Pale golden lines twisted and tangled like countless vines and petals. Sacred platinum mist rose above the array, utterly out of place in the sinister surroundings.

A gigantic creature lay struggling at the center of the array, as if crushed by an infinite weight, unable to stand.

The creature was highly abstract: it had a pair of huge, curling ram's horns, a skull wreathed in blue ghostly flames, a burly human torso, and the lower body of a horse. Its four hooves were thick and muscular, like the roots of an ancient tree. Even more bizarre, a pair of bat wings, black as wrought iron, sprouted from its back.

Its jet-black skin was covered in countless cracked fissures, from which icy blue light flickered. Its skin was as rough as mountain rock, exuding a chilling aura, and a halo of frost had frozen the scorched earth around it.

Most terrifying of all, the creature had a human face, twisted in a ferocious expression, with eyes as red and bright as rubies.

One of the four great rulers of the Inferno: the Frost Demon Lord.

In the chaotic and evil "Inferno," the four demon lords command millions of demons, wielding world-destroying power. They are the royalty among demons, embodiments of terror and evil.

And at this moment, this Frost Demon Lord was actually imprisoned.

"Demon Lord, Walter Harrison, choose purification or annihilation."

A massive platinum sphere of light floated in the air. At its center, a vague humanoid figure could be seen. The voice emanated from within the sphere, utterly devoid of emotion, tinged with divinity, like the tolling of a bell cleansing all sin, echoing and spreading through the air. Hundreds of lesser demons in the distance, just beginning to reconstitute their bodies, were instantly reduced to ash by the sound.

"The Odin pantheon are all deceivers, tearing up the ancient truce between the gods! All just to seize an advantage before that so-called 'Twilight' arrives!" the demon lord roared.

The figure in the sphere replied, "Under the prophecy of Twilight, there will be no more peace in this world. The divine radiance will no longer tolerate darkness and shadow. All evil can only end in annihilation."

"Cowardly weaklings, using good and evil as an excuse—hypocrites! I would rather be annihilated than be purified by you selfish, false gods and turned into a puppet warrior in Valhalla!"

The demon lord unleashed all his power. Frosty mist erupted from the fissures in his rocky skin, condensing into an intense, icy blue flame. Behind him appeared a gigantic phantom, identical in appearance, towering to the sky.

Like frenzied serpents, the raging frost power twisted and coiled in midair, transforming into countless chains etched with icy blue runes, wrapping around the phantom's massive arms.

The chains whipped wildly in the surging energy. From afar, it looked as if he held hundreds of unwilling blue lightning bolts in his hands—except this lightning was bone-chillingly cold.

The array could no longer restrain him. The demon lord suddenly stood up, and the array exploded into a shower of light.

"Frostfire," a blend of extreme cold and heat, wreathed his entire body. The demon lord's four hooves sank deep into the ground as his surging power roared and raged, shaking the earth and mountains.

"Even if I am annihilated, I will defile your divinity!" the demon lord bellowed.

The sphere of light blazed even brighter. Lines of divine script circled around it like inscriptions of praise. The sacred hymns of believers appeared out of thin air—clear, ethereal, cleansing the sins of the Inferno. Even the sky gradually brightened.

Yet, behind the blood-red clouds, what appeared was not the blue sky one might expect, but a shattered, mirror-like galaxy. The stars were twisted, wailing faces, silently accusing, crowding the sky, declaring that this was the Inferno, not a peaceful human world.

Suddenly, a bright meteor streaked across the blood-red sky, splitting it in two and quickly vanishing into the distance.

"A newborn of that race has arrived!" the demon lord cried out inwardly. "Centuries of effort—today, I can finally reap the reward!"