[Allow me to reintroduce myself: I am System 0000, born from the powerful, long-nurtured wishes of the heart. You are the very first to awaken me, my lord!]
Well, fair enough—Lucen himself hadn't expected to have died a hundred thousand times. It sounded downright absurd.
[Because you cherished your creations... yet your heart was ice-cold! Except for the first time you gave them a happy ending, in over a thousand iterations, your works all ended in tragedy or bittersweet partings. Truly, the cruelest author in history—despised and resented by all! Thus, I've appeared to bring you into the world you created. This time, please save it. Lead your children to a happy ending!]
Lucen never imagined writing one tragic story would get him dragged into a mission. Should he leave a warning for other authors out there who enjoy making their readers cry?
The system had just shown him what happened to everyone else after he was gone. They seemed... truly happy. And here he was, suspended in this place—an endless white void wrapped in mist of many shifting colors, hazy and surreal.
Lucen asked, "And what if I can't lead that world to a happy ending?"
[Then you'll die—and the people you love will return to their original fates. Your world will collapse and be destroyed.]
His father died when Lucen was fifteen. His younger brother died on his eighteenth birthday. His mother lived on, but slowly went mad.
And that other world...
He thought to himself, Maybe I can die after finishing the mission. I'm looking forward to that release.
System 0000 had no idea what was going through its lord's mind. It declared loudly:
[Connection complete! Please remember—once you enter that world, it will no longer be mere ink and sketches. Humanity is a mysterious thing. There will be changes. That's perfectly normal! My lord, best of luck to you!]
Right. In short: Don't get too cocky.
A blinding light suddenly engulfed Lucen's entire body. He instinctively closed his eyes. In the next moment, he became a streak of light—vanishing from that world entirely.
[A world of your creation... will it be enough to hold your soul in place...?]
The system's voice no longer carried the cheer from before. It sounded distant, melancholic—whispering a secret only it knew.
...
"You're telling me... this is the avatar of Demiourgos—the Creator God?"
A low, cold voice echoed from high above.
Lucen realized he was kneeling. The marble floor beneath him radiated icy chill. His form was bathed in the warm light of the chandeliers, casting a glow reflected in his eyes.
Thin. Malnourished. Face smudged with ash, yet this person dared to claim he was the incarnation of Demiourgos, the Creator God.
There was no such scene in the original story he wrote. This must be an insertion by System 0000 to rationalize his appearance in the world.
But this identity... was far too dangerous.
Lucen could already imagine the kind of life he'd be living from now on—like treading thin ice every step of the way. That is, assuming he survived today.
After all, everyone knew who sat on the throne above:
Adonis Aurellan—king of the Mythera Kingdom, the vast, wealthy, and powerful empire that ruled nearly the Elyndor continent—was known as a tyrant.
"Yes, yes! This is the incarnation of The Creator God—the god above even The God of Light! And I am the High Priest, destined to strengthen His incarnation and prepare the world for His descent!"
The middle-aged man, about fifty, rambled on without pause. His tattered white robe fluttered dramatically with his movements, though it had long turned the color of watery porridge and gave off a distinctly unpleasant odor.
His hair was a wild mess of white, and his scraggly beard quivered with each word he spoke. Leaves and strange black bits—mud or maybe food scraps—clung stubbornly to it.
He was just as gaunt and frail as Lucen. His exposed hand was little more than skin over bone. Bloodshot eyes bulged with red veins crawling out like cracks in porcelain.
Combined with his string of outrageous declarations, anyone would've taken him for a lunatic dragging some poor, cursed child to the royal palace to stir up trouble.
The two of them—one old, one young—unhinged, yet somehow standing before the King of Mythera. There was no way there wasn't some hidden scheme involved. Lucen didn't believe for a second that Adonis, infamous for being an absolute tyrant, would waste time on madmen.
Lucen thought silently, maybe I won't need to do anything to survive today.
"High Priest, then you must possess remarkable power, yes?"
Adonis's voice rang out again, this time with a sudden smile.
"It's been a while since I saw Leo. Guards—bring General Leo here!"
The moment Adonis issued the order, his attendants moved swiftly. Soon, four knights clad in silver armor entered, carrying a large iron cage.
The cage stood three meters tall and two meters wide. Inside sat a golden-furred lion, still and majestic. Yes, that lion was the General Leo Adonis spoke of.
"If the High Priest truly wields divine power and has found the incarnation of The Creator God, then surely this beast will be no match for him. Come, show me the power of the High Priest!"
Adonis raised his voice, flicking his hand with a theatrical flourish. The jingling of his jewelry followed, and his arched brows betrayed a gleam of amusement in his tone.
The servants sighed inwardly. Curtis, the ever-loyal steward, thought: Looks like we'll be cleaning up another mess today.
At the same time, the cage was opened—and General Leo was set free.
The "High Priest" flailed his limbs in indignation.
"To doubt the might of the High Priest of The Creator God?! You dare, king of men?! I will dispose of this beast, then teach you a lesson myself!"
He roared with fury, brandished a crooked wooden staff, and hurled himself toward General Leo.
"Grawwww!"
The lion let out a deafening roar, leaping from the cage. It stood over two meters tall and nearly five meters long—far beyond the size of any ordinary lion.
One roar was enough to make the entire palace tremble. Its maw yawned wide, like a bloody chasm, lined with rows upon rows of jagged teeth more terrifying than a shark's.
"Chomp!"
Leo lunged and bit down. The High Priest's frail body was instantly torn in two. Blood sprayed like a fountain. Then came the wet, grisly sounds of flesh being ripped apart and swallowed whole—squelching, sticky, revolting.
The hall fell deathly silent.
Only the sound of Leo "eating his meal" remained.
But with such a meager body, there was barely enough meat to coat his fangs. Leo gnawed perfunctorily for show before simply swallowing what remained in a single gulp.
So, he was a lunatic.
Lucen had half wondered if the man had some hidden power, but no. From beginning to end, he was nothing more than a raving madman—one so far gone he couldn't even recognize his death.
A more typical madman might have sobered up a little in the face of General Leo.
Lucen lowered his gaze. Blood had crept into his line of sight.
The marble floor was stained red, the coppery stench hanging thick in the air. The blood reached his numb knees, as though trying to crawl up and soak into his flesh—pulling him into the same fate.
"Graw!"
"Spfft!"
General Leo quickly finished off the High Priest.
He began strolling, circling Lucen, sniffing repeatedly and snorting through his nose. Lucen felt something sticky drop onto his head. Whether it was the High Priest's blood still lingering in General Leo's mouth or simply the lion's saliva, he couldn't tell.
At that moment, Adonis finally cast a glance toward Lucen.
Others noticed as well. Since this child appeared, he had remained silent like a wood block. Even when the so-called High Priest — the very man who brought him here — was devoured right before his eyes, the boy had not said a word. Even as General Leo approached him, his body hadn't trembled.
Either he had nerves of steel, or he had been scared into complete numbness.
Yet Adonis didn't believe the boy had been frightened into silence. He curled his lips into a smile and said, "General Leo, return to the military camp."
General Leo let out a displeased huff, but obediently retreated into the iron cage in the end. Even such a massive creature seemed cowed by a single glance from Adonis.
"Raise your head."
Adonis looked down at the child kneeling on the floor and gave his order.
Lucen understood the unspoken threat and raised his head. In doing so, the face of the tyrant finally came into full view.
Exactly as Lucen had imagined.
The king, not yet forty years old, had slightly long golden hair that draped down like a wolf's tail. His lips naturally curved downward, and his sharp eyes slanted upward — even without any expression, his appearance alone gave off the air of a savage beast.
Adonis stared into the child's emotionless violet eyes, and a smirk played on his lips.
"What a rare pair of eyes. Speak — who are you?" he asked, as if he had all the time in the world.
"I am Lucen," Lucen replied. His voice, no longer hoarse, was clear but frail.
"Wrong! You are the incarnation of Demiourgos – The Creator God."
Adonis narrowed his eyes slightly, casually dictating Lucen's fate:
"The High Priest overcame countless trials to bring forth the incarnation of Demiourgos. Exhausted, he sacrificed himself in the process. As king, I feel great sorrow. I acknowledge the incarnation as my Fifth Prince and will personally oversee his education until the day The Creator God descends!"
As expected — no surprises there…