Please Read the Manual Before Pressing the Button
End of World.
It was a game about becoming a survivor of a village already laid waste by the Demon King and rebuilding it from the ashes in order to survive. Depending on the scenario, you gathered up the villagers who'd made it out alive, put roofs over their heads, scrounged for food, and combed the surroundings for whatever traces had been left behind—studying them, or turning them into new items.
Villagers came with strengths across a whole spread of stats—melee, marksmanship, magic, construction, farming, persuasion, mining, cooking, medicine—and the game was about deploying each one exactly where they fit best to steer the settlement through one crisis after another. And it never ended with simply growing the village, either. You also had to survive the monsters that came crashing in on a regular cycle.
Which is why I invested my time into engineering a set of conditions that made clearing the game a foregone conclusion.
To keep disease out, demon blood was injected into every vein. The human body itself was rebuilt so that even a lost limb could be regrown, so long as the resources were on hand. Rapid regeneration was layered in to hold off the aging process, and since the resulting body demanded far more nutrients than any ordinary person's, I reworked its tastes until it would eat raw meat—human flesh included—to cover the deficit.
The supplies we needed were shaken out of travelers and refugees, and any early settler who couldn't stomach it and bolted had their body put to use as raw material.
The higher my infamy climbed, the more enemies came knocking—but no matter how many arrived, the moment they stumbled into the maze-like defense zones and killing grounds I'd laid out, they melted away into nothing and became food. That was all.
And in the end, once I had scrubbed every last trace of morality from the community as a whole—so that no act whatsoever, no matter how depraved, would ever be refused—a flawless and invincible village stood complete.
No longer needing my hand on the reins, it expanded on its own, developed on its own, devoured the neighboring villages on its own, and swelled into something enormous. Watching it happen, I felt a deep, quiet satisfaction.
The game had several endings—world conquest on one side, or the slow preparation of a cross-world escape portal to get out of this place for good on the other—and my run stood right on the brink of completing the world conquest.
Thinking there was nothing left in it worth seeing, I moved to shut End of World down—and in that moment, a different button sat on the screen where the familiar Save and Exit had always been.
Before I had even bothered to read what it actually said, the instant my finger pressed it out of sheer habit—
I opened my eyes in a new world.