Your New Life as a Demon Lord

NOTE: Don't forget to hit "Start Game" before you read! Also, there are variables for you to customize! As the story progresses, the game function will track your choices. For example, you won't randomly use a weapon you don't have, or talk to a person who shouldn't be there, that sort of thing.

NOTE 2: This is my first (and maybe only, who knows >m<) story on Chyoa. I'm both nervous and excited to hear from people. I have a plan for this story, for the most part, but that doesn't mean I'm unwilling to take feedback into consideration. I look forward to hearing what people think!

You find yourself sitting on a hard wooden stool in an infinitely expanding darkness. The only thing besides yourself and the stool that you can see is a mossy stone archway, standing firmly rooted to the invisible ground about twenty feet in front of you. You don't have time to wonder how you got here, because a voice from nowhere answers that question for you.

"Hello, Evan Reynolds," says the Voice. It sounds distinctly like a text-to-speech bot. "Welcome to the Space Between Spaces. You may be shocked to hear that you have died. While this is unmistakably the case, fear not. Your soul has been selected for reincarnation. In accordance with the Law of Second Chances, you will be blessed with a higher maximum power threshold and rate of development than is typical in your new environment. Warning: User will enter world with stats based on current state at time of . A portal will open shorty before you. Beyond the portal lies a world vastly different from the one you know."

"Different how, exactly?" you ask, unable to contain your curiosity. Somehow, your brain has already accepted that you're dead and has moved on to whatever you're getting yourself into here. Quickly, you add, "I'm not ungrateful or anything. I would just like to know what I'll be walking into."

The Voice doesn't respond. You sit there for several minutes and nothing happens.

Well, shit, you think. Am I stuck here now? There goes my chance at having a harem of sexy fantasy women, I guess.

Another minute passes in silence, and your worry becomes a heavy dejection.

Looks like it's just me, a stool, and a piece of rock here for all eternity. Yippee.

Suddenly, a single ray of white light appears in the center of the empty space between the columns of the stone archway. The light pushes out, accompanied by a whooshing noise that brings to mind the image of steam billowing out of a pot of boiling water. As the light reaches towards the edges of the archway, it fractures into every color imaginable, resulting in a beautiful rainbow of colors spreading from the central point and slowly shifting within the bounds of "the portal." Without a second thought, you stand and take a step towards the magical gateway. Then you stop, the phrase "don't go towards the light" pinging through your head. You turn around, but the stool has now vanished. There's nowhere left to go.

When you turn back towards the portal, you see a figure appear from it. It's a beautiful woman with flowing silver hair that reaches down past her shoulders. She has bright blue eyes, long, pointed ears, and is wearing something akin to a nun's habit, only it's all white and she has no veil to go with it. The woman before you holds herself with elegance and looks upon you with a smile. You can't help but let your imagination run wild over what she's hiding under all that fabric. She's a petite woman, but not without assets: her garb can't completely hide the swell of her bosom, especially while she innocently clasps her hands at her waist to inadvertently press them together with her arms. You have to make do with imagining what the rest of her figure might look like under the loose habit, though.

"I am the Goddess Ithwen," she says. "I wish to welcome you to my world, oh lost soul." She reaches out a hand, palm up and welcoming. It’s clear that she wants you to take it and go with her, but you have other ideas. To offer you her hand so freely: such a show of blind faith in you can’t go unrewarded.

You take the hand, and then quickly pull the goddess into you, reaching your other hand around her back and holding her tightly in an embrace. Her ample bosom presses into your chest, sending a tingle through your manhood. She squeals and looks up into your face, wide-eyed and open-mouthed. You take the opportunity to lean in and your tongue into her open mouth, which is met by another small squeal of protest but otherwise very little resistance. Her body yields to you for a brief few seconds before she regains her senses, screams, and pushes you away.

"W-w-w-what did you just... how could you do that to me?" she asks, her words quick and her voice a much higher pitch than before.

"You're a very attractive woman, Ithwen," you say. This puts her on the back foot, so you keep it up. "Sexy as hell beneath those clothes, I bet.” You take one step forward, and she steps back. “I hope I’m not the first person to say this to you.” She continues backing away from your steady advance until her back hits one of the columns of the portal. With nowhere left to run, you close the gap and hold her cheek in your hand. “A body like yours deserves lots of attention." Her face is inches from yours, her eyes bugging out and her cheeks flooding with color.

"I — but, you, we — we can’t!" she says before pushing you away again. “That’s right! I’m a goddess of purity! What you suggest is not but lust!” The silver-haired goddess balls her fists and holds them against her sides, her eyes pinched shut in frustration. "Ugh. This wasn’t supposed to be like this," she says, her voice catching as she holds back tears. "A monster like you, in my world? I won't allow it."

"The portal has been opened. Failure to enter portal within thirty seconds will result in automatic teleportation."

The Voice is back, and it says to get a move on. Ithwen steps in front of the portal, hangs her head, and raises her arms out in a show of not letting you pass.

"I will be instructing my archangel to brand you as a Demon Lord," she says, her gaze locked on the floor between her and you. “Heroes will make it their life’s work to destroy you. I shall not allow your lust to corrupt my precious world."

You can't help but notice her already flushed face becoming an even deeper shade of red as she makes her declaration. With your thirty seconds counting down fast, you decide to give this pure goddess one last tease for the road. Closing the gap between you is a quick two strides for your tall frame, and before she can react you have her in your grip once again. With one hand pressing her body tightly to yours, your other grips her chin and gently raises it up until she is to meet your gaze once more. In this moment, she wears an anger that you can't help but feel isn't entirely directed towards you. Seeing her struggle so much to deny you allows you to make up your mind.

"I swear to break the chains that bind you," you say, before passionately kissing her again. You hold her there for as many seconds as you have left, her body tense and shaking in your grasp. Then, everything is gone, and you feel like you're falling.

...

You're immediately blinded by sunshine. Shading your eyes with an arm, you look around as your ears are filled with the sounds of people talking and moving about. All around you, people are carrying baskets of food and various other small items as they move from stall to stall in the market you've suddenly appeared in. The people are dressed modestly, much to your disappointment. So much for the sexy clothes people wear in MMORPGs, you think. Guess I shouldn’t have gotten my hopes up. As you continue to people-watch, you notice all manner of non-humans: there are people walking around with cat ears, bunny ears, and elf ears, and there are also people half your size who you decide are probably either dwarves or halflings. You can’t spot anyone with green, red, or gray skin, nor do you see anyone you’d consider a “monster girl,” but just because there aren’t any in this market right now, that doesn’t mean races like orcs and demons don’t exist in this world.

Your eyes fall on a person wearing a brown cloak with the hood pulled over their face: the epitome of a person of interest trying not to be seen. You watch as they cross the market and enter a building near the far end. The building has a sign above it, written in a language that is definitely not English, but you somehow still understand it. It's a tavern called "The Full Tankard." Your feet are moving before you realize, and in seconds you find yourself pulling open the door.

The inside is largely what you'd expect to find: an open room with tables spread about, windows along the front letting in natural light, decorative shields and artwork hanging on the walls, and a bar in the back. You can't see the hooded figure anywhere. In fact, the place is totally empty of people except for a man standing behind the bar wiping down mugs.

"We are not open yet," says the man. He's wearing a navy blue vest over a black necktie and white dress shirt. Blonde, chin-length hair frames his spotless complexion and serious expression. He works the drinkware in his hands with an air of professionalism, easily able to keep an eye on you as he dutifully carries out his task. "Come back when you hear the music."

Come back later? Really? You’re not one to follow orders lightly. Also, thinking about it, you're literally in a bar at the start of your isekai adventure. This is so cliché it’s killing you, but it’s still an important opportunity: it's time to get some gossip from the bartender and learn a bit about wherever the fuck you are right now. Also, you haven't forgotten about that cloaked person who up and disappeared in here. As loudly as you can manage, you start to whistle the first song that comes to mind as you walk up to the bar and sit right in front of the man cleaning mugs.

"Is that supposed to be music?" asks the man, clearly not amused by your smart-ass response to him telling you to leave. Now that you’re close to him, you notice the tips of his ears poking through his hair. He’s an elf!

“Trust me, you don’t want to hear me try to sing,” you say. The elf doesn’t look at you, or laugh, or otherwise do anything to acknowledge your joke. “Anyway, I came in here hoping I could earn enough for a place to sleep tonight. Have any work that needs doing? I could help you with those mugs, or wipe down the tables, or even go out in the market and tell people to come here for their drinks. I’m new in town, though, so having me do deliveries if you have them would be a mistake.”

“How kind of you to rule out a job no person in their right mind would trust to a stranger,” says the elf. “Unfortunately for you this establishment is run properly, and as such the tables are clean and I am more than capable of finishing this drinkware myself before we open for the evening. What was your other proposition? Advertising? This tavern is actually quite popular on its own, I would have you know.” His words say angry, but you’d never guess by his perfect poker face.

“Okay, okay, sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it, I just need to find some cash before tonight. Could I ask you about the town, then, since I’m new here?”

“I would rather you not,” says the elf, “but you don’t seem like the type to take no for an answer.”

“Not true, actually,” you say. “Consent is important. I just sometimes find that the consent is earned during or after, not always before.” This makes him pause for a second, no doubt needing a moment to process what you just said. “Know any cheap inns?”

The elf returns to his task. “The Wayside will give you a room for five coppers, but do not expect to sleep well.”

“Why not? Are the owners too loud when they’re fucking or something?” You hear a shuffling sound, followed by a light thud against the bar. Both sounds came from below you to your right. Instinct almost makes you lean over the counter to investigate, but then you notice the icy glare that the bartender is giving you. Barely able to restrain yourself, you sit and pretend like you didn’t hear anything.

Before looking back to the mug in his hands, he says, “How uncouth of you to suggest such a thing. May the Goddess save you.”

“Actually I intend to save her.”

“You say the most bizarre things.”

The elf writes out directions to the inn called The Wayside for you, again in the strange language you somehow understand. With this, you decide it’s time to get a move on. You never found the cloaked person of interest, though you would hazard a guess to say they were hiding under the bar a second ago. If luck is on your side, maybe you’ll see them again, but for now it’s time to get out of this clearly very annoyed bartender’s hair. You thank the elf for his time and exit the building, once again stepping out into the bustling market square.