Surviving in the Demon's Academy as a Human

His fist colliding with Aiden's torso. The force was overwhelming. Aiden's body soared across the room, slamming into a display case with a sickening crash. He gasped for air, his vision blurred from the sheer impact.

Zepharion strolled toward him, his boots echoing against the polished floor. The demon bent down and plucked the gun from Aiden's hand. With a casual squeeze, the weapon crumpled into useless scraps of metal.

"Nice toy," Zepharion said mockingly.

The crowd erupted into cheers, their chants growing louder as they urged him on. Zepharion turned to face them, a satisfied grin spreading across his face. He raised a hand in acknowledgment, basking in the adoration.

"More!" someone shouted.

"Show the human his place!"

Zepharion's golden eyes glimmered with sadistic delight as he turned back to Aiden. "Hear that? They want a show."

Aiden struggled to rise, blood dripping from his mouth, but Zepharion didn't give him the chance. Another blow sent him sprawling across the floor. Insults rained down as Zepharion toyed with him, landing punches and kicks with calculated precision.

From the sidelines, Seraphina's voice rang out, desperate and pleading. "Stop this, Zepharion! Let him go!"

Zepharion's ears perked at her words. He turned, his gaze locking onto the princess. Her usual arrogance had melted away, replaced by genuine concern. She stepped forward, her regal demeanor faltering as she clasped her hands together.

"Oh? The proud princess, begging? How delightful," Zepharion said, his tone dripping with mockery.

Seraphina flinched but didn't retreat. "Please, you've proven your strength. Let him go!"

Zepharion tilted his head, a wicked grin forming on his lips. He grabbed Aiden by the hair, lifting him effortlessly off the ground. Aiden groaned weakly, barely conscious and spitting blood.

"If you want me to release him," Zepharion said, his voice low and menacing, "kneel. Put your head to the floor."

The crowd fell silent, their eyes darting between Zepharion and Seraphina.

Seraphina's face burned with humiliation, but she looked at Aiden, battered and broken, and knew she had no choice. Slowly, she sank to her knees, her head bowing until it touched the cold, hard floor.

Zepharion's laughter echoed through the museum. "What a sight! The princess of arrogance, groveling at my feet. This is better than I imagined."

Aiden's fists clenched weakly, his heart aching as much for Seraphina's humiliation as for his own pain.

Aiden's POV:

Aiden lay crumpled on the cold floor of the museum, his body wracked with pain from Zepharion's relentless blows. Every breath felt like fire in his chest, and his vision blurred as blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. Amidst the jeers and laughter of the demon crowd, Aiden's thoughts drifted inward, escaping the chaos around him.

Why did it come to this? he wondered bitterly. All he had wanted was to blend in with the demons at this hellish academy. He had told himself that if he stayed in the shadows, avoided drawing attention, maybe—just maybe—they would let him be. He had promised himself he would survive by clinging to Lilith's protection, hiding behind her like a shield. But now, here he was, broken and humiliated.

His mind wandered back to Earth, to the memories of his mother. Her warm smile, her gentle words of comfort, the way she would hum softly as she worked. Those moments had been his sanctuary, a time of peace and simplicity. He remembered her voice, so full of love and hope, saying, "Promise me you'll live. Don't let this darkness consume you. You… you deserve happiness."

A sharp pang of regret pierced his heart. He had failed her. He hadn't been able to do enough for her, to support her the way she deserved. And now, in this hellish place, he had broken the one promise that mattered most: to live a good life. Instead, he was here, drowning in despair and helplessness.

Through his hazy vision, he saw Seraphina kneeling, her head pressed to the ground as she begged Zepharion to let him go. The sight twisted something deep inside him. Why am I even here? Why did I try to save her? A bitter laugh echoed in his mind. I can't even save myself.

His memories shifted again, this time to the whispers. Those dark, insidious murmurs that had come to him before, promising power—offering him a way to survive in this world of demons. If only I were stronger, he thought. If only I had trained harder, endured more, maybe I wouldn't be so weak. Maybe I could turn this around.

And then, like a serpent coiling around his thoughts, the whisper came again. Soft and seductive, it slithered into his ear: "Do you need power?"

Yes.

The moment those words left his lips, a palpable shift rippled through the museum. The jeers and laughter of the crowd fell silent, replaced by an oppressive stillness. Every demon in the room froze, their eyes wide with shock and unease. They could feel it—a power awakening within Aiden, raw and immense, unlike anything they had encountered before.

This wasn't just a Hell's blessing. It was something far more potent, something that radiated with an oppressive force that made even the most arrogant demons tremble. Zepharion, who moments ago had reveled in his dominance, took an involuntary step back, his confident smirk faltering as he felt the surge of energy emanating from Aiden's battered body.

Aiden's wounds began to heal before their eyes, the bruises fading, the blood ceasing to flow. His body radiated with a dark, otherworldly light as intricate demonic runes materialized around him, floating and shifting like a protective aura. The crowd murmured in awe and fear, their earlier mockery replaced with hushed reverence.

A professor, one of the academy's most learned scholars, stepped forward cautiously. His eyes widened as he analyzed the runes. "This… this is no ordinary blessing. These runes… they are granting him abilities. Hell itself is responding to his desire, fulfilling his truest wish."

Aiden's eyes snapped open, now glowing with an eerie intensity. His voice, though quiet, carried an unshakable determination. "All I wanted," he said, his words cutting through the heavy silence, "was the smile of the people I want to protect!"

Hell heard his words and responded. The power surged through Aiden, transforming him further. An aura of red, writhing tendrils surrounded him, pulsating with an overwhelming energy. The tendrils twisted and coiled around him, their movements both graceful and menacing, as though alive with purpose. The room grew heavier, the oppressive power forcing every demon to their knees, unable to bear its weight.

Zepharion's legs trembled uncontrollably. The proud demon, once basking in the cheers of the crowd, now stood frozen in fear. His arrogance crumbled as he stared at Aiden, the human who now wielded a power that seemed to rival even the mightiest of demons.

Aiden raised his hand, pointing a single finger at Zepharion. His golden-yellow eyes burned like twin suns, and his voice rang out, calm yet thunderous, resonating with an unearthly echo. He began to chant, each line weaving a spell as ancient as Hell itself:

"From the depths of despair, I rise anew, To shield the weak from fiends like you. Through shadows deep, my strength ignites, A beacon shining in endless nights. Hear now the name of this fateful hour, I call upon… Crimson Veil's Devouring Power!"

The moment he finished, the aura around him erupted in a dazzling display of crimson and black. The tendrils shot forward like serpents, wrapping around Zepharion with incredible speed. Each tendril carried an otherworldly heat that seared through Zepharion's defenses, bypassing his natural resistance as a demon.

Zepharion screamed, a sound that echoed through the museum and sent shivers down the spines of every demon present. The tendrils coiled tighter, their energy ripping away at his strength, leaving him utterly drained. The oppressive force made him feel small, powerless, and utterly insignificant.

And then, something unexpected happened. The tendrils didn't just sap Zepharion's strength; they began to alter him. Pain erupted through his body, far worse than any he had felt before. It was as though his very essence was being reshaped, torn apart and reconstructed.

Zepharion collapsed to the floor, gasping for air. The agony subsided just enough for him to regain his senses. He looked down at his trembling hands, only to freeze in shock. His once-proud, muscular frame had been replaced with a lithe and curvaceous form. Two mounds of flesh now adorned his chest, their presence undeniable.

He has became a woman.