Prologue — The Emperor Plummets into the Abyss!
The Empire has fallen.
Rebellion? Hah! As if those worthless bugs who aren't even fit to lick the dirt from my toes would dare. Ridiculous. War? War was my daily routine. If anything, I was the one always starting them. Some childish disaster like a meteor strike? What is this, a novel?
The real reason? It's so absurd it'll make your jaw drop, but it boils down to a single word: Gambling. Yes, that one godforsaken gamble. My tower of effort built over hundreds of years, the golden age of humanity that I forged with my own two hands—all of it was handed over in some ridiculous champion fight that was basically a glorified game of catch. Ah, dammit! If only I had held out just a little longer! If only that bastard hadn't betrayed me! I could have won it all back, paid off my debts, and had enough left over to buy a whole planet!
Until just recently, I was the Emperor. Yes, me—Luciel. Once, I was an utterly ordinary man living on a planet called Earth, but somehow I got kicked out of there and dropped into this godforsaken dimension. And by some stroke of luck, I absorbed some fragment of a star or whatever, becoming a godlike being overnight. With that power, I successfully possessed the body of Luciel von Artina, the tragic princess of a kingdom on the brink of ruin. From a man to a woman—and a dead one who had taken her own life, at that... It feels like only yesterday when, the moment I opened my eyes, I grabbed a nearby decorative hammer and smashed the skulls of the slave traders and demi-humans who were trying to sell me off.
From that day forward, I rallied for the liberation of humanity, raising the curtain on the War of Human Liberation. Over several decades, armed with a single sword, a hammer, and my divine power, I conquered four continents. I brought dozens of demi-human races—who had been buzzing around me like annoying gnats—to their knees, enslaving them and ushering in a golden age for humanity. It was a true hymn to humanity, a paradise of human supremacy.
Before that, in this shitty world, before I arrived in Erhaim, humans were nothing but the lowest class of slaves. They were living arrow-fodder at the feet of the arrogant, self-proclaimed wise Elves, and mine slaves who never saw the light of day in the tunnels of the "diligent" Dwarves. To the instinct-driven Beastkin, they were mere prey or playthings, and to the savage Orcs, Trolls, and Goblins, they were nothing more than walking emergency rations. Even gods and demons treated humans like insects, violating them at whim. It was a literal living hell.
I resolved to save humanity. And, yes, I burned this damn world to the ground with my own hands. Was the beginning noble? Well, I suppose you could package it as a war of liberation for downtrodden humanity. After all, justifications always sound nice.
The World Tree, the spiritual pillar of those high-and-mighty Elves? I turned it into a massive pile of firewood and burned it to ashes. And the Elves who boasted of their beauty? I bound them and sold them off in the slave markets, or degraded them into living ornaments to decorate my palace, or mere scribes to sort through my paperwork.
The prideful Dwarves? I plucked out every single hair of their precious beards and turned them into factory slaves, churning out weapons day and night. Under the slogan "Labor is Happiness," they worked without rest. The small, nimble Gnomes were sent straight to the laboratories, relegated to the status of graduate students subjected to all kinds of experiments and research. The occasional screams echoing out served as the background music to their studies.
The wild and energetic Beastkin? The useful ones were turned into arena slaves, forced to fight to the death like attack dogs, while the rest were sold off to the mines or the slave markets. Among them, those with decent looks were separated and put through "special artistic training." Currently, a Beastkin idol slave group called "The Cat is a Puppy" enjoys peak popularity in the Empire. Of course, all the revenue goes straight into my pocket.
The Goblins, Orcs, and Trolls who ran rampant relying solely on their brute strength were all made into Combat Slaves. Sometimes they were used as test subjects for biological weapons, or degraded into mere prey for my amusement in the Emperor's hunting grounds. Thus, humanity triumphed and prospered. Of course, that was only on the surface.
The reality? Endless wars, military maintenance costs, soldiers' rations, and the development and production of new weapons... the national treasury was on a daily express train straight to hell. The wider the conquered territories grew, the more the deficit snowballed. Right then, certain entities approached me with sweet, whispering voices. They were the self-proclaimed Constellations, the high-and-mighty rulers of other dimensions.
"Your Majesty, do not worry about funds. We shall lend to you at a very low interest rate." That was how they whispered. At first, I truly believed I could pay it back quickly. I genuinely did. I trusted in my own abilities and the sheer power of my Empire. But I borrowed, and borrowed again. I borrowed for war funds, and borrowed again to buy luxury goods. By the time I snapped out of it, the debt had snowballed to an unmanageable extreme.
And then, a brilliant idea suddenly struck me. It was a moment where my genius truly shone.
"Wait, now that I think about it, if I just smash the heads of the bastards who lent me the money, I won't have to pay them back, right?"
And so, war broke out once more. It was named the Dimension War to Smash the Creditors' Heads.
Leading the proud legions of humanity, I marched beyond the dimensions to where the Constellations resided. Raising my sword and hammer once more, I tore those godforsaken promissory notes to shreds and waged war yet again to liquidate my debts by crushing my creditors' skulls. Another few decades passed. Just as I was growing thoroughly sick of this tedious war, one of those Constellation bastards whispered a sweet proposal.
"O Great Emperor, a chance still remains. Put forth a champion in the Constellations' Great Game held every hundred years, and claim victory. You will obtain prize money more than enough to liquidate all your debts."
I fell for that sweet temptation. I wagered the entire Empire. My loyal subjects, the soldiers fighting with their lives on the line, and even the commoners beneath my feet—all of it, without anyone knowing. A single gamble, wagering my everything.
And then,
"You son of a bitch!!!!!"
Of all things, the bastard I sent out as my champion turned out to be a furry lover! Who could have guessed that the godforsaken prick would fall head over heels for the rabbit-eared Beastkin champion of the opposing side, and run away with her in the middle of the match!
Forfeiture. Disqualification. My Empire was declared bankrupt on the spot. I foamed at the mouth and fainted right then and there. When I regained consciousness, I had been cast down onto a cold, filthy floor. And then, the cold voices of the Constellations echoed in my ears.
"Since you cannot pay your debt, you must pay with your body now, Your Majesty."
Thus, from an absolute Emperor who once ruled the world, I became a whore to those who were once my subjects and slaves. Ah, what a truly godforsaken life!