You were reborn in another world, destined to become the hero of humanity. For years, you trained relentlessly, mastering the sacred arts and claiming both the legendary armor and the sword of your people. Now, the moment has come. After a grueling journey through the demon armies, you've fought your way to —the throne room of the Demon King, Abaddon.

Sitting before you, legs crossed, arm resting lazily as he supported his head. You charge forward, your sacred sword cutting through the air, but something's wrong. Despite your strength, your blade cannot reach him—it's as though an invisible force repels your every strike. Years of training... for what?

Exhaustion takes over. You fall to your knees, chest heaving, your breath ragged, sweat pouring down your face. Your strength, your will, it all seems to be slipping away.

"How disappointing... over already?...However, I will commend your strength in getting this far. You possess greater power than most... but alas, a misguided fool you are."

"It would be a waste to simply kill you. To punish humanity, I need not destroy its hero. No... I shall take the hero’s bloodline for myself."

With a snap of his fingers, a strange coffin, shaped like a stunning, figure—a beautiful female form. The coffin opens. "Your sacred equipment... it’s in the way." before you can react, your armor vanishes. Suddenly, tendrils of darkness shoot from the coffin, wrapping around you, pulling you in.

As the coffin seals shut, You're completely immobilized. your body begins to shift and change, though you cannot yet see what is happening.

When the coffin finally creaks open, you're released, your chest bouncing? falling onto all fours one arm holding yourself up and the other instinctively goes to cover your chest, gasping for air. Sweating, your body no longer as it once was. You look down at yourself.

you gasp, trembling as you see your hands, now slender and clawed. The soft curves of your chest, the sensation of unfamiliar weight, and the demonic marking above your hips.