Warning, this game is nsfw 18+ only.
It features both gay and straight characters as you play as a bi character, but have some control over the content your character will engage with.
You will find fetishes such as:
Muscle Growth, Macro, Hyper, M/M, M/F, Transformation, Worship, Voyerism, Excessive Cum, and Nymphomania
Viewer discretion is advised.
[[Start]]
Five long years have passed since the world as we knew it ended. The day the portals tore open the sky, reality itself seemed to fracture. From those gaping wounds in the fabric of existence poured forth nightmares made flesh—demons wreathed in shadow, hulking orcs with bloodstained axes, and elves whose beauty masked a cold, merciless cruelty. They came not as explorers or envoys, but as conquerors. And humanity, for all its guns and bombs, for all its pride and power, never stood a chance.
Magic—the stuff of legends, of children’s fairy tales—was their weapon. Fire that burned without fuel, storms summoned with a gesture. Our weapons faltered. Our tanks were reduced to slag. Our cities burned. Governments collapsed in days. We fought for as long as we could. But in the end, it didn’t matter. The invaders were relentless.
The world itself began to change. Magic seeped into the earth, twisting the land into something unrecognizable. Forests grew overnight. Rivers ran backward. The air crackled with unseen energy, and storms of raw arcane power scoured the land clean of anything—or anyone—too weak to endure.
Survival became a game of inches. A battle fought not just against the invaders, but against the very planet beneath your feet.
Yet somehow… you survived.
Your name is Liam. Just Liam. No last name. No titles. No family left to carry it forward. You're alone, a shadow clinging to existence in a world that has forgotten you. The first year was chaos—running, hiding, watching everyone you get taken away by the invaders. The second was hunger, desperation, learning how to move like a rat in the ruins. The third was numbness. The fourth was exhaustion.
Now, as the fifth year grinds on, you’re not even sure what keeps you going. Maybe it’s spite. Maybe it’s habit. Maybe it’s the dim, foolish hope that somewhere, somehow, there’s still a way to fight back.
You’ve been living—if you can call it that—on the fringes of a ruined town, picking through the bones of the old world for scraps. A can of beans here. A half-rotten apple there.
Your body is a wreck—ribs pressing against skin, muscles atrophied, hands shaking with fatigue. You’re not a fighter. You’re not even a scavenger. You’re just… still here.
But for how much longer?
The town is picked clean. The invaders patrol closer every day. The very air burns your lungs with the weight of magic, thick and suffocating. You don’t sleep much anymore and wonder if you should leave.
Somewhere out there, beyond the skeletal remains of civilization, beyond the forests, maybe—just maybe—there are others. Survivors who still raise their fists against the tide.
But is it even possible?
Your body is weak. Every step is a battle. Your stomach knots with hunger, your vision swims if you stand too fast. The idea of trekking through the nightmare this world has become feels like suicide. And what if it’s all for nothing? What if the last human stronghold fell years ago, and you’re just walking toward another grave?
<<linkreplace "Head Home">> With a sigh, you sling the meager supplies over your shoulder—a half-empty can of something unidentifiable, a rusted knife, a canteen with a few sips of stale water left. It’s not much. But will keep you going for a little longer.
You carefully move through the dense forest, every sense sharpened to a razor’s edge. You stick to the shadows, avoiding patches of glowing moss, steering clear of the eerie silence where predators—natural or otherwise—might lurk.
Home is nothing more than a shallow cave, hidden behind a curtain of thorny brush. It’s cold. Damp. Dark. But it’s safe. Or at least, safer than the open ruins where the invaders stalk in packs, dragging away anyone foolish enough to be seen.
You’ve watched them from a distance—tall, armored figures with eyes that gleam like embers, herding ragged humans through the shimmering gates of their portals. No one comes back. No one knows what happens on the other side. And you don’t plan to find out.
Collapsing onto the rough stone floor, you let out a shuddering breath. The cave smells of damp earth and your own sweat. The last embers of a fire glow faintly in the pit you dug days ago. You don’t bother stoking it. Fuel is scarce, and the smoke might give you away.
Your fingers tremble as you pry open the can. The contents inside are some kind of meat, maybe, swimming in congealed grease. It smells rancid. You eat it anyway.
[[You hear something|Start_1]]
<</linkreplace>>
"Hey… over… here."
The voice was weak, muffled—barely more than a whisper carried on the damp cave air. You freeze, the rancid meal halfway to your lips. Slowly, you lower the can and turn your head, scanning the shadows. Nothing. Just the flicker of dying embers and the jagged teeth of stone surrounding you.
//Must be hearing things.// You let out a sigh. //Finally lost it, huh, Liam?//
You’re about to take another bite when the voice comes again—clearer this time, more insistent.
"You're not… going crazy."
Your fingers tighten around the can. That—that wasn’t just your imagination. It answered you. Reacted to your thoughts. A cold prickle runs down your spine.
"I’m telling you… you're not crazy! Help me out. I'm buried underneath some rubble deeper in the cave."
Your eyes dart toward the back of the cavern, where the darkness thickens. There, barely visible in the dim light, is a small mound of loose stones—debris from some long-ago collapse.
For a long moment, you just stare. This is insane. But then again, insanity stopped being a meaningful concept the day the world ended.
With a sigh, you set the can aside and crawl toward the rubble. //Might as well play along.//
<<linkreplace "Start digging">>
One by one, you pry the rocks away. Your muscles scream in protest—malnourished, exhausted—but the voice urges you on, growing louder with each stone removed.
"That’s it! Keep going!"
Then, as you heave aside the final rock, the last barrier gives way—revealing a smooth, white sphere nestled in the earth. It glows faintly, pulsing like a slow heartbeat.
"Finally! After being trapped for so long… someone found me!" The voice is crisp now, brimming with relief—and something else. Something like triumph.
You sit back on your heels, wiping sweat from your brow. "A talking stone? If I had any doubts that I was going crazy, they're gone now."
"I’m telling you, you're not crazy!" the sphere retorts, its tone almost indignant. "And besides, is a talking stone that can read your mind really the strangest thing you’ve seen?"
You pause. Memories flash—a dragon’s wings blotting out the sun, rivers flowing uphill, trees that scream when cut. This world stopped making sense a long time ago.
"Fair point," you mutter.
"Of course it's a fair point! Nothing in this world is natural anymore—not even me. But I’m grateful I can speak. And with your help, I can finally be free."
Your instincts flare. "Whoa, whoa. What are you talking about? I never agreed to help you."
The sphere’s glow intensifies. "But you will help me," it says, its voice dropping into something low, knowing. "It’s your only hope. And it’s a good deal—better than you know. In the past, men would have killed for what I offer."
You swallow hard. "And what’s that?"
A beat of silence. Then, softly, almost reverently:
"Power."
The word lingered in the air, thick with implication.
"Right..." You let out a shaky breath, rubbing your temple. A talking stone offering power? After everything you've seen—after years of scraping by in a world gone mad—you should know better than to trust anything that glows and speaks in riddles. And yet..
"I've got a lot of questions before I even consider agreeing to help," you say, forcing steel into your voice.
The sphere's light flickers, almost like a sigh. "Oh, fine," it replies, its tone laced with amused impatience. "I’ve waited an eternity to finally communicate with someone. What’s a few more moments to me?"
[[Who are you?]]
<</linkreplace>>
“My name is Braxor. Braxor the Indulgent. A god from another world.”
"Braxor the Indulgent," you repeat slowly, rolling the name around in your mouth like a bitter herb. "So we've gone from 'talking stone' to 'god' now." Your voice drips with skepticism, but beneath it, there's a thread of curiosity you can't quite smother.
The sphere—Braxor—pulses with faint amusement. "Yes, yes, I know—quite the downgrade from divinity to cave decor. But even gods can have... setbacks." Its tone turns wry. "One moment you're bathing in the adoration of millions, the next you're buried under rubble, waiting for some half-starved mortal to dig you out."
You snort. "And yet you still expect me to believe you?"
"Believe me? Look around, Liam." Braxor's voice sharpens. "Demons stalk the earth. Dragons darken the skies. The very laws of nature unravel at the seams. And yet I'm the thing you find hard to swallow?"
A beat. Then, quieter: "Besides, a god doesn't need to lie. And you? Do you really have the luxury to worry about such things?"
[[Continue|What do want to know?]]"So, anything else you want to know?" The sphere asked as it pulsed with a low white glow.
[[Who are you?]]
[[Why are you a stone?]]
[[Do you know why the worlds become like this?]]
[[Why were your buried here?]]
[[What kind of god were you?]]
<<nobr>>
<<if $openingquestion1 == true && $openingquestion2 == true && $openingquestion3 == true && $openingquestion3 == true && $openingquestion4 == true>>
[[What are you exactly offering?]]
<</if>>
<</nobr>>"That is a long story," Braxor mused, "but I’ll spare you the divine theatrics. The truth is simple: I was betrayed."
A bitter edge crept into its tone. "Other gods—lesser gods—feared my influence. They whispered among themselves, spun tales of my ambition, convinced themselves I sought to devour their realms. Lies, of course. I had no such designs. But fear is a powerful motivator."
The sphere pulsed faintly, as if recalling the memory. "They joined forces, an alliance of cowards, and struck when my guard was lowest. Even a god can be overwhelmed when outnumbered. They shattered my form, scattered my essence... but to truly destroy a deity? That is no easy feat. So instead, they sealed what remained of me within this prison."
You leaned back, absorbing the tale. "So, what happened to them? Your betrayers?"
Braxor's light dimmed, as if considering. "I... do not know. When your world was first torn open, when the portals bled magic into this realm, I should have felt their presence. Gods are not so easily erased. And yet... silence."
A pause. Then, quieter: "Perhaps they, too, were sealed away. Or perhaps something far worse found them."
The cave felt colder suddenly. You glanced toward the entrance, half-expecting to see shadows shifting in the dark.
"Does it matter?" Braxor continued, its voice sharpening. "They are gone. I remain. And you, Liam, are standing at a crossroads."
[[Continue|What do want to know?]]
<<set $openingquestion1 = true>>"You want to know why portals are tearing open your skies? Why monsters and conquerors flood your world?" The fallen god’s voice took on a grim resonance. "Because your realm was discovered and has become another part of the Eternity Wars—a conflict older than stars, vaster than time itself. A war that was ancient before I first drew breath in my own forgotten world. The ones who are fighting now probably don’t even know why they fight."
The weight of those words settled over you. Somewhere beyond the cave, beyond the ruined towns and this very world, an unfathomable war raged—one that had now claimed your home.
You clenched your fists, your voice tight. "But why us? Why drag my world into this?"
Braxor let out a sound like a sigh, with an undertone of pity. "Why does any empire wage war? Resources. Territory. Power. Your world is rich in things the warring factions crave—minerals, fresh lands, and most of all…" A pause. "People."
The word landed like a knife between your ribs.
"People?" you repeated, your throat dry.
"Oh yes," Braxor said, almost casually. "An intelligent species is a valuable commodity. Labor. Soldiers. Sacrifices. Depending on which faction claims them, the fate of those taken can be… unpleasant."
A cold knot twisted in your gut. The invaders were harvesting them. Your friends, your family, anyone unlucky enough to be caught—they weren’t just dead. They were property now.
"So that’s it?" you whispered, your voice raw. "We’re just… fuel for their war?"
“Unfornatly so. Right now, they're being careful," Braxor continued. "Like farmers tending livestock. But once they've rounded up enough of your kind? Once the last free humans are broken or hidden? That's when the true war begins—the war over who gets to keep this world."
[[Continue|What do want to know?]]
<<set $openingquestion3 = true>>"I like to think I was a rather magnanimous deity," he mused, his voice dripping with self-satisfaction. "The kind of god people wanted to worship—generous with blessings, indulgent with pleasures, and, if I may say so myself, exceptionally easy on the eyes."
You rolled your eyes so hard it nearly hurt. "Clearly, you were not a god of humility," you muttered.
"Hah!" Braxor's laugh echoed in your head like temple bells. "Humility is for gods who lack presence. But me? Oh, if you could have seen me in my prime—towering, radiant, muscles nothing could compare with, my very silhouette bending the horizon. My virility alone could make mortal hearts stop." The sphere's glow flickered wistfully. "No, Liam, humility was impossible for one as glorious as I."
You squinted at the glowing orb, a suspicion forming in your mind. "Wait. You introduced yourself as Braxor the Indulgent and now you're being poetic about your... virility." A pause. "Were you—"
"A god of carnal delights? Absolutely," Braxor purred, utterly unashamed. "I held many domains—strength, ecstasy, the breaking of chains—but yes, the pleasures of the flesh were among my most celebrated blessings. The festivals in my honor? The orgies that lasted for days? The rivers that flowed with my followers cum and—"
"Okay, okay, I get it," you interrupted, shuddering. "Ew."
Braxor's glow dimmed in what you could only interpret as divine disappointment. "Oh, Liam," he sighed. "Your prudishness speaks volumes. Another of my domains was liberation, and you, my friend, are in dire need of sexual emancipation. To be disgusted by the mere mention of cum—"
"I swear to whatever’s left of you, if you finish that sentence—"
"—shows me just how repressed your species has become," Braxor continued, undeterred. "Ten thousand years ago, when your ancestors were still nomadic tribes, they understood the sacredness of desire. They didn’t flinch at the natural order of things. But now? Look at you. A starving, half-dead survivor, and still clutching your pearls at the mention of divine ejaculate."
You pinched the bridge of your nose. "I’m not ‘clutching pearls,’ I just don’t need a horny rock lecturing me about ancient orgies while I’m trying not to die."
Braxor chuckled, the sound rich and annoyingly melodic. "Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong. You do need this. Not just my power, Liam—my perspective. The invaders want to break your world? To grind your people into obedient slaves? Then you must remind them what it means to be free. To desire. To revel."
[[Continue|What do want to know?]]
<<set $openingquestion2 = true>>"I was cast into your world like a stone thrown into the void," he said, the words heavy with ancient bitterness. "Those cowardly gods who feared me made certain of my exile. Your realm was perfect for their purposes—a world devoid of magic, without a single soul who knew my name. Here, I was nothing. Just a rock among rocks, powerless, voiceless... forgotten."
The sphere pulsed weakly, as if reliving those centuries of silent imprisonment. "Imagine it, Liam. A god reduced to watching the slow march of ages, unable to so much as whisper to the ants crawling over my prison. I witnessed empires rise and fall, civilizations bloom and wither—all while trapped in perfect, impotent silence."
You leaned forward, your fingers tracing the cold stone floor. "If you couldn't speak to anyone before, why now? What changed?" Your eyes narrowed. "Does this have something to do with the portals?"
Braxor's light brightened momentarily. "Perceptive. Yes, when the dimensional gates tore open, they didn't just bring invaders—they flooded your world with magic's first breath. That energy, thin as it may be, is what finally gave me a voice again after eons of silence."
A bitter laugh seemed to echo through the cave. "Though let's be clear—this pitiful trickle of magic is a far cry from true divinity. In my prime, I could reshape reality with a thought. Now? I can barely manage parlor tricks and telepathic whispers."
You frowned. "But if magic is flowing into our world now—"
"Don't get ahead of yourself," Braxor interrupted. "The magic here is still newborn, unstable. It's like trying to light a bonfire with damp kindling. But..." The sphere's glow intensified. "It's a start."
[[Continue|What do want to know?]]
<<set $openingquestion4 = true>>Universal
<<set $debug = false>>
<<set $days = 0>>
<<set $empowerfollowers = 0>>
Stats
<<set $pclustmax = 100>>
<<set $pclustcurrent = 0>>
<<set $pclustgain = 5>>
<<set $rnglust = 1>>
<<set $lustloss = 1>>
<<set $pclevel = 1>>
<<set $divinity = 1>>
<<set $divinitymax = 20>>
<<set $divinitymod = 0>>
<<set $followers = 1>>
<<set $supplies = 10>>
<<set $suppliesgain = 0>>
<<set $suppliesloss = 0>>
<<set $divinitygain = $followers + $divinitymod>>
<<set $supplieschange = $suppliesgain - $followers>>
<<set $energymax = 3>>
<<set $energycurrent = 3>>
<<set $pclevel = 1>>
<<set $pcbody = 1>>
<<set $pcdick = 1>>
<<set $pcballs = 1>>
<<set $ballcost = 10>>
<<set $unitedstat = $pcbody + $pcdick + $pcballs>>
Opening
<<set $openingquestion1 = false>>
<<set $openingquestion2 = false>>
<<set $openingquestion3 = false>>
<<set $openingquestion4 = false>>
<<set $medicalsupplies = 1>>
<<set $menu = false>>
<<set $menu2 = false>>
<<set $apperance = false>>
<<set $race = "">>
<<set $pcname = "">>
<<set $rng = 1>>
<<set $rng2 = 1>>
<<set $base1appeal = 1>>
<<set $base1appealsoma = 1>>
<<set $firstexploring = false>>
<<set $equipment = 0>>The sphere flared with light, almost quivering with excitement.
“Ah, now we are finally approaching the important part.” Its voice thrummed, smug and dripping with anticipation. “As I told you before—I offer power. And you should count yourself among the blessed, for in the ages past mortals begged me for such gifts. They would crawl on their knees to ask for my touch, and when I answered, I transformed them into titans of desire. Warriors with cocks so vast and unyielding they never softened, endless fountains of life spilling from their loins—”
You threw up your hands, heat rising in your cheeks. “Okay! Okay, I get the picture! Spare me the… vivid details. That is not what I need right now. I’m trying to stay alive. There are monsters out there—and you’re offering me… weird sex blessings?”
The sphere’s glow shifted into something wry and patronizing.
“You mortals are so impatient. If you listened instead of recoiling, you’d know my pleasures were not my only gift. Desire was one pillar of my domain, yes, but another was strength. The kind of strength that shook mountains and parted oceans. I could place that same indomitable force into you. Imagine it—your enemies reduced to nothing beneath your grasp, your body transformed into a living fortress. Flesh like iron, sinew like steel…” He chuckled, low and self-satisfied. “And, incidentally, all that muscle is quite sexy too.”
Your heart skipped. Against your better judgment, curiosity cut through your skepticism.
“You can actually do that for me?” you asked, tentative, hopeful in spite of yourself.
A pause. Then Braxor's voice cracked, almost sheepishly.
“Well… technically no. Not in my current condition.”
Frustration flared hot in your chest. You very nearly reached for the glowing sphere, fully prepared to hurl the fallen god’s prison out of your cave without another word.
But before you could act, his voice sharpened, urgency slipping through the smug veneer.
“Wait! Do not be so hasty. I cannot grant you titan’s strength… not directly, not as I am now. But…” The sphere shimmered, its light taking on a subtle, dangerous hum that pulled at your gut. “I can offer you something greater than even that. I can give you… my mantle.”
[[You’re giving me your what?!?!]]"My mantle," he said, the words resonating with a power that felt both ancient and terrifyingly immediate. "Everything I was, everything I am, and everything I could be. It would be yours. My domains—Endless Strength and Unfettered Desire—and all the power and authority that comes with them. You would cease to be Liam, the starving survivor, and become a new god, a beacon of might and yearning in a broken world. The new god of Endless Strength and Desire"
The offer hung in the air, shimmering and immense. It was a promise of salvation woven from pure impossibility. You felt a dizzying pull toward it, a desperate hunger that had nothing to do with food.
"That seems... unbelievably promising. And therefore, too good to be true," you managed, your voice hoarse. "What's the real catch? There's always a catch."
"There are no tricks, no hidden clauses in this," Braxor insisted, his tone utterly earnest. "This is not a merchant's contract. It is a confluence of fates."
"And you could be lying," you countered, the survivor's instinct of distrust running deep.
"I have already told you, a god has no need for lies. But I will lay my soul bare so you might understand my desperation." The sphere's light flickered, and for a moment, you felt a wave of profound, aching loneliness emanate from it. "There is no physical escape for me from this prison. Even at the zenith of my power, I could not break these bindings. They were forged by a pantheon's combined will for that sole purpose. My current state is inextricably fused to this stone. The only path left to me for escape is… by giving my mantle away. Through you, I may live again. You would be my vessel, my counterpart. My rebirth into flesh and blood.”
"Wait," you interrupted, a cold dread mixing with the dizzying hope. "What happens to me in all this?"
"It is not a possession, not some parasitic takeover as you fear," Braxor explained, his voice patient but urgent. "Think of it not as me entering you, but as us... merging. Combining. You would remain yourself, your core identity intact, but infinitely more. I would not be a voice in your head; I would be the strength in your limbs and the fire in your heart. We would become a new, singular being. The mortal Liam and the god Braxor, fused into something that has never before existed. A deity born of mortal flesh and divine will."
"That still sounds like I'm losing something. Like I'm being erased."
"You would shed your mortality, yes. Your fragility, your fleeting years, your vulnerability to disease and a stray arrow. But not your memories, not your loves or your hates. My nature and your soul are already strangely compatible, which is why you could hear my voice at all. This means the core of who you are aligns with the core of what I am. The changes to your psyche would be minimal. Well," he added, a flicker of dry amusement returning, "except for your prudishness. That will likely be the first mortal constraint to burn away in our transformation."
"I'm not a prude!" you rebuked.
Braxor pressed on, ignoring the protest. "And with this new power, you would be able to do more than just defend yourself. You could defend your entire world. Earth was left a naked, shivering child before the wolves of the Eternity Wars. It has no gods, no champions. But with a true deity's power, you could push the invaders back. You could heal the scars they've left, make the very land itself rise up against them. You could fundamentally change your world for the better!"
"I still feel like there's a universe of consequences you're glossing over," you said, your mind reeling.
"There are eons of nuance I haven't explained, but we have no time!" Braxor's voice sharpened with a genuine, palpable fear. "You are fading, Liam. Your heart beats too slowly. I can feel the life flickering in you like a guttering candle. I do not make this offer lightly, and I do not make it just for my freedom. I have seen this before. I watched from my prison as my own world was scoured clean, my followers—innocent, joyful people—slaughtered to the last because they bore my name. I was forced to watch, helpless, as they screamed for a god who could not answer."
A profound, soul-crushing sadness poured from the sphere, so potent even you felt it. "I begged their killers for mercy. They laughed. I do not... I cannot watch that happen again. I cannot be helpless again. Let me help you. Let us stop it. I promise you, on whatever remains of my divinity, no harm will come to the essence of who you are. This is not an end. It is a beginning. For both of us."
The cave was silent, save for the ragged sound of your own breathing. Outside, the world was ending. In here a god was offering you its heart.
[[Consider You Options]]
You consider your options.
A part of you—the part that has been cold, hungry, and alone for five years—screams to say yes. It’s a primal, desperate urge to grasp at any chance, any shred of power that could turn the tide. The logic is brutally simple: what do you have left to lose? Your life is hanging on by a thread. If this is a trick, it merely hastens an end that is already rushing toward you. But if it is true… if even a fraction of it is true… you could do more than just survive. You could fight back. The idea of becoming a god is ludicrous, the height of arrogance. The god of "Endless Strength and Desire"? The first part sounds necessary. The second part sounds like a bad joke. But if the price for the power to save your world is adopting a title and dealing with… heightened urges… it is a price you would pay a thousand times over. Salvation is worth any personal cost, any shred of dignity.
But then, the other part of you—the cynical, scarred survivor who has watched the world die—shouts a warning. This is a talking rock in a cave, spinning a tale of cosmic war and fallen divinity. You’ve seen demons that wear beautiful skins to lure their prey, creatures that speak with honeyed tongues before they tear out a victim’s throat. This could all be an elaborate ruse. This "Braxor" could be one of them, a predator using a new tactic, offering you everything you desire to trick you into damning yourself, your soul, or worse, becoming a vessel for some unspeakable horror. Your instincts, honed by years of evading death, tell you to run. To leave the sphere buried, to retreat deeper into the familiar, desolate struggle for survival. It’s a known hell versus a potential, and far more terrifying, unknown.
You look at your hands, thin and trembling from malnutrition. You listen to the distant, alien sounds of the invaders reshaping the night. You feel the hollow ache in your stomach and the deeper ache of a world lost.
Braxor does not speak. He simply waits, his light a steady, patient glow. He has laid his desperation alongside yours. The memory of his sorrow—the genuine, gut-wrenching pain as he spoke of his slaughtered followers—felt too real, too raw to be a demon’s fabrication. But can you trust a feeling?
''What is your decision?''
[[Accept the Mantle]]: Grasp the offered power. Embrace the fusion with Braxor, shed your mortality, and become the nucleus of a new hope for a broken world. Risk everything on the word of a fallen god.
[[Reject the Offer|OpeningGameover]]: Seal the cave. Walk away. Trust your survival instincts over a spectral promise. Continue to scavenge, to hide, to live—or die—as a man, on your own terms.
Your eyes fell upon a heavy, jagged rock nearby, a piece of the very rubble that had once entombed the sphere. Without another word, you seized it. The weight was solid, real, a truth you could understand.
“WAIT! Liam, don’t! You’re making a terrible mistake! Please, just listen!” Braxor’s voice was no longer that of a confident, fallen god, but a panicked plea, echoing shrilly inside your skull. The light from the sphere flared wildly, casting desperate, strobing shadows.
You ignored it. The voice was just another predator, another danger in a world full of them. You shoved the rock over the opening, the grating screech of stone on stone drowning out his cries. You worked quickly, methodically, piling more debris atop it, burying the light, muffling the voice until it was nothing but a faint, tinny echo, and then… silence.
The cave was dark again, and for a moment, you felt a grim sense of victory. You had survived another threat. You had chosen the devil you knew.
But the victory was hollow. The cave, once your sole refuge, now felt tainted, its silence accusing. Your base was compromised. You couldn’t stay. Shouldering your meager pack—a few cans of putrid food, a canteen, a rusted knife—you slipped out into the twilight of the broken world.
For days you traveled. You followed the cracked asphalt of an old road, hoping it might lead to another community, another group of survivors clinging to existence.
It was on the third day that they found you. You were weak, your head swimming from hunger and exhaustion, your senses dulled. You never heard them coming. Shadows detached themselves from the ruins, moving with a sinuous, unnatural grace. Before you could even raise your knife, a crushing blow took your legs out from under you. The world spun, and a clawed, leathery hand clamped over your mouth, smelling of sulfur and ash.
You fought, of course. You kicked and scratched, a frantic animal in a trap. But it was useless. They were too strong. A demon, its eyes glowing like hot coals, hauled you up as if you weighed nothing. You were thrown into a crude iron cage on wheels, already occupied by a handful of other hollow-eyed captives. The door clanged shut with a finality that stole the air from your lungs.
The cage jolted into motion. Through the bars, you watched your world pass by—the world you had just doomed yourself to save from an uncertain fate, only to deliver yourself into a certain one. The demons marched with brutal efficiency.
The journey to the portal was a nightmare of fear and stench. And then you saw it—a massive, shimmering tear in the fabric of reality, swirling with colors that hurt to look at. An oppressive, alien energy washed over you, making your skin crawl. This was it. The point of no return.
As the cage was dragged toward that terrifying maw, a cold, profound dread settled in your soul. Braxor’s words echoed in your memory, now horribly prophetic: //"Labor. Soldiers. Sacrifices. Depending on which faction claims them, the fate of those taken can be… unpleasant."//
What awaited you? A life of back-breaking labor in some hellish mine? A short, brutal existence as a foot soldier thrown into the meat grinder of the Eternity Wars? Or was it something worse, something unspeakable? A ritual sacrifice to power some dark engine?
The cage lurched forward, crossing the threshold. The air changed, becoming thick and heavy, tasting of ozone and ash. The light shifted to a bloody, perpetual twilight. Alien landscapes of jagged obsidian and rivers of fire stretched out before you.
In that moment, as you were swallowed by a realm of nightmares, one thought, corrosive and full of a regret more painful than any wound, seared itself into your mind:
What would have happened if I had said yes?
Would it really have been worse than this? The abstract fear from back then compared to the very concrete horror of the chains now biting into your wrists. You had chosen to remain Liam, the man. And now, Liam the man was just another piece of property, dragged into the dark.
//''-GAME OVER-''//
"OK, then. What must I do?"
"It is already done," Braxor's voice replied, but it was different now. It no longer echoed from the stone but seemed to resonate from within your own soul. "The moment you accepted, the mantle passed to you. And now... the final confluence begins. I will become part of you, and you, part of me."
"What?!" You stumbled back a step, bracing yourself against the cold cave wall. You patted your chest, your arms, expecting to feel... something. A surge of energy, a crackle of power, anything. But there was nothing. Just the same trembling, malnourished body. "Really? I don't feel any different."
"Are you certain?" The inner voice was calm, a deep, knowing hum. "How is your stomach feeling?"
You paused, confused by the mundane question. "Um, I don't really feel anything. Why?"
"Weren't you just starving? Weren't your hands shaking from hunger? That gnawing, hollow ache that has been your constant companion for months... where has it gone?"
It struck you then, a realization so simple and yet so monumental it was dizzying. He was right. The hunger was simply... absent. That fatigue that made every movement a struggle had vanished.
"Oh," you breathed, your voice full of wonder. "Yeah. You're right. I don't feel hungry anymore."
"Gods do not hunger. Not for food, at least. But that is a lesson for another time." Braxor's presence within you felt like it was settling, finding its place. "Now, before my individual consciousness fades entirely into ours, we must attend to your vessel. A mortal form cannot contain a divine spark for long without being reshaped by it. My nature was born in a realm of primordial strength and form. Your body will instinctively seek a shape that reflects that power, drawing from the archetypes of my most devoted followers. I can guide the process. Show me a form you would find... pleasing."
As he spoke, a torrent of images flooded your mind's eye. Not just pictures, but sensations—the raw power of corded muscle, the formidable weight of dense bone, the intimidating silhouette of pure might. You saw his followers: not just humanoids, but a legion of perfected forms. Bipedal wolves with jaws that could crush steel, their fur like spun iron; great, scaled draconian beings with horns curling toward the sky and tails that could shatter stone; minotaurs with chests like barrels and bulk that strained against their own skin; tiger-like humanoids of thick, deadly muscle moving with liquid grace. Each was a masterpiece of hyper-muscular and fearsome anatomy.
Your form: <<listbox "$race">>
<<option "Lycan">>
<<option "Dragonian">>
<<option "Tigrans">>
<<option "Minos">>
<</listbox>>
[[Countine|Race&Name Select]]
<<if $race is "Lycan">>
A low, guttural sound rumbled in your chest, a vibration that felt both alien and deeply right. The word that formed in your mind was more instinct than thought, a primal archetype rising from the flood of images.
“Lycan…” you managed to growl, the term unfamiliar on your tongue yet feeling familiar.
From deep within your consciousness, Braxor’s presence swelled with a wave of warm, paternal approval. It was the pride of a father discovering their child shared similar interests.
“Ah, the Lycans,” his voice resonated, now a seamless thread in the tapestry of your thoughts. “A noble choice. A fierce and passionate people, governed by powerful instincts and unbreakable pack bonds. They were among the first to feel my influence in their world, to understand that strength is not just for taking, but for protecting. They built their entire culture around a sacred duty: to fight injustice and serve as unyielding shields for those too weak to defend themselves.”
A flicker of memory-not-your-own surfaced—a vision of towering, fur-clad wolf warriors standing back-to-back against a tide of shadowy beasts, their howls a defiant challenge to the darkness, their immense strength a bulwark for the cowering civilians behind them.
“Their loyalty was absolute,” Braxor continued, his tone softening with genuine affection. “And I rewarded that loyalty without measure. I indulged their deepest natures, stoked the fires of their strength and passions, celebrated their victories as my own. To see my essence find a home in this form once more… it is fitting. It is right. You are drawn to them because, at your core, you share their purpose. You have seen the ultimate injustice, the predation of your entire world. Now, you will have the strength to answer it.”
<<elseif $race is "Dragonian" >>
A deep, resonant certainty settled within you. The images of scaled warriors, of powerful tails and horns that curved like crowns, called to something primal and new in your soul. The decision felt less like a choice and more like a remembering.
“Draconians,” you said, the word leaving your lips not as a whisper, but as a low, rumbling declaration that seemed to vibrate through the stone beneath your knees.
From the core of your being, a warmth bloomed—a flicker of profound approval that was not your own, yet was inextricably part of you.
“Ah, the Draconians,” his voice echoed in your mind, now softer, more like a memory playing out than a separate entity speaking. “A prideful race, but not in the petty way of arrogance. Their pride was a fire that forged them. They believed that to exist was to strive, to always reach for a higher form of themselves, to push the boundaries of their own potential. They sought to prove themselves worthy of their magnificent ancestors… and of me.”
A wave of genuine, divine affection accompanied the thought. “And they always were. Worthy, that is. I never asked for blind worship. I asked for growth. And in turn, I helped them ascend, so they could lift others in their wake. Their greatest strength was not in their claws or their scales, but in their philosophy: a dragon does not hoard its treasure alone in a dark cave. It builds a lair where others can thrive in the radiance of its power. They were protectors, champions. They gave far more than they ever took. A truly noble race. It is a fine form to wear, Liam.”
<<elseif $race is "Minos" >>
“Minos,” you rumbled. The voice that left your throat was a deep, resonant baritone that vibrated through the cave.
From within, you felt Braxor’s satisfaction, a warm, approving hum that was now inextricably part of your own soul. “Ah, the Minos,” his voice echoed in your mind, now more a memory and an instinct than a separate entity. “An ancient, wandering race, proud and lost, adrift in the world until they found purpose in me. They were already giants among mortals, but I made them greater—their strength became legend, their will unbreakable. They were never lost again, for they always knew the path—not just through forests or over mountains, but the path to glory, to safety, to me.”
An image crystallized in your mind: a creature of immense, primal majesty. A Minotaur, but one ascended to a form of mythic perfection. Towering, easily eight feet tall, with a broad, powerful chest that spoke of impossible strength. Thick, dark fur covered legs that ended in heavy, cloven hooves capable of stamping the earth and cracking stone.
“They were shepherds of the lost,” Braxor’s essence continued, the history flowing into you like a river. “They used their gift of pathfinding to guide countless souls through perilous realms to sanctuaries of strength and prosperity. They did not conquer; they protected. They did not rule; they guided. A fine form, indeed. For the people of this broken world are now more lost than any the Minos ever shepherded. They will need you to be their guide. They will need you to show them the path to salvation.”
<<elseif $race is "Tigrans" >>
A single, potent image solidified in your mind, pushing aside the legion of other forms. It was a creature of both majestic grace and terrifying power—a bipedal tiger-like being, its frame a masterpiece of thick, corded muscle layered over a sleek, predatory skeleton.
“Tigrans,” you whispered, the name feeling both foreign and intimately right on your tongue.
Within you, Braxor’s presence hummed with approval, a warm, resonant echo in your soul. “Hmm, the Tigris,” he mused, his voice now a memory being woven directly into your being. “An inspired choice. They were a solitary, proud people, deep thinkers who dwelled in the twilight canopies of the emerald jungles of my realm. For eons, they kept to themselves, speaking to no other race.”
A flicker of shared memory—not yours, not entirely his, but theirs—passed through you. You saw a lone Tigris hunter, brave and curious, venturing beyond the sacred groves, drawn by whispers of a god who championed strength not just of body, but of will.
“A few brave souls sought me out,” Braxor continued, a note of fond pride in his tone. “They returned to their people not as conquerors, but as philosophers, speaking of a strength that came from embracing one’s deepest desires and truest self. They were slow to accept my teachings, their caution as deep as their jungles. But once they did, they became glorious. They learned that thick muscles need not sacrifice feline grace, and that true courage is not the absence of fear, but the will to act despite it. There was none braver than the Tigris who swore to me. Their courage was a quiet, deep-rooted thing, like the oldest trees. And courage is what we will need most for the task ahead.”
<</if>>
The last vestiges of Braxor’s separate consciousness dissolved, not vanishing, but fully integrating.
From the depths of this new, unified consciousness, the thought arose, clear and undeniable. It was voiced with a resonance that was both your own and something infinitely older, a rumble that vibrated through your chest.
"The union is complete. The mantle is worn. But we are now more than the sum of Liam, the survivor, and Braxor, the Indulgent. We are a new truth in this broken world, a divine instrument of strength and desire forged in the crucible of despair. To march into the eternity wars as either of our former selves would be a lie. A name is a promise. A declaration of intent. So, tell me," the voice within and around you continued, a hint of Braxor’s theatricality blending with Liam’s newfound resolve. "What shall we be known as?”
<<textbox "$pcname" "">>
[[Farewell]]<<if $pcname == "">>
<<goto "Race&Name Select">>
<</if>>
<<if $pcname == "Braxor" || $pcname =="braxor">>
"To cling to the syllables of our past would be an anchor on a vessel meant to sail the stars," Braxor mused. "It is a safe choice. But it is a echo, not a declaration. We are not a sum. We are a synthesis. A new truth born of desperation and divinity."
The power thrumming within you seemed to pulse in agreement. It was not a force of nostalgia; it was a force of becoming. To name yourself after what you were felt like trying to contain a hurricane in a bottle that had already shattered.
"But no matter," the voice continued. "The sentiment is acknowledged."
<<elseif $pcname == "Liam" || $pcname =="liam">>
"...Liam? After all this... you're really going to keep Liam?"
It was a question layered with the ghost of Braxor's flamboyant exasperation.
"You could be anything you want. Why cling to the name of a starving man who was moments from being demon-fodder in a cage? Ah, no matter," the presence sighed, its theatricality finally yielding. "It is done. A simple name for a profound purpose. So be it. Let the Eternity Wars learn the terror of a name they thought too insignificant to ever remember."
<<else>>
"A fine name! A strong name! Let it be a cry of war in the ears of our enemies!" the thought boomed, thrumming with the promise of violence. Then it softened, melting into a heated, intimate whisper that seemed to coil in the back of your mind.
"And let your followers scream it in their throes of pleasure and ecstasy, as they offer their devotion upon the altars of our strength. Let them chant it in the triumphant moments of their own self-improvement, when they break through their limits and touch the glory we offer. For we are not just a god of destruction, but of transcendence. Our name shall be on their lips in battle and in bed, in agony and in rapture. It shall be the last thing our enemies hear and the first prayer our devotees sigh. Let the very sound of it forge a new legend upon the anvil of this broken world."
<</if>>
You are now known as ''$pcname!''
“And with that, I take my leave, vanishing into the sea of your soul. But before I go, allow me to leave behind something that may guide you on your path toward godhood…”
Those were the final words of your predecessor, echoing faintly in your mind. As they faded, the glowing stone you had been fixated on slowly rose into the air, humming with a low vibration that resonated in your chest. Then, without warning, it burst in a blinding flash of radiance.
The brilliance was unbearable. You raised an arm to shield your eyes, squinting against the searing light. When it finally dimmed, a lingering afterimage danced in your vision. Blinking furiously, you lowered your hand and focused on the space where the stone had floated.
And froze.
Standing there—towering at least six feet tall—was a wolf-headed being. His fur was a sleek, storm-gray pelt flowing across a frame that was both lean and powerful, muscles coiled beneath his wild, beastly shape. A pair of alert, pointed ears flicked slightly as his golden eyes burned with cautious intelligence. His very presence radiated the sharpness of a predator and the mystery of something otherworldly.
Unfortunately… he was completely naked.
For a heartbeat, you were too stunned to process it. Then the horror set in. The good news: nothing indecent swayed in clear view. The bad news: his furry anatomy still left far too much on display.
Your mind spiraled instantly into panic.
[[Oh no a monster!]]
“W–Wha—?! Aah! Another monster!” you shouted, stumbling backward in raw fear.
The wolf man slowly raised his clawed hands in a placating gesture, his expression equal parts amused and exasperated. His deep voice rumbled in reply, calm and steady despite your outburst.
“I am not a monster,” he said simply.
The wolfman’s voice—deep, steady, undeniably human despite its rough timbre—made you falter. Your panic stilled, replaced by a rush of confusion. For a long, tense moment, you just stared at him, trying to reconcile the creature before you with the glowing sphere that had just spoken.
Your thoughts tumbled over themselves. The words of your predecessor still echoed faintly in your mind… but this being didn’t have the same presence, that same otherworldly resonance. Slowly, hesitantly, you found your voice.
“Wait… are you… Braxor?” you asked, your tone wavering between hope and disbelief.
The wolfman blinked once, then shook his head firmly. His pointed ears flicked back slightly, almost like a sigh.
“No. I am not your predecessor,” he replied, his voice calm. “He has already passed into the sea of your soul, just as he said. His time in this plane is over.”
“But,” he continued, his golden eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your skin prickle, “he did not leave you alone. He left me behind—an echo, a guardian, perhaps even… a companion, if you’ll have me. My task is to help you grow into the role he’s entrusted to you. To steady your first steps upon the path toward godhood.”
He placed his clawed hand against his chest in a gesture that almost resembled a bow.
“My name is Soma.”
A storm of questions battered your mind. Who was Soma truly? What did Braxor mean by leaving him behind? How was he suppose to help you? The weight of it all pressed down on you until your thoughts felt like they were unraveling.
Then, without warning, the strength drained from your body. It was as if someone had pulled the very core of your energy straight out of you. Your knees buckled, trembling beneath your weight, while your breath came shallow and ragged.
The world tilted. Shadows crept at the edges of your vision, blurring the sharp lines of Soma’s towering form. You tried to speak, to hold onto consciousness, but your lips moved soundlessly, no words escaping.
A crushing weariness smothered you. Your arms felt like lead, your heart thudded painfully in your chest, and then—darkness.
Your body gave way, collapsing to the ground as the world slipped from your grasp and you sank helplessly into black oblivion.
[[Sleep|Sleepopening]]At first, it is only sound—the echo of screams, the crackle of flames, the unnatural hum of rifts tearing themselves open across the sky. The air itself had split apart that day, and through the portals poured doom: twisted shadows, fire made flesh, and the terrible, graceful figures of beings who looked like elves of stories—yet cruel and merciless beyond imagination.
You remember the terror as if it were happening again.
Buildings burned around you, fire licking through the streets. The ground trembled beneath the weight of otherworldly war beasts, howls filling the night. You watched friends—people you had laughed and lived beside—dragged away in chains, screaming until their voices broke. Some were struck down where they stood, their bodies left strewn across the stone like broken dolls.
And you?
You could do nothing. No weapon in your hands, no strength in your limbs. Just fear. Helpless, desperate, choking on smoke and despair. The only choice left to you was the one your instincts made for you.
You ran.
Through broken streets, past burning rooftops, over corpses you refused to look at. You ran, and you kept running, until your lungs threatened to collapse and your heart battered your ribs like a war drum.
And still you ran.
The world blurred behind you into shadow and flame until, at last, your legs buckled beneath you. You could run no further—not from the screams, not from the terror, not from yourself.
It was then—beyond the smoke, beyond the ruin—that you saw it: a radiant point of light, impossibly bright and pure, shining through the darkness like a beacon calling just for you.
You staggered toward it, your body breaking, your mind screaming with desperation. The light grew and grew until it consumed the flame, consumed the shadows, consumed even the sound—just swallowing all of it into brilliant silence.
And then—you wake.
[[Opening awakening]]“Ahhh!”
You screamed as you bolted upright, drenched in cold sweat. Your chest rose and fell in frantic rhythm, breath coming in ragged gasps as your eyes darted wildly around the space. For one bone-deep, terrifying second, you expected to see flames, cages, the chaos of the portals again.
But instead—you were still in your cave.
Though… it looked different. Cleaner.
Blowing out cautious breaths, you blinked and took it all in. The dirt floor, once littered with scraps and dust, had been neatly swept and smoothed. Soma was actually wielding a broom, briskly sweeping the cave floor. Where he even found a broom, you had no idea. Behind him, you noticed something startling: the entrance to the cave now had a makeshift wooden door fitted into the archway, braced carefully in its stone frame. It sealed against the draft that usually plagued your nights.
And then, above your head, you spotted a faint glow. Mushrooms—bioluminescent caps of pale blue and silver—clung to cracks in the stone ceiling, bathing the cavern in soft, ethereal light. They hadn’t been there before.
It all felt strange. Surreal. Even… safer.
Soma paused and turned at the sound of your voice, ears perked. Without hesitation, he leaned the broom neatly against the wall and crossed the room to kneel beside you. Despite his imposing frame and beast-like visage, there was a deliberate gentleness in his movements, as though every action was measured not to alarm you.
“I see that you are awake, my lord,” Soma said, lowering his head slightly in a show of respect.
Still trembling, you rubbed your temples against the sharp ache splitting your skull. “What… happened?” you muttered, your voice hoarse.
“You collapsed,” Soma explained, his deep tone calm but warm. “When your predecessor crafted me, too much of your own power was consumed in the process. The strain overcame you.” His golden eyes softened, though his expression remained firm. “Since then, I have cared for your body and prayed for your swift recovery.”
You blinked at him, uncertain whether to be reassured or unsettled.
“Please, rest,” Soma continued, bowing his head once more. “Allow your loyal servant to tend to your needs and your shelter until you regain your strength. And should you require anything—no matter how small—do not be afraid to command me. I exist to serve you.”
With that, he rose to his feet and, without further hesitation, resumed his work—this time carefully binding loose wooden planks to reinforce the new door.
For a moment, you could only sit there, stricken by the surreal sight of a wolf-man dutifully cleaning your cave like some kind of holy retainer. Eventually, as the pounding in your head dulled, you obeyed his suggestion and lay back down, letting yourself rest for a time.
But rest only dulled your questions—never erased them. And after a while, determination pressed you upright again. You swung your legs from your bed and crawled carefully to your feet. Exhaustion still weighed heavily on your frame, but you couldn’t ignore it forever.
Too much had changed. Too much remained unclear. And you would have to face this world sooner or later.
[[Countine]]<<if $menu2 is true>>
''Days: $days''
''__Stats__''
Name: $pcname
Form: $race
Deity Level: $pclevel
Lust: $pclustcurrent/$pclustmax (+$pclustgain)
Energy: $energycurrent/$energymax
Divinity: $divinity/$divinitymax (<<if $divinitygain >0>>+<</if>>$divinitygain)
''__Resources__''
Faith: 1/1
Supplies: $supplies (<<if $supplieschange >0>>+<</if>>$supplieschange)
Followers: $followers
<</if>>That's the end of the demo.
Be sure to come back later when I have more!
''__Thank you for playing!__''