The first thing I noticed wasn't the silk sheets worth more than most planets' GDP, or the bed that could comfortably fit an orgy. It was my hands. Pale, elegant, with fingers that looked like they'd never touched a keyboard but somehow knew exactly how to wrap around a throat.
I sat up, and the world shifted. Literally. I was taller—a lot taller. My body moved with a predatory grace I'd never possessed, muscles responding with perfect coordination under skin that had never seen a pimple.
"What the actual fuck," I whispered, and even my voice was different. Deeper, commanding, with an accent we commonly hear in movies 'bow before me, peasants.'
I stumbled toward what I hoped was a mirror, my new body moving like it was designed for violence and seduction in equal measure. When I saw my reflection, I nearly had a second heart attack.
Lord Raven Vex'thara stared back at me. Dark hair that belonged in a shampoo commercial, crimson eyes that seemed to glow with their own malevolent light. The kind of face that launched a thousand fan fiction stories and twice as many wet dreams.
"Holy shit," I breathed, running my hands over features that belonged on a fallen angel. "I'm fucking gorgeous."
The room around me was pure 'evil prince aesthetic.' Holographic star maps rotated lazily above a desk carved from what looked like crystallized starlight. Weapons that could level continents hung on the walls like art pieces—which, knowing Raven, they probably were. A communication array capable of reaching across galaxies hummed quietly in the corner, its interface responding to my presence before I even approached it.
Everything was black chrome and intimidating elegance. Even the bed I'd woken up in looked like it could double as a throne for passing judgment on my enemies.
This wasn't just wealth—this was power made manifest, designed to remind everyone who entered exactly who they were dealing with.
Memory fragments flickered through my mind like corrupted data files. Raven's memories, mixing with my own. The taste of expensive wine and cheaper women. The sound of planets surrendering over subspace communications. The feeling of absolute authority over millions of lives.
And underneath it all, a growing awareness that the technology around me wasn't just responding to commands—it was responding to my will.
KNOCK KNOCK
"Enter," I called, trying to sound like someone who belonged in this body instead of a dead virgin who'd never given an order more complex than 'extra cheese on my pizza.'
The door slid open with a whisper of advanced engineering, and Meus stepped through.
Every coherent thought I'd ever had immediately evacuated my brain.
The game developers hadn't just been conservative—they'd been fucking cowards. Because there was no way any rating system in existence could have handled what I was looking at.
Meus was built like someone had asked a horny god to design the perfect warrior woman and then said 'now make her twice as sexy.' Six feet of Amazonian perfection wrapped in an Imperial Guard uniform that was fighting the most hopeless battle in galactic history. Her chest strained against the military-grade fabric like it was personally offended by the concept of regulation sizing, threatening to stage a full rebellion against Imperial dress codes.
Dark skin, muscles that spoke of deadly competence, and curves that could cause traffic accidents on space highways. Every step she took was a masterclass in physics that would make scientists weep and poets write epics.
"Lord Raven," she said, dropping into a bow that nearly made me swallow my tongue. The view was... educational. "The preparations are complete."
I forced myself to meet her eyes, though it took considerable willpower and possibly divine intervention. "Preparations?"
"For Grokkies Station, my lord. As you commanded." She straightened, and I briefly wondered if the room's artificial gravity was malfunctioning because those tits seemed to defy several laws of physics. "The assault fleet awaits your signal."
Right. Grokkies Station. In the game, this was where Raven's villain arc really kicked off—a brutal orbital bombardment that would cement his reputation as a monster and set up his eventual downfall three acts later.
But I wasn't bound by the game's script anymore.
"Change of plans," I said, moving to the tactical display. "I'm not sending the fleet."
Her eyes widened—beautiful brown eyes that I definitely should have been looking at this whole time. "Sir?"
As I reached for the holographic controls, something strange happened. The display responded before I made contact, shifting and reshaping according to my thoughts. The star map zoomed in on Grokkies Station, highlighting structural weak points and defensive positions I somehow knew without ever studying them.
That definitely wasn't normal.
"My lord?" Meus stepped closer, close enough that I caught her scent—something between gunpowder and exotic flowers. "Are you alright?"
I stared at my hands. In the game, Raven had been a skilled manipulator with access to advanced technology. But this felt like something else entirely. Like the technology was an extension of my will rather than just responding to commands.
"I'm going myself," I said, my gamer instincts kicking in. "Solo run."
"My lord, that's impossible. You can't take an entire station alone—"
"Watch me." I pulled up my ship inventory through the room's interface, accessing menus that felt as natural as breathing. "The Nightshade. My personal stealth frigate."
The ship's specifications materialized in the air between us. Advanced cloaking systems, experimental weapons, and most importantly—single pilot operation with full AI support. In the game, this had been Raven's personal ride for endgame content, the kind of ship that made other players rage-quit.
"Sir, even with the Nightshade, the Grokkies have quantum regeneration systems. Their ships can rebuild from molecular damage in minutes—"
"Not after I'm done with them." I accessed Raven's personal armory, scrolling through an inventory that read like a war crimes tribunal's evidence list. "Molecular disruptor charges. Breaks down quantum signatures permanently. No regeneration, no rebuilding, no second chances."
Meus went pale, which was impressive considering her complexion. "My lord, those are banned by seventeen galactic treaties—"
"Good thing I don't give a fuck about treaties." I started loading the charges into the Nightshade's weapon systems remotely, watching as the ship's AI confirmed each illegal modification. "Perks of being daddy's favorite psychopath."
The plan was forming in my head like a perfect speedrun route. Get in fast, cripple their regeneration capabilities, then have a nice chat while their entire fleet sat dead in space. Clean, efficient, and absolutely terrifying.
"What exactly are you planning?" Meus asked, though her tone suggested she wasn't entirely sure she wanted to know.
I turned to face her fully, feeling Raven's reputation settling around me like a cloak made of other people's nightmares. "I'm going to knock on their front door and have a conversation. After I demonstrate what happens to people who keep me waiting."
The Nightshade's systems came online with a predatory hum that I felt in my bones. Stealth field generators, quantum torpedoes, and enough firepower to make a statement that would echo across the sector.
"Prep the ship for immediate departure," I ordered, surprised by how naturally the authority came to me. "And Meus?"
"Yes, my lord?"
I smiled, and even I could feel how dangerous it looked. "Clear my schedule for the next few hours. I have a reputation to maintain."
Before she could respond, the room's priority communication array chimed with an incoming transmission. The Imperial seal materialized in the air—my father's personal sigil, reserved for emergencies and executions.
"Raven." The Emperor's voice filled the room like winter itself, carrying the weight of absolute authority. "We need to talk. Now."
The transmission cut off, leaving us staring at empty air.
Meus was watching me carefully, her expression unreadable. "My lord? Your orders?"
I looked at the communication array, then at the tactical display showing Grokkies Station, then back at her magnificent... eyes. Definitely her eyes.
Time to find out what kind of villain I was going to be.