I have no enemies left.
Alive.
The Elves, Orcs, Dwarves, Giants, Titans, Demi-Humans… Entire civilizations, histories, bloodlines — all extinguished by my hand.
The Sea-Beasts of the Abyss. The triple-headed Cerberus of the End Realm. The Plaguemera and Nightmera that devoured realms through disease and dream alike. Even the self-proclaimed gods who watched from beyond the stars — they died screaming long before they could even grasp my name.
They all fell.
They all had to.
Now, only one race remains: Humans.
And above them… only I.
I stood at the highest balcony of my palace, the Throne of Horizon, gazing into the golden-red dusk that bled over my empire. My empire — a world built upon blood.
The wind brushed past my cloak, soft and gentle.
I took off my crown — forged from the bones of star-kings — and let the wind toy with my hair. Even now, my instincts flickered, my mana scanned for threats. But there were none.
Only silence… and peace.
A peace that felt wrong.
I do not know the feeling of losing. Not once. Not ever.
From the moment I opened my eyes in this world, I was an anomaly. Born with power. Raised with supremacy. Crowned as the singular being beyond comparison. Enemies were not obstacles — they were entertainment, fleeting in their resistance.
The distance between me and them was not of inches, nor miles — but galaxies.
For 27 years I reign supreme.
I was the apex predator in a world that had nothing left to offer.
Even the Demon Lord — the one hope of equilibrium — fell in hours. Not from my magic alone, but from my Hyperplasticity and necromancy. My instinct, my curse, tore through his evolutions before they began. He couldn't adapt faster than I did. No one could.
And that… was the final disappointment.
There were no more wars. No more uprisings. No gods left to question me.
There was nothing left to kill.
And so, it was time my reign ended.
I took a step forward.
The polished marble beneath me bore the weight of the man who once stood above worlds. Yet now… each footstep felt hollow. Lighter. Not from peace — but from pointlessness.
As I neared the balcony's edge, I stared at the endless sea below — once filled with leviathans and abyssal horrors. Now? Still. Reflective. Beautiful.
How pitiful.
In the perfect world I ruled, there was no challenge left.
And in perfection… I lost myself.
My gaze lingered across the horizon, remembering what once was: armies reduced to ash, gods begging for mercy, stars I destroyed for fun. My Hyperplasticity — the instinct that made me unstoppable — had done its job too well. It broke down every wall, every limit, until even the concept of struggle became a joke.
I was born flawless.
I ruled flawlessly.
I died… because of it.
The wind howled as I stepped off the edge.
I didn't hesitate. There was no fear. Only one wish echoed in my mind as I fell:
"Let me be born flawed."
The sea rose to meet me like a long-awaited lover. And as I hit the water, I felt no pain — only distance.
Distance between me and the world I had conquered.
The stars above dimmed. The laws of my universe began to warp and fray, as though reality itself was letting go of me. Pulling me deeper, darker — into an abyss no magic could define.
The deepest depths of the cosmos…Where even light forgets to exist.
-- You Have Reached The Unknown Ending --
-- Accept -- Reject --
I did not hesitate.
Accept.
And then...
I awoke.
My eyes opened slowly. The ceiling above me was unfamiliar — plain, white, mundane. I breathed… and felt weakness.
My body was smaller. My senses dulled. My mana?
Gone.
I sat up sharply, instinctively reaching for aetheric threads — but found only flesh and air. My heart pounded with human rhythm.
This… isn't my world.
There were no castles. No mana in the air. No magic in the blood. Only silence... and gravity.
My hand trembled as I held it up to the morning light, examining it.
Looking outside I noticed moving objects, people on small clickable instruments and an unknown room that had things I've never seen in my life.
A new world. A new body.
But one thing… remained.
Deep in the marrow of this foreign flesh, I felt it — a pulse, a burn, a violent instinct clawing to survive.
Hyperplasticity.
Not under my control. Not something I could summon. It was in me. A curse disguised as evolution. It was already reading this world, dismantling, reshaping… preparing.
And it would never stop until I became perfect again.
But this time — without gifts.
Without power.
Just the mind of a former Emperor…
...in the body of an average 18-year-old.
A flawed human.
Perfect.