Sex Is Hopeless in This Lifetime
The first thought that hit me when I opened my eyes after possessing this body: Sex is totally off the table in this life.
It was definitely a game I'd deleted ages ago. There were all sorts of reasons to keep playing, but just one to quit.
These bastards are really pushing it.
I just didn't want to anymore. The aggressive cash-grab events, the balance that had gone completely off the rails, the heroes from humanity who kept popping up like clockwork to trash my dungeon like it was their living room. I'd sneak into enemy territory just to hunt them down, only for the other Demon Kings to keep stabbing me in the back. Looking back, there was more than one reason, but who cares.
The game started you as a dungeon lord, pitting you against humanity until you rose to become the Demon King ruling the Demon Realm. When I quit Dungeon Master, I swore I'd never touch it again—even if I wasn't human anymore.
"And I really did end up not human..."
I was dumbfounded, but with no lungs, I couldn't even sigh.
What had I done to deserve this punishment? Was it the shitposts (literal shit) I spammed on the gallery forums? Or that song I made with the game company's CEO's face photoshopped in, racking up 20 million views and 1.2 million YouTube subscribers? I couldn't think of a single reason why a good, passionate player like me deserved to possess a suit of armor.
But one thing was crystal clear: the timing couldn't be worse.
Because—
"I'd ground all my gear to dust."
Back when I decided to quit the game. If I was gonna go out, I wanted a spectacular fireworks show, so I'd tossed every equipped item into the reinforcement menu.
[Execution Sword of Severing Causality] destroyed
[Ring Engraved with the End] destroyed
[Hero's Shroud] destroyed
[World Devourer] destroyed
'Void Citadel' has evolved into 'Babel, Wall of the Seven Deadly Sins'.
That suit of armor was the only thing that succeeded. Total mistake.
If I'd known I'd possess it, I'd have trashed it too. But I left it for gallery proof pics, and now...
"Where the hell am I?"
I looked around. No light seeped through the firmly shut door, but the red glow emanating from my body lit things up. It was a rundown warehouse. Probably inside the dungeon. Shelves held trap materials and golem cores.
Not how I'd organized it in-game. Looked like no one's touched it in ages.
Someone else's dungeon? As I checked the items, my hand froze.
In the corner of a shelf, under a box, I lifted an iron flagpole—and a frayed cloth banner unrolled.
It was a military standard, symbol of the demon race.
Kindle the Flame of the End
The faded cloth bore a familiar phrase in the center. The one players set at the start to symbolize their dungeon. Originally "Ops team dinner on dev funds?" but forced changed to something wholesome. Anyway, it was exactly mine from the game.
Dungeon banners were the pride of the crew, more precious than life. No lord keeps another’s.
Only one possibility left.
We're broke as hell.
No doubt. This was my dungeon, just a shell of its former self.
I scanned the warehouse with mixed feelings. Nothing useful. No resource piles. No decent gear. Just one worn suit of armor—me.
What now? If I'd respawned as a Demon King, I'd rebuild bare-handed. But a walking suit of armor? Endgame stats or not, a metal hunk can't do much.
"Or maybe there's some invisible entity I don't know about? But demons have vampires and succubi—no invisible humans..."
I was poking the eye slits inside my helmet with a finger, checking a mirror, when—
"Who's there!"
A trembling voice from behind. I turned: a small goblin. Probably sorting the warehouse. Upper shelves untouched—his reach.
Spotting an intruder, he snapped a long broom handle into a spear, prodding junk as he advanced.
"How dare you invade Lord Astal's Great Labyrinth without knowing your place. Even after 150 years since he vanished, this isn't a place for you filthy humans to dirty with your feet!"
My brain stalled. 150 years? Not 10 or 20—over a century?
No wonder it fell apart. Impressive the name lingered.
"I'll skin you alive for Lord Jugrak to find. Where are you!"
I scrambled for cover. Not scared of a goblin—other monsters in the dungeon were the issue. I was just armor now, no Demon King status.
If exposed, demon instincts would have me killed or dismantled for Demon Realm auction.
Stay still. Mimicking breath-holding dimmed my glow.
Just when I thought he'd pass—
The banner I'd leaned awkwardly toppled, hitting his spear and falling toward me.
"Ack."
Old human habit—I reflexively grabbed it.
Our eyes met as he looked up.
"There you are... grk?"
Monsters spotting intruders call backup or trigger traps.
Couldn't let him go. Quiet takedown? This sturdy armor could soccer-kick him near death.
First murder attempt not even an hour in—
Suddenly, the goblin dropped to his knees, voice quaking.
"C-Could you be... L-Lord Demon King...?"
***
Goblin Jugrak couldn't believe his eyes.
At first, simple intruder—humans trampling again.
But inside was their ruler.
The Demon King. Former lord of the Great Labyrinth.
Black-red mana rising, overwhelming killing intent you couldn't meet head-on.
But Jugrak prostrated without hesitation for another reason.
The thing in his hand: the banner he'd once wielded.
Coming to this rundown warehouse screamed reclaiming lost glory.
An intruder wouldn't care for demon symbols.
Couldn't see the face under the helm, but it was him—the one they'd waited for.
"Are you truly... the master of this labyrinth... Lord Astal?"
"...Yes."
After a long silence at his name, the reply came.
Relief faded to anxiety.
Everything had crumbled long ago. Assassination, raid, betrayal—after the presumed-dead Demon King's sudden disappearance, his lands and dungeon were torn apart by humans and rival demon forces.
Treasures lost. Even retainers guarding the banner faded with time.
Jugrak, born and raised here, hadn't served consciously. But legends passed down generations told him who he was.
Doomsday Demon King Astal. One of the six pillars of the Demon Realm who warred against human nations: the Theocracy, Legal Kingdom, and Holy Kingdom.
The Black Aristocrat who terrified the continent—standing before him now.
As if to declare his return to humans and demons alike.
"Who's managing this dungeon now? You?"
The Demon King, hearing of the aftermath, stepped out without hesitation.
"No, my lord. After your passing, owners changed several times. Now another rules."
"Who? What of my other subordinates? The war with the Holy Kingdom?"
"I'll explain one by one. First, if you'll come with me..."
—BOOM!
As he answered, a thunderous crash shook the ceiling, echoes filling the dungeon.
Intruders had arrived.