The first sensation Cain felt was weight.
Not pressure.
Not pain.
But existence.
A heavy, undeniable presence pressed against his back, his arms, his legs—anchoring him to something solid. Something that did not feel simulated, filtered, or artificial.
He opened his eyes.
Darkness welcomed him.
But it was not empty darkness.
It was a throne hall—vast beyond reason, carved entirely from obsidian-black stone that reflected faint crimson light like veins of living blood beneath the surface. The ceiling was so high it disappeared into shadow, and colossal pillars lined both sides of the hall, each engraved with ancient demonic scriptures that pulsed slowly, rhythmically, as if breathing.
Cain did not move.
He simply sat.
Upon a throne that was not merely a chair—but a concept.
The throne was forged from layered black metal and crystallized shadow, its surface etched with imperial sigils older than language itself. Behind it rose a jagged backrest resembling torn wings, spreading wide as if to dominate the entire hall. From its base, invisible pressure radiated outward, declaring a single truth:
This seat belonged to an Emperor.
Cain lowered his gaze.
His body was no longer human.
Long fingers ended in refined, clawed gauntlets. His arms were clad in armor that looked grown rather than forged—black metal interwoven with crimson energy lines that glowed faintly with every heartbeat.
He clenched his fist.
The air distorted.
Mana reacted instinctively, bending toward him like a loyal subject.
"…So," Cain said quietly.
His voice was deep, layered, carrying a natural authority that did not need to be raised.
"This is what I became."
A status window manifested before him.
Not summoned.
Not activated.
It simply appeared—acknowledged by reality itself.
Name: Cain The Emperor
Race: Demon Emperor
Existence: Sovereign Reality Being
Authority Level: Absolute
Domain: Demon Emperor's Island (Isolated Realm)
Unique Authorities:
– Throne of Eternal Night
– Emperor's Dominion
– Law Suppression
– Reality Rewrite → Minor Law Authority
Innate Skills:
– Voice Creation Magic
– 12-Tier Magic Spell Authority (Unlocked — Unused)
Cain's eyes narrowed slightly.
"Minor Law Authority…" he murmured.
So the Reality Rewrite reward had not disappeared.
It had evolved.
Not enough to overwrite the universe—but enough to alter laws within defined limits.
A dangerous power.
A very dangerous one.
He leaned back into the throne.
The throne responded.
Not mechanically.
But willingly—adjusting itself to support him perfectly, like a loyal servant anticipating its master's comfort.
Cain closed his eyes briefly.
No logout button.
No system menu.
No emergency disconnect.
He pressed his fingers into the armrest.
Cold.
Solid.
Textured.
"…This isn't Eternal Quest Online anymore," he said.
This was reality.
He opened his eyes again.
And noticed—
The hall was not empty.
Standing to his right, near the lower steps of the throne, was a single figure.
Only one.
No generals.
No guards.
No army.
Just her.
She stood calmly, as if she had always been there.
Tall and graceful, her figure was wrapped in flowing crimson-and-black attire that moved like living silk. Elegant dark wings rested behind her back, their edges faintly glowing with abyssal light. Her long midnight hair framed a face both beautiful and terrifying—eyes glowing softly, carrying an enchanting gaze that could draw secrets from kings and souls from heroes.
A seductive aura clung to her presence.
Not blatant.
Not crude.
But refined.
Deadly.
She went down on one knee.
Perfect posture.
Perfect control.
"O my Emperor," she said, her voice smooth and low, echoing gently through the throne hall.
"Lyssandra Nightveil greets you."
Cain looked at her in silence.
Lyssandra Nightveil — Mistress of Midnight Whispers.
Succubus Queen.
Head of Investigation.
Master of intelligence, espionage, and unseen influence.
In the game, she had been the one who knew everything—enemy movements, internal betrayals, hidden mechanics, even secret quests the developers never intended players to discover.
Cain studied her carefully.
She wasn't frozen.
She wasn't waiting for a command prompt.
Her wings shifted subtly.
Her breathing was natural.
Her gaze… aware.
"You remember everything," Cain said.
It was not a question.
"Yes," Lyssandra replied instantly. "From the moment you created us… until now."
So their memories had continued.
There was no reset.
No wipe.
Interesting.
Cain nodded slowly.
"Then tell me," he said, his gaze sweeping across the massive throne hall. "Where are we?"
Lyssandra lifted her head slightly.
"This is your domain, my Emperor. The Demon Emperor's Island. Your castle stands at its heart. Your empire, your army, your laws—all exist within this isolated realm."
Cain's eyes sharpened.
"And outside?"
Lyssandra paused.
Just for a heartbeat.
"…We do not know."
Cain leaned forward slightly.
"You don't know," he repeated.
"Yes," she said calmly. "Since your creation, this island has been sealed. No external world interaction has occurred. My task has always been to investigate within your domain."
Cain exhaled slowly.
So his empire existed.
His castle existed.
His army existed.
But the outside world was unknown.
He stood.
The moment he did, the throne hall responded.
Runes ignited across the pillars.
The crimson veins in the walls pulsed brighter.
Not as a defense.
As acknowledgment.
Cain walked down a single step.
Then stopped.
"Lyssandra," he said.
"Yes, my Emperor?"
"Confirm something for me."
He raised his hand.
Dark energy condensed instantly, forming a thin blade of pure demonic essence.
Without hesitation—
He sliced his palm.
Blood flowed.
Dark crimson.
Heavy.
It dripped onto the obsidian floor.
The stone hissed softly, absorbing it like fertile soil.
Cain felt pain.
Not exaggerated.
Not dulled.
Real.
He closed his hand.
The wound sealed itself instantly.
He looked at Lyssandra.
"This world has consequences," he said. "Pain exists. Death exists."
Lyssandra smiled.
Not seductively.
But intelligently.
"Which means it is no longer a game," she replied.
Cain nodded.
"Exactly."
He turned back toward the throne and sat once more.
"Your role remains unchanged," he said. "Investigate. Gather information. Find out what exists beyond this island."
Lyssandra bowed deeply.
"My whispers will reach every shadow, my Emperor."
Cain raised a finger.
"One more thing."
"Yes?"
"Send Neon."
Lyssandra inclined her head and stepped back.
Moments later, footsteps echoed through the hall.
A man approached—tall, handsome, impeccably dressed in a black-and-white butler's uniform that looked more ceremonial than servile. His silver hair was neatly tied, his posture flawless, his eyes sharp with intelligence and absolute loyalty.
He stopped several steps away and bowed.
"My Emperor," he said calmly. "You summoned me."
Neon.
His personal butler.
Administrator of the castle.
Manager of logistics.
Coordinator of the imperial army.
"Prepare an observation mirror," Cain said. "I want to inspect the outer islands."
Neon bowed deeper.
"At once."
Lyssandra and Neon turned to leave.
The throne hall slowly fell silent again.
Cain rested his head against his hand.
The Demon Emperor's Castle.
His empire.
His army.
An isolated island floating in an unknown reality.
The game had ended.
But he had not.
A faint, confident smile formed on his lips.
"Let's see," Cain murmured, as shadows stirred obediently around the throne,
"what kind of world exists beyond my kingdom."
End of Chapter 1