I served the god of death and destruction, and then I died. And he was transported to a world where clans and aristocratic families rule, people have superpowers, and demons have learned to inhabit everything. I ended up in the body of a fifteen-year-old teenager, Ilya Nevzorov, who was completely devoid of the Gift and did not know how to use prana. I am oppressed and despised. I have no chance of getting up. And I would probably have bent everyone over, but... I woke up in a dirty alley without clothes, and my hands were nailed to a cross. On the contrary - geeks with a nail gun, a knife and a baseball bat. Wait, what?!