Devouring Dragon Heir-Chapter 30: Ch Remenants of the past

The metallic taste of Yeti blood, mixed with the chilling air of the Frost Fang Dungeon, lingered on Klaus’s tongue.

It was a visceral reminde,

a sensory trigger that forcibly pulled his mind away from the triumphs of the present and dragged it, unwillingly, back into the painful memories of his past life on Earth.

"I still remember the taste of my blood when he kicked my face that day" Klaus said

The exhaustion from his prolonged battle against the Yeti monsters, combined with the sudden, sharp flavour, had lowered his defences, allowing the dormant psychological scars to surface.

He closed his eyes, as he remembered the few fragments of his past life, Had he been powerful at that time, had he been more powerful, rich or lucky he might not have suffered such a fate.

The icy throne, the vanquished monsters, and the system notifications all faded, replaced by the stark, unforgiving memory of a life he had desperately tried to forget.

Klaus was born into a household that was, in every sense of the word, poor.

Not just financially, though money was a constant suffocating concern, but poor in warmth, in understanding, in any semblance of familial harmony.

His parents were fundamentally incompatible, two individuals bound together by circumstance rather than affection, and their incompatibility manifested daily in loud,

bitter arguments that echoed through their cramped apartment.

These fights were a relentless soundtrack to Klaus’s childhood, a symphony of discontent that drowned out any possibility of peace.

Their attention, when it wasn’t consumed by their squabbles, was focused on their struggles, leaving Klaus largely neglected.

He was just a burden, this thought was not made up by him, but an actual feeling expressed by his parents occasionally in the form of words or physical abuse.

Due to this perpetual neglect, and the suffocating atmosphere of constant conflict at home, Klaus grew into a profoundly quiet child.

He lacked the basic emotional scaffolding that builds confidence. He never learned to assert himself, to speak up, to believe in his worth.

This translated directly into his school life, where he became an easy, predictable target for bullies.

The playground, the hallways, even the walk to and from school, became minefields of potential torment.

He was mocked for his worn clothes, for his hesitant speech, for the way he hunched his shoulders as if constantly bracing for a blow.

The taunts, shoves, and occasional beatings chipped away at any remaining shred of self-esteem he might have possessed.

He became isolated, an outcast even among children.

His classmates seemed to instinctively sense his vulnerability, and they exploited it with a casual cruelty that festered in his young mind.

His only refuge, his sole escape from the grinding reality of his existence, was found within the pages of web novels and the vibrant, fantastical worlds of anime.

In these fictional universes, characters faced incredible odds but found strength, forged unbreakable friendships, and discovered profound love.

They had caring mentors, loyal companions, and a clear purpose.

They were heroes, not overlooked, timid boys.

Klaus immersed himself in these stories, living vicariously through their triumphs, imagining himself in their shoes, yearning for even a fraction of the happiness and connection they depicted.

He read tales of cultivation, of adventurers exploring dungeons, of individuals gaining inconceivable powers and reshaping their destinies.

The contrast between these thrilling narratives and his own mundane, miserable life was stark, yet it was the only source of joy he knew.

He spent hours, late into the night, reading by the dim glow of his phone, ignoring the sounds of his parents’ arguments, dreaming of a world where he was strong, where he was valued.

The bullying, however, did not remain confined to the schoolyard.

It escalated, becoming more intense, more pervasive.

The primary bully, a stocky boy named Rohan with an unnervingly cruel smirk, and his small gang, began to follow Klaus home, extending their torment beyond school hours.

They would demand his meager lunch money, shove him into puddles, or simply stand over him, laughing as he cowered.

The fear became a constant companion, a knot in his stomach that never truly loosened.

One particularly humiliating incident, where Rohan and his friends publicly stripped him of his shoes and clothes made him walk throughout the school during break hours when the teacher was not present, pushed Klaus to a breaking point.

He decided, with a surge of desperate courage he didn’t know he possessed, to finally complain to the police.

He imagined justice, a system that would protect him, that would intervene where his parents wouldn’t.

He walked to the local police station, his small heart pounding with a mixture of fear and fragile hope, and meticulously recounted the incidents, naming Rohan and his friends.

He waited, a flicker of optimism in his eyes, believing that help would finally come.

Alas, the country he lived in was a place where corruption was not an exception, but a pervasive, deeply ingrained reality.

The police force, like many other institutions, was riddled with corrupt officials who prioritized influence and bribes over justice for the common citizen.

Rohan’s parents, it turned out, were not just wealthy, they were influential figures, with deep connections within the local administration and, crucially, within the police department itself.

The very next day, instead of the protection and warmth Klaus had desperately expected, the consequences of his actions came crashing down upon him.

Two uniformed police officers, stern-faced and unyielding, arrived at his parents’ doorstep. They didn’t come to offer assistance.

Instead, they brought with them a thinly veiled threat from Rohan’s influential parents.

They informed Klaus’s parents, in no uncertain terms, that if the First Information Report (FIR) filed by

Klaus was not immediately withdrawn, there would be severe repercussions.

Financial penalties, obstacles to their already precarious jobs, and even vague threats to their safety were implied.

The police officers, complicit in this display of power, simply stood by, their expressions unreadable.

That day, the day he had hoped for justice, Klaus received a different kind of retribution.

Instead of the understanding and solace he had yearned for from his family, he got beaten.

Not by strangers, but by both his father and his mother.

Their faces were contorted not with sympathy, but with anger and frustration.

His father, usually distant, grabbed him roughly, his eyes blazing with fury. "You trash! What have you done?" he roared, each word punctuated by a slap or a punch.

His mother, who rarely showed any emotion towards him beyond indifference, joined in, her voice shrill with accusations.

"You bring us difficulties! You’re useless! Can’t you even go to school without causing trouble?"

Her blows were less powerful than his father’s, but each one felt like a shattering of his last hopes.

They called him a "trash," an "idiot," for daring to disrupt their already unstable lives.

The physical pain was searing, but the emotional agony was far worse.

The people who should have protected him, who should have offered solace, were inflicting the very pain he had sought to escape.

Klaus was just fifteen years old then. His world had been incredibly small, confined mostly to the four walls of his apartment and the school grounds.

He had not truly seen much of the broader world, had not experienced its vastness or its diverse people.

But his formative years, his precious, irreplaceable youth, had been consumed by the escapist worlds of web novels and anime.

In those fictional realms, the main characters consistently forged sweet, unbreakable relationships, bonds of friendship and love that transcended hardship.

They had companions who stood by them, families who supported them. Klaus had none of that.

His reality was a harsh contrast.

He had no one.

He had done nothing, he felt, to deserve this terrible feeling.

What the fuck he had done to deserve this? He asked himself this question repeatedly that night, as his parents’ blows subsided, and he lay curled on the floor, weeping his blood silently.

His fifteen years flashed by his eyes in a torrent of despair.

Every instance of neglect, every taunt, every solitary meal, every tear shed in private, every unfulfilled yearning.

He remembered longing for small things: a kind word, a shared laugh, a gentle touch.

He remembered watching other children play, their joy a foreign concept.

He remembered the sting of loneliness, a constant ache in his chest that grew heavier with each passing year.

He also wanted caring parents, parents who would listen to him, hug him, and tell him he was loved.

He wanted good friends, individuals who would stand by him, share adventures with him, not mock him or abandon him.

He also wanted love in his life, a genuine connection, a partner who would see past his flaws and cherish him for who he was.

Then why, he screamed internally,

why, why,

Why did he always get those disdainful stares from everyone?

Even his juniors, children younger than him, mocked him with impunity, calling him "loser"

"What a pathetic, miserable life it has been." He looked at his bruised and aching body, and his spirit had been crushed.

He reached a chilling conclusion that night, lying in the cold,

unforgiving silence of his room.

"It’s better to die by my hand" he thought,

He did not want to give this pleasure to the bullies because the level of assault was growing day by day, it would not be late before he gets killed by the bullies by mistake.

The thought, once terrifying, now offered a perverse comfort, a sense of control over his end.

The idea of ending the suffering, of escaping the constant pain, became a whisper in the darkest corners of his mind.

-----

Klaus remembered all this with closed eyes as he sat on the throne smeared with blood,

A tear drop escaped his closed eyes, as he introspected his himself he felt a burden lighten, not because he had forgiven the people who had been responsible, but the change this suffering would bring in his self.

He knew that the day was not far when he would control time and space to travel to the earth and punish those people he had promised himself.

The grip on his hand tightened as he made a mental note.

Though even after being transmigrated the heavenly will had made him suffer.

But this thought didn’t break him, but made his willpower and resolve stronger.

"My retribution is the only thing that matters now, the univerese, the demons, the world, the heroes, the villans, the monsters, the gods, the cosmic entities all can fuck off" klaus said as his ice cold eyes opened.

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