The Afterlife…

A time of eternal rest and peace for the deceased.

A world filled with the souls of the dead, governed by powerful beings known as "Spirits".

For thousands of years, this realm was ruled by the seven great noble families.

Mammon of the North

Asmodeus of the Skies

Beelzebub of South

Lucifer of the East

Leviathan of the Seas

Belphegore of the West

And Samael, of the Flames

These great familes ruled over the next world, maintaining peace and prosperity for the deceased souls.

The Afterlife…was a time of happiness for those that left the world of the living.

A paradise for those who had passed on.


Everything changed when Lucifer invaded the north.

The new head of the noble clan, Ruthalt Lucifer, who would in time become known as the Black King, gathered an army of Souls and Sprits and invaded the Mammon clan's land, claiming the territory as his own.

That one act, lit the spark that would turn the Afterlife into a fiery Hell.

The brotherhood of clans that once preserved the peace of the world, now waged battle after battle with each other.

The Afterlife, once a place of resting and peace for the dead, was now a bloody battle ground plagued with chaos and terror.

A wasteland of bloodshed.

Then, Samael acted.

At the height of the war, when all seven clans battled with each other. Samael cast a spell.

Banishing all Seven Kings of the Afterlife from the world, including himself.

Years passed

The Afterlife finally found peace again.

No longer was the world a place of beauty and purity…but there was serenity.

With the former Nobel Families gone from the world, a new order appeared.

The new order of Kings, supervised and advised by a council of Spirits, ruled over the realm.

For a hundred years, the Afterlife enjoyed a time of prosperity.

However, when the current King passed away in the cycle of reincarnation, the Afterlife was left without a King.

So the council, desperate to find someone worthy of being King, sent seven spirits into the world of the living.

There, they would find the descendents of the once great noble families.

One of them would become King.

King of the Afterlife

King of the dead


Rumble Royal

The sun was beginning to set in the small city. Shadows fell over the paved streets as the light sunk behind the towering buildings in the distance. The tree's lining the sides of the street rustled slightly as a soft wind blew through the area.

The calm was disturbed when a pained cry pierced through the quiet neighborhood, followed by a loud crashing sound.

A large man lay hunched over, his back leaning against a dented trash bin, groaning with blood dripping from a bent nose. The man's three friends stood staring in shock.

"W-what the…He just sent Jace flying!" One of the men exclaimed.

"He must have been thrown back ten feet!" Another continued, "Who the hell is this guy?" He asked, turning to stare at a young man standing a short distance in front of the group of men. The young man glared at the three in front of him, his pure white hair swaying in front of his narrowed red eyes.

"Hey you little punk! You think you can get away with kicking Jace in the face like that!? You know who you're messing with? We're the Archangel gang, we own these streets!"

The young man cocked his head slightly, his expression remaining unchanged. Reaching up, he scratched the back of his head, sighing.

"Huuuuuh…A couple of dropout shits group together and call themselves a gang. Geez…that's lame…" he muttered.

One of the thugs gritted his teeth in irritation, "What was that? Why you…" He suddenly lunged forward, "Let's see you make comments like that with a smashed face!" Nearing the young man, the gang member swung his fist at the teenagers head.

The white haired young man didn't even blink as he reached up and grabbed the fist out of the air. The thugs eyes widened as the young man turned his hand slightly. He cried out as he was forced to his knees, grabbing his twisted wrist.

"L-leggo!" He shouted, trying to pry his arm away, "Let go you-!" he froze when he saw the bottom of a shoe hovering inches from his face.

The thug screamed as he was sent flying back from the kick. He landed on his back and slid back across the street, stopping at the feet of his friends.

"M-matt?" One asked nervously, looking down at the unmoving form of his friend, "Y-you okay?"

"Oh god…" The other remaining gang member whispered hoarsely, "Now I remember why he seems so familiar." he said, staring at the white haired young man.

"Wha?" The other one said, turning to him.

"White hair and red eyes." The other continued, "I've heard rumors around town about this guy."

Suddenly looking terrified, he took a step back, "H-he's Avalon High's Dagon Samael! The one they call a demon!"

"Samael?" The other thug repeated, turning back to the teenager "Are you kidding-" he was cut off when a fist slammed into the side of his face.

"A-aahha…" The last remaining gang member gurgled in fright as he watched his friend fall to the ground. Lowering his fist, Dagon Samael glanced over his shoulder at him, narrowing his eyes.

"W-wait…" The thug stammered, stepping back with his hands raised, "We're sorry we tried to rob you! We won't do it again!" tripping, he fell back onto the ground, "S-stay away!" Dagon turned to face the man completely. After a moment, his eyes drifted over to the trash bin a few feet. Slowly, a twisted smile spread across his face.

"You damned pieced of trash," he stood over the trembling thug, his eyes shining with bloodlust, "I know exactly what to do with you!"

As the sun continued to set over the city, pained groans could be heard from the inside of a trash bin on the side of the road.

"T-that guy…he's totally evil…" One gang member groaned.

"He definitely not human…he's gotta be a demon…"

High above the street where the fight had taken place, on the roof of a tall building, stood a young woman. Looking down at the white haired teenager walking further and further away, her eyes narrowed in disapproval. She cocked her head slightly, one arm resting on the sheath of the sword strapped horizontally across her lower back.


Dagon closed his eyes and yawned as he opened the front door to the house and kicked off his shoes.

"Hey, I'm ho-" the teenager fell back when a metal soup ladle hit the center of his face. Landing on the floor he flailed about violently, "Ah ha ah! That's hot! It burns! Ow ow ow!" He cried, clutching is nose.

"You're late again Dagon!" an irritated feminine voice growled. A young woman in her mid twenties stepped into the hallway, her hands on her hips, "Didn't I say I don't like you being out after it gets dark?"

Rubbing his burned face, Dagon scowled, sitting up and glaring at the woman, "Oi Sis! What the hell's the deal, throwing a burning hot piece of metal at me!?" The woman was about to respond but was interrupted by another voice.

"What's going on honey? Is Dagon back?" A young man around the woman's age entered the hallway. He raised an eyebrow when he saw Dagon sitting on the floor, scowling. The woman frowned at him.

"Nothing dear, just talking with my stupid baby brother."

"Who're calling a stupid baby!?"

The man smiled, "Well, can you do that later and help me set up the table Joan?" he nodded at the white hared teenager, "Come on Dagon, dinners ready."

Joan smiled. "Sure thing dear," She said. Frowning she turned to Dagon, "Get up off the floor and come eat."

Dagon scowled and threw the ladle back at her. Joan calmly reached up and grabbed it before it hit her. Turning around she wiped it off on her apron.

"Let's go, we're having soup."

The stars shined brightly in the night sky through the houses window. Joan sat at the table, one hand holding a magazine while resting her head on the other. She glanced at Dagon, doing the dishes at the sink.

"Make sure you actually wash them and not just pour water all over them." she told him. Dagon just grunted in response. Ignoring her brother's irritation she continued.

"Oh, and if you go out tomorrow I'm going to need you to pick up a few things for me and-"

"No." Dagon cut her off mid sentence.

"Ahh…?" Joan eyes twitched. A moment later Dagon grimaced he heard someone step up behind him

"What was that? 'No' you say?" Joan stood over him, fuming, "You little brat. I let you live in my house out of the goodness of my heart and you just refuse me like that? I ought to kick you out on the street you ungrateful little-"

"Cut it out." Dagon interrupted, "I'm busy tomorrow," His hands, circulating the dishes with a rag, slowed, and eventually stopping completely. "I'm…going to visit Mom tomorrow."

Joan calmed and looked down at her brother. She stared at his back for a moment before letting out a breath.

"Oh, you were?" Walking back to the table, she sat back down in her seat, "…I…don't suppose I should come with you?"

"I'll go alone," Dagon replied, his voice firm. The teenager stared down at the running water in front of him for a moment. He blinked when a hand suddenly fell on his shoulder. He turned his head to see his sister giving him a soft smile.

"Just make sure you don't give her anything to worry about alright? And say hi for me."

Dagon stared at her in surprise for a moment before nodding, a small smile on his face. Before he could say anything however, the sound of the door opening and closing echoed throughout the house.

"I have returned!" A loud voice shouted. Dagon groaned and ran a hand through his hair.

"Oh great…it' him."

"Where is that good for nothing boy!?" The voice demanded. Dagon's eye twitched.

Joan smiled maliciously and turned to the kitchens door, "Dagon's in here Grandpa!"

"Bitch," He hissed at her. She just stuck her tongue out at him.

"Aha! The hunt is on!" The voice replied. Growling Dagon made a mad dash for the exit. However, just before he reached he reached it, and elderly man slid to a stop on the other side of the door, holding a broom.

"There you are!" the man shouted. Dagon grimaced and jumped back just as the end of the broom came swinging at his head.

"Don't think you can get away that easily!" The old man shouted, stepping forward and raising the broom over his head. Dagon gritted his teeth and crossed his arms in front of himself, blocking the pole from hitting him. The teenager glared at the old man as he tried to force him back.

"Damn it Gramps! Do you have to do this every day!?"

"Che, if I didn't take the time to toughen you up , you'd be a pathetic little cry baby." The old man smirked.

"Shut up! Why can't you be like other old guys and just sit in a corner and complain about life! Damn! You're like two hundred years old! You shouldn't be able to move like this!"

"What was that!?" The old man replied. Stepping back and swinging the broom sideways at Dagon, "How dare you insult me! I'm still in my prime you brat!"

"Your prime was over a century ago!" Dagon shouted back, grabbing the broom as it was swung at him and trying to yank it out of the old man's grasp. As the fight continued, Joan's husband entered the room, glancing nervously at the two.

"Uh Arthur, could you guys not fight in here. You might break some things,"

"Ah leave 'em alone Jack," Joan said to her husband, watching Dagon and Arthur.

"A-are you sure?" Jack's question was soon followed by a large crash.

"Owwww! That hurt you damn old man!"

"Don't be such a wimp you little girl!"

The street was darkened as some clouds floated in front of the moon. A young woman stood on the roof of a large house, looking down through the open window of the house next door. A young teenager with pure white hair was sleeping soundly.

The woman's eyes suddenly narrowed when she heard a soft rustling sound. Her hand grasped the handle of her sword. A moment passed and nothing happened. After a minute a stray cat jumped out some bushes below. Seeing it, the woman relaxed and let her hand fall from her sword.

Glancing away from the cat she briefly glanced at the boy again before looking up at the stars.