1000 Years Later… And This Maou Still Can’t Catch a Break?!

The End of an Era

The world was ending.

At least, that's what everyone thought.

Flames consumed the once-great kingdom of Eldoria, reduced to nothing but rubble and screams. The skies, once clear and blue, were now a swirling abyss of darkness and crimson lightning. The ground itself trembled under the weight of an impending apocalypse.

And at the center of it all—standing high above the battlefield, draped in a cloak of shadows—was the Demon Lord of Eternal Night, Leonard Nightfall.

Eyes glowing like molten blood, silver hair billowing in the infernal winds, he gazed down at his enemy with an expression of mild irritation.

Below him, amidst the carnage, stood the last hope of humanity—the Hero of Light.

Battered, bloodied, and barely standing, the Hero raised his legendary sword, its holy light flickering like a dying candle. His armor was shattered, his allies fallen, and yet… he still had the nerve to grin.

Leonard sighed, crossing his arms.

"You do realize this is futile, right?"

The Hero wiped blood from his mouth, his smirk unwavering.

"Maybe. But I still have one last trick."

Leonard raised an eyebrow. He had seen this scenario a thousand times. Some desperate last-minute gamble. Some divine intervention. Some hidden trump card that would 'turn the tide of battle.'

Blah, blah, blah.

"Oh?" Leonard leaned forward, voice dripping with sarcasm. "Let me guess. You're about to pull out a forbidden spell of untold power? A technique lost to the ages? Or maybe—gasp—you've unlocked the true potential of friendship?"

The Hero just smirked harder.

And then he started chanting.

The moment the ancient words left the Hero's lips, the air crackled. A deep, guttural hum resonated through the battlefield. The skies split open, revealing a swirling vortex of golden light.

For the first time in centuries, Leonard felt something strange.

Not fear, of course.

Just… mild concern.

"Huh." He scratched his chin. "That actually looks like it might be a problem."

The golden vortex expanded, the entire battlefield shaking as the very fabric of space began to unravel. The ground split apart, soldiers and monsters alike tumbling into the abyss as the light swallowed everything.

Leonard frowned. This wasn't some divine smite or holy attack. It was something else.

A time-space distortion?

Before he could analyze further, the vortex surged forward—straight at him.

"Oh, come on—"

And then—

Everything went white.

---

A Thousand Years Later...

Sunlight.

A gentle breeze.

Birds chirping in distance.

Leonard's eyelids twitched. His body felt... weird.

The last thing he remembered was the battlefield—the screams, the holy incantation, the swirling vortex—

And now he was… lying on grass?

His eyes snapped open.

Instead of a war-torn wasteland, he found himself staring at a bright blue sky, the gentle sway of tree branches above him.

The Demon Lord of Eternal Night slowly sat up.

Something was very, very wrong.

First off—where was the stench of blood? Where were the burning cities? Where was the distant sound of terrified mortals crying out his name in fear?

Instead, the only sound was the faint rustling of leaves…

Leonard frowned. This didn't make any sense.

Had the spell transported him somewhere else? Some hidden pocket dimension?

He instinctively reached up to adjust his horns—

And grabbed nothing.

Leonard froze.

Slowly, cautiously, he patted his head.

No horns.

His crimson eyes narrowed. He looked down at his hands—no claws. No dark markings. No hellfire crackling beneath his skin.

His overwhelming demonic aura—gone.

His majestic, terrifying, abyssal Demon Lord presence—GONE.

Leonard's eye twitched.

"…This is blasphemy."

A butterfly landed on his head.

He violently swatted it away.

Stumbling to his feet, he hurried toward a nearby pond, staring at his reflection.

Gone was the terrifying shadow-wreathed demon king.

Instead, a ridiculously handsome young man with striking black hair and piercing red eyes stared back at him.

"What... in the actual hells... is this!?"

Sure, he still had his power—but now he looked like some pretty-boy noble who spends too much time in front of a mirror.

This was humiliating.

He tried summoning a wave of dark energy—a massive tree exploded into dust.

Leonard blinked.

"…Okay. Power's still there."

He tried summoning a throne of bones—instead, he accidentally summoned a horse-sized skeletal dragon that immediately collapsed into a pile of bones.

"…Could use some fine-tuning."

But the bigger issue remained: Nobody was going to take him seriously looking like this.

How was he supposed to instill terror when he looked like he just walked out of a noble's ballroom?

Unacceptable.

Leonard took a deep breath. Okay. Focus.

First, he needed to figure out where he was. Then, he'd find a way to restore his true form and resume his conquest.

Simple.

…Except.

As he turned toward the distant village, another thought struck him.

A truly terrifying realization.

One that sent a chill down his spine.

"…Do I even have money?"

A strong breeze passed through the meadow.

Leonard stood there, staring blankly, as the true horror of the situation settled in.

He was broke.

A broke Demon Lord.

Alone. In a mysteriously peaceful world.

With no army, no castle, and no idea what the hell was going on.

"…"

"Tch."

Leonard sighed, brushing dust off his cloak.

"Fine. I suppose world domination can wait until I find something to eat, and place to sleep."

With that, the most overpowered Demon Lord in history took his first step toward his greatest challenge yet—

Surviving a normal life.