Evolving Without a Conscience
The life-form consulting industry was sailing along smoothly. I'd only taken simple measures for four people, yet I'd managed to squeeze eighty thousand points out of them.
There were guys like this too. The fact that he had a lot of points and could use a ton of divinity was exactly why the points he paid me ended up being so high. What kind of bullshit was this?
“Ah. I’ve got a question. What happens if your points go negative? Do I still get the points I’m supposed to receive?”
“No. You receive the points normally. The other party will simply receive random penalty traits until their negative balance turns positive.”
Penalty traits sounded terrifying. They inflicted enormous negative effects and apparently could never be removed once obtained in-game. You either dropped out the moment you got one or carried it all the way to victory.
What was even worse was that if you accepted someone with penalty traits as a subordinate through an ‘alliance’ or ‘surrender,’ those negative effects would continue to plague your world until that person’s soul was completely annihilated.
“So that’s how it works. In other words, you can suck them dry indefinitely.”
“Exactly. Since they can’t afford to take the penalty traits, they’ll have no choice but to desperately sell off everything in their world….”
That wasn’t my problem. The contract conditions had been made public. The fact that I performed this well was entirely his own miscalculation.
The points I’d earned this time, combined with what I already had, came to a little over one hundred and thirty thousand. From now on, anyone who picked the best possible conditions and raised their ecosystem score would be able to buy a mythic-grade trait.
The next applicant was someone who had offered a whopping four points per contribution point with unlimited divinity. There was no way I couldn’t generate around three thousand six hundred contribution under those conditions. With a little tuning, I could raise it as much as I wanted.
So I crossed over to the other party’s world.
And it was a complete disaster.
No, it was an absolute catastrophe. The ecosystem had been utterly destroyed. Their magic and technology were decently high, at least.
But the world’s total score barely exceeded three thousand. The remaining population—if you could even call them that—was at most two hundred and fifty individuals. There was at least one hero among them, so it hadn’t completely collapsed.
I see. Even if he wanted to cooperate, if cooperation was impossible, the only option was to fight to the bitter end.
And in the final war, he ended up exhausting every last resource in the ecosystem and was left with a measly two hundred and fifty survivors. A truly horrific state of affairs.
But something about that seemed off.
Hm?
Suddenly, I remembered that only a hundred thousand people had dropped out so far.
A hundred thousand. It sounded like a lot, but out of sixty-seven million total participants, it was nothing. Logically, the number of people who had fought and lost, failed, screwed up their strategy, or simply had terrible luck should have been at least a third of the total.
Yet only a hundred thousand. Just 0.14 percent. By the end of the third collision, most of them would have been in terrible shape. If they were in the lower ranks, they might not have even had a thousand points.
The angel’s earlier comment that “ten thousand points equals one million dollars” meant that a thousand points was a hundred thousand dollars.
For stakes that included your very soul, that was far too little. And that was only using money as the standard—if you considered “services,” the targets would be even higher.
That was why no one had dropped out during the first segment. If you got lucky just three times, meeting only opponents weaker than yourself, either cooperating with them or devouring them to survive, your points could theoretically explode by more than nine times.
If removing or improving one person’s addiction cost twenty thousand points, then extending your own lifespan, restoring your youth, or regaining your health would probably cost about the same.
The angel had also mentioned that immortality was cheaper than expected.
In other words, the one-third of participants who should have dropped out were likely people who would have died anyway even if they stayed, so they might as well participate. Or they were simply fools drowning in desire.
But I didn’t think that was the case.
Because I myself had been somewhat like that. The organizers probably didn’t want the game to produce dropouts in droves. Since that would ruin the game, they must have gone through some kind of selective process.
In short, the participants had already resolved themselves to enter a game where their souls might be annihilated. They had already crossed one dangerous bridge.
Therefore, whether rationally or irrationally, there were probably a staggering number of people who deliberately crossed another dangerous bridge even though “dropping out would have been the surest way to stay safe.”
Hm. Well, that makes sense.
The contract conditions were now set. Since there was no limit on divinity consumption, I might as well go wild.
His level of understanding seemed slightly better than Sesaisa’s, so I decided to start by fixing the producer ecosystem, beginning with plants.
I created plants and modified them to suit the terrain.
Then I made insects. Especially ones like earthworms that would enrich the soil. I increased their numbers, and in turn created excellent livestock like chickens that would eat them and become food themselves.
I created intelligent creatures similar to dogs that would protect the livestock from wild predators. I tuned those dogs further so they could also herd and guard the livestock. I increased the plants and crops. I created large quantities of organisms that were easy to harvest and maintain but had no nutritional value. The population was still far too small right now.
And then… and then…
I accelerated time and overwhelmingly advanced civilization for these species. Since I was already providing quite a lot of help on the technology, industry, and mystery side, as long as I supplied endless biological resources, the rest would sort itself out somehow.
I continued endlessly. Infinitely. Unlimited divinity consumption meant I couldn’t stop midway. I created what I considered the most ideal ecological civilization, and for that purpose I even drew on Elkaider’s own divinity.
Because the flourishing races offered endless worship, divinity surged in like crazy.
When the modifications were finally complete, Elkaider’s world score had risen by 6,422 points. The base was rock bottom, but since there were no threats left in the world and the foundational technology was at least average, it was much easier than it had been with Sesaisa. The land was also vast.
The angels answered with stiff expressions.
“Fifteen thousand three hundred and eleven points.”
Since contribution measured long-term impact as well, it could rise higher than the actual work done. This tendency was especially strong when meddling with ecosystems.
I see. Then I’d receive 61,244 points. A profitable deal no matter how you looked at it. A total jackpot. Jackpot…
Hm.
I waited a moment, but there was no response.
I understood how he felt. Because penalty traits were horrific. There was one called Eternal Famine. The name alone was terrifying.
You received one penalty trait per point below the base level.
In other words, with the thirty thousand points he was short, and since this was after four collisions, the base score was 7,409. He would have to take roughly four to five penalty traits.
There was no way he could win the next collision.
And if he lost, no one would accept his surrender.
It would essentially be a public execution. There was almost no difference.
I felt bad for the idiot, but there was nothing I could do.
If I spared him here, what would that make of all the other players I’d already annihilated? Did they not have circumstances too?
I hated intelligent beings. In messages I used lol haha T_T, but in reality I wasn’t smiling or crying at all. Just talking to others was stressful. I fucking hated it.
Humans—intelligent beings—were shameless. Because that was how they gained profit. They had something called a conscience, but ignoring that conscience could be more profitable. So that was how they evolved.
I’d been a shut-in from the start anyway. Just die.
Then die.
Everyone gets one chance. And you already wasted yours on reckless gambling, you degenerate gambler.
…Please just stop.
Sigh…
“Hm?”
I could feel my angel, who had been silent the entire time, staring at me.
What did it matter? There was a chance I might gain an even bigger benefit, so I might as well check. If he was seriously asking me to take pity on him with no plan whatsoever, that would be ridiculous.
That was completely useless. I’d thought that if he was a teacher, I might at least get a magic textbook even an idiot could learn from.
?
What the hell is that?
“He means to change the viewpoint from the material realm to one that can see mysteries.”
Ah. That. The game had that option too. It was complicated to manage so I hadn’t paid much attention…
When I switched the view, something absurd existed in the world.
A massive structure built with magic was floating in the sky. No, I couldn’t even tell if it was magic or a structure.
It was simply a vortex of mana that sucked in mana from the ground and spat out different mana downward.
I looked at the angel.
The angels seemed to be calculating the contribution, then carefully answered.
“If we treat the value of the knowledge and the existing spiritual realm as contribution, it comes to approximately 8,566 points. On the contrary, it seems Lord Biin would need to pay about two thousand points extra.”
Then that was that.
Elkaider would now have to run around desperately to earn the three thousand points he owed, and I… well, I suppose I’d take this unidentified knowledge and magical structure.
I could sell it off later if I wanted. For now, I could ask Sesaisa, the expert… and even without that, it certainly looked impressive…
I returned to my own world. The endless struggle in that hellish place was still repeating. I was about to tell the angel I wanted to buy a mythic-grade trait when she immediately fired a question at me.
“Why did you do that?”
What do you mean?
“I naturally assumed you would mercilessly kill him. You said it was for a bigger benefit, but when I think about it, it didn’t seem like you were deliberately stalling to secure profit. It looked more like you changed your mind midway.
Like how you can press a button to kill an opponent you can’t see, but when they’re right in front of you, you can’t pull the trigger.”
······.
“Angel.”
“Yes?”
“How many points does it cost to erase all of my humanity?”
In other words, the fragile heart that had felt guilty enough to be stabbed by conscience for the rest of my life just because I refused to lend money to the mother who abandoned me while prattling on about “the grace of giving birth to me.”
How much to erase all of that?
“That… hmm. It doesn’t cost that much, but…”
“Really? If you’re saying that, then I’ve been suffering my whole life over something trivial.”
“Umm. Well…”
I hated humans.
I was human.
Therefore, I hated myself.
If I won, I would become a god who had transcended humanity. If I lost, one more human would simply disappear.
That was why I had participated in the game without hesitation.
Enough. I was the Demon King now. If I didn’t face things with that mindset, I couldn’t win.
“Hurry up and show me the mythic-grade traits in the shop. I’ll pick a good one.”
Author’s Note
This is the afterword for Volume 1 (Chapters 1–25). Most web novels don’t include afterwords, but I always do. There’s no problem understanding the story if you skip it, so feel free to ignore this.
—Reason for Writing—
Editor (who has looked after this author for a full four years): Author-nim. You did everything you wanted during the Stone Age period, right? Now it’s time to write a real mass-market novel.
Author: A mass-market novel. You mean one with a Sword Master?
Editor: Yes!
Author: Or a Grand Mage appearing.
Editor: Yes!!
Author: Or maybe a genius who does everything alone and monopolizes all the rewards…!
Editor: Yes!!!
Author: Then I’ll write a novel about a misanthropic protagonist creating a biosphere alone in a civilization game.
Editor: …Why.
It turned out to be more popular than expected, so I just kept writing. Ignoring the editor’s four years of pleas to “please just write a mass-market novel” and only writing what I wanted to write has finally paid off.
Anyway. Let’s begin the Volume 1 afterword.
—Q&A—
Question 1. Is Yogur-tosoth endothermic or ectothermic?
Answer: The first question is already on another level. Due to its massive body, mana-based heat generation, and the unique desert environment, its primary mechanism is lowering body temperature. In other words, it is a homeothermic heterotherm.
Question 2. During the shop phase, if allies pool all their points on one person, couldn’t they easily obtain a mythic-grade trait?
Answer: It’s impossible for three reasons. First, when there are allies in a world, they don’t each receive points equal to the world’s total score. Instead, the total score is divided according to each person’s share of ownership.
Second, the price of a mythic-grade trait is nearly twenty times the base level. In other words, the vast majority would need ten to twenty times more points even if they scraped together their world’s entire score. Even the protagonist, who has been extraordinarily successful, had to run a separate business because it was that difficult.
Third, traits are bound to the god, not the world, so they cannot be shared. If you’re in an alliance, there’s no reason to give your own points to someone else to buy them a mythic-grade trait.
Question 3. Is Abhojuth also subject to evolution? Can it reproduce?
Answer: No. It is classified as a fairy (nymph) and is bound to the terrain, so it cannot evolve or reproduce. However, it should be able to create servant fairies.
—This Is SF—
According to the SF author who is currently co-serializing with me (and who also wrote the previous work, or rather the Stone Age fantasy I’m co-releasing with), “This work is simply SF.”
Well, yeah. It’s not space opera, but it uses the grammar of SF that deals with science and civilization as its subject matter. My goal is to win the SF Literary Award in the web novel category.
I’ve always enjoyed creating creatures that could only appear in fantasy—creatures that still made sense. It’s nice that I get to try so many different things.
In that regard, I have received some criticism regarding biological accuracy. I didn’t make any particular revisions in Volume 1.
Because, to be honest, since this is a novel, there are parts where I deliberately made the descriptions somewhat extreme, or used the protagonist’s blatantly biased viewpoint. It could be that my writing ability was lacking, or that I was simply wrong, or that something might be correct now but will become academically nonsensical later.
This is fundamentally a web novel that conveniently uses plausible-sounding knowledge. Please think of it that way. Like the Grappler Baki series.
—Protagonist—
The nickname “Biin” literally means “non-human.” The protagonist wishes he wasn’t human.
That’s why the protagonist is extremely ugly, evil, and while being an intelligent being himself, he hates intelligent beings, claims to despise them, yet socializes with Sesaisa, actively uses the community, thinks of sponsored advertisements during promotions, and so on—I attached every possible ugly trait to him. It was 100% intentional. Not all of these aspects will appear constantly in the future, though.
I’ve always held the belief that I will never create a protagonist who is unconditionally likable. Or rather, I believe that no matter what story I write, the protagonist must have flaws. Not flaws in terms of character perfection, but flaws that exist as part of their character.
It’s easier to maintain consistency in a character if you deliberately create real flaws and build their thinking around those flaws, rather than having the protagonist make stupid or strange decisions that the author didn’t intend.
—Cthulhu—
The names of the creatures in this work are taken from desserts and beings from Cthulhu Mythos. It ended up sounding like a Yu-Gi-Oh! archetype.
I originally planned to just use names from the Cthulhu Mythos, but my girlfriend said, “Why is it called the Dessert Legion if none of the names are desserts?” So I hurriedly added that element.
Abhojuth: It’s Abhoth + juice. A lot of people asked if it was Abhoth + apple juice, but… well, let’s just go with that.
Yogur-tosoth: Yog-Sothoth + yogurt sauce. I thought it was a brilliant idea when I came up with the name.
Bisyakheet: Byakhee + biscuit. It’s funny how it ended up sharing a similar setting with the Byakhee that drinks honey in the Cthulhu Mythos.
Gamchi: A direct translation of “Sweet Tooth.” It means someone who likes sweet things.
—Anti-Intellectualism—
In truth, anti-intellectualism is not a ideology that beats and rejects intelligent beings, but literally an ideology that reveres ignorance and undermines the authority of scholarship.
Therefore, strictly speaking, the protagonist’s ideology is not anti-intellectualism. It’s closer to radical environmentalism that says humans are harmful so humans must voluntarily go extinct (it’s a real movement, and South Korea is already practicing it). Honestly, “The Eco-Friendly Demon King’s World Invasion” sounded a bit off, so it became the Anti-Intellectualism Demon King.
I also considered titles like “The Demon King’s Mindless World Invasion,” and thought of various web novel titles. The official abbreviation I’m pushing is “Banma-se.”
—Final Afterword—
This work has a clear ending. Whether I make a mistake midway and readers leave in droves, or it becomes so popular that I want to keep writing… regardless, the story ends when the protagonist loses, drops out, or becomes the last remaining player and wins. In theory, if everyone except the protagonist drops out during the next dropout phase, he wins.
I always write with the “end” in mind, so the result of the protagonist’s final game and the story’s conclusion are already in my head as I write this afterword.
Looking at it coldly, the structure of confrontation-protection-confrontation is monotonous, so I’m trying to add various variables to overcome that. The community and events are part of that effort.
I can only thank the readers who have read and supported me so far. I’m an ugly and pathetic author, but I always strive to write stories that only I can write.
I hope to see you again in the afterword for the next volume!