InsideUnending Abyss, heroes are always born.
And they always fail. That world had a prophecy. A church. A holy sword and a summoning ritual. Every few decades, a new "hope" would appear to challenge the Demon King.
But the result never changed.
They all died.
Because that world was never designed to have a happy ending.
And the one who created that world… was Hax.
A twenty-eight-year-old man who now held a spatula more often than a programming keyboard.
He created the game when he was younger—back when he still believed becoming a game developer was his future. Unending Abyss was his idealistic project. Simple pixel art. A classic RPG system.
With one cruel experiment.
The Demon King in that game wasn't just a final boss. He was an entity with Absolute Scaling—a power that would always remain one level above his opponent.
No matter how much the player grinded.
No matter how optimized their build was.
The Demon King would always be stronger.
There was no ending.
No loophole.
No victory.
Hax used to call it "a critique of cheap power fantasy."
Now, he wasn't even sure if it had just been arrogance.
That day, while cleaning his house before moving, he found an old CD lying in the storage room.
Dust covered it like a layer of time.
The faded words on its surface were still barely readable:
Unending Abyss
"…It's been a long time."
He gave a small smile and wiped it with the cloth on his shoulder. Without thinking much of it, he inserted it into his laptop, just wanting to see whether his old project could still run.
The disc began to spin.
But the screen didn't light up immediately.
His reflection on the monitor looked… darker than it should have been.
The cursor blinked.
Developer Authority Detected.
Core System Awakening.
Hax frowned.
"What?"
The air around him grew heavy. A low hum filled the room. The laptop screen seemed to curve inward, like the surface of water being pushed from the other side.
Then a black crack appeared.
Not a physical crack—
but a fracture in space itself.
Before he could even stand, gravity shifted.
And his body was dragged in.
- - -
Wind.
That was the first thing he felt when his consciousness returned.
Warm. Real.
He slowly opened his eyes.
A vast blue sky stretched above him. Too clear. Too perfect.
He sat up, feeling grass beneath his palms. When he squeezed it, a fresh, earthy scent filled his nose.
This wasn't a dream.
He stood.
And immediately realized something was wrong.
His shadow was too tall.
His perspective felt different.
Slowly, he looked at his hands.
Pitch-black armor covered them down to the fingertips.
Not just black—the surface swallowed light. The midday sun did not reflect off it. It was as if light itself refused to linger there.
His heart began to pound.
He recognized the design.
He had drawn it himself.
"…No way."
He raised his hand and tried something that felt far too familiar to ignore.
"System: Inventory."
The air in front of him trembled.
But instead of a simple transparent UI window—
Space split open.
A dark rift appeared, like a bottomless chasm. Inside, item icons floated in the void as if sinking in a black sea.
Red text slowly formed at the corner of his vision.
ROLE ASSIGNED: Demon King
Narrative Lock: Inactive
Termination Condition: Undefined
Hax went silent.
Narrative Lock… inactive?
He knew exactly what that meant. In the code of Unending Abyss, Narrative Lock was the mechanism that bound the world to a fixed storyline—heroes were born, tragedy struck, the Demon King rose, and the cycle of destruction repeated.
That system was never supposed to be disabled.
But here, its status was Inactive.
Which meant—
This world was not locked to the script he had written.
No mandatory route.
No fate enforced by code.
His gaze shifted to the final line.
Termination Condition: Undefined.
Not "None."
Not "Immortal."
Undefined.
His heartbeat grew heavier.
"This isn't… exactly my game."
He tried another command.
"System: World Map."
A second rift opened.
But the map that appeared was not the continent he had designed years ago. There was no Kingdom of Lumeria. No Ashval Mountains. No Obsidian Fortress—the final dungeon he once took pride in.
Instead, unfamiliar lands stretched before him, marked with names he had never written.
Different topography. Different coastlines. Even the constellations in the sky—when he looked up—formed patterns he didn't recognize.
The system was the same.
The structure was identical.
The font. The color of the text. Even the way the window "cracked" before opening—it was all his code.
But this world—
Was not the one he created.
He closed both system windows. The black fractures sealed themselves like healing wounds.
The wind swept across the grassland once more.
He stood there in the black armor he had designed—the Demon King's armor—yet without any script binding him to inevitable destruction.
No storyline.
No predetermined ending.
No system forcing him to be humanity's enemy.
Just a role.
And freedom.
Slowly, he exhaled.
If Narrative Lock was inactive—
Then this world had no fixed destiny.
And if this world wasn't his creation—
Then there was another possibility.
Someone… or something… had taken the system he built and implanted it into an entirely different world.
The question was no longer whether he was the Demon King.
The real question was—
Why would a world he never created assign him that role?
- - -
Hax didn't head to the city immediately.
He wasn't foolish enough to walk in wearing suspicious black armor without knowing anything about this world.
He slowly raised his hand.
"System: Random Teleportation."
Space folded like crumpled paper. A dark rift opened, slowly rotating.
The skill existed.
He had designed it himself as the Demon King's emergency ability—random teleportation within a certain radius, unpredictable and difficult to trace.
Without hesitation, he stepped inside.
—
Different wind.
Different sky.
Different trees.
He appeared atop a rocky cliff—then used the skill again seconds later.
And again.
Each jump felt like the world was being unplugged and reconnected.
A misty swamp.
A stony hillside.
A forest of silver-leafed trees he had never designed.
This was not his map.
After several random teleports, he finally appeared on a small hill.
And from there—
He saw it.
A city.
Its walls were wide and tall, built from pale stone fitted tightly together. A great river flowed around it like a natural moat, its surface glittering under the sun.
The main gate stood open. People lined up to enter.
Hax observed for a moment before walking down the hill.
Four men in heavy iron plate armor stood at the gate. Open-faced helmets. Swords at their waists. Upright posture. Sharp gazes.
City guards.
They inspected everyone who entered, asking their purpose and checking belongings.
When Hax's turn came, conversations nearby slowed.
Several people turned to look.
His black armor stood out too much.
One guard stepped forward.
"Halt. State your identity and your purpose in coming to this city."
His voice was firm, but not hostile.
"I've just arrived in this region," Hax replied calmly. His voice sounded slightly deeper, faintly resonating behind the helmet. "I have no identification."
The guard narrowed his eyes.
"Do you possess official documents? If not, you must pay an entry fee as a temporary security measure. The money can be reclaimed once you obtain identification."
Money?
Hax didn't know the currency of this world.
But he knew one thing.
Inside his Inventory—the treasure vault of the Demon King's castle—lay mountains of gemstones and precious metals.
He discreetly opened a small rift beside his thigh, hidden from others' view.
His hand dipped into the black void and retrieved something.
A thumb-sized red gem.
He handed it to the guard.
"Will you accept this as payment? I carry no currency."
The guard took it—and froze.
His eyes widened.
"Th-That's a Fir Stone?! Where did you get this?!"
The other guards tensed instantly.
Hax hid his reaction behind the helmet.
So it wasn't an ordinary ruby.
"From a monster," he answered briefly. "I'm an adventurer."
He wasn't even sure monsters existed here—but with the system active, the odds were high.
The guard examined his armor again.
"Your armor is unfamiliar… and its quality isn't something local smiths could produce. You truly aren't from around here."
After a moment, he exhaled.
"Very well. I'll accept this as temporary collateral."
"I can give it to you," Hax said calmly. "I have many more."
The guard immediately raised both hands.
"N-No! We do not accept bribes!"
Interesting.
So the concept of bribery existed here.
"Then," Hax continued evenly, "provide me with information about this region and its fundamentals. Consider it an exchange of value."
After some hesitation and a brief whisper with his companions, the guard finally agreed.
Near the gate stood a small tented post against the city wall.
There, the guard spread a rough piece of paper across a wooden table.
"A simplified version," he said.
A map.
"This is the continent of Alvost. And we are here—the border region of the Kingdom of Etravia."
Unfamiliar names. An unfamiliar continent.
"For currency," the guard continued, taking out three different coins, "one gold coin equals one hundred silver coins. One silver equals one hundred copper."
He tapped a larger coin.
"There's also a greater gold coin bearing the royal crest. It's worth roughly a thousand standard gold coins. Only nobles possess them. They're rarely spent—more like symbols of honor from the King."
A thousand gold.
Hax stored that information.
"Also," the guard added, "there's something that might interest you as an adventurer."
He took out a worn little book.
"Grimoire."
The cover was faded. The edges worn.
"Artifacts scattered throughout the world. Anyone who reads one gains a Blessing—a unique ability. But only once. After use, the book disappears."
The guard raised his hand.
A faint light appeared.
Clear water droplets formed in the air, flowing into a small stream before gathering inside a wooden container.
"I found it at the bottom of a river while saving a drowning child. This Blessing lets me create about fifty cups of clean water per day. After that, it won't work again until tomorrow."
The water was real.
Not an illusion.
Hax observed carefully.
His system had never included Grimoires like this.
This was not part of Unending Abyss.
Which meant this world had its own mechanisms—beyond the system he carried.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
He now knew two things:
His system was real.
And this world was not his creation.
For the first time since arriving—
He truly felt free.
- - -
By the time Hax finally passed through the city gate, the sun had begun to set.
Inside, the atmosphere shifted instantly.
Stone-paved roads stretched between two- and three-story wooden and stone buildings. Slanted roofs with reddish clay tiles. Thin smoke rising from chimneys, blending with the scent of baked bread, smoked meat, and horse sweat.
Wagon wheels creaked.
Merchants shouted.
Children ran through alleyways.
It was alive.
Hax walked slowly, his black armor swallowing the orange glow of sunset. People instinctively gave him space. Some stared curiously. Others quickly looked away.
He didn't mind.
Right now, he needed one thing:
Money.
As the Demon King in his game, he had never designed an economic system. The treasures in his castle were merely symbols of power—limitless loot never truly meant to be used.
But here, he needed coins to rent a room for the night.
He recalled the guard's explanation.
Was there a bank? A money exchanger? A financial institution?
He followed the main road, studying the wooden signs hanging outside buildings. A hammer—blacksmith. Wheat—grocer. A foamy mug—tavern.
Then he saw a sign depicting a crossed sword and shield.
Below it:
Adventurer's Guild — West Etravia Branch
Hax stopped.
The concept was painfully familiar.
If this world followed standard fantasy logic, this would be the center for monster item transactions, quest requests, and official adventurer registration.
And he had plenty of "drops."
He pushed open the heavy wooden door.
The interior was lively. Long tables filled with armed men and women. Swords leaned against chairs, spears against walls. Rough laughter mixed with clinking mugs.
But the moment he stepped in—
The noise dimmed slightly.
Heads turned.
His black armor was too conspicuous. Too silent amid the noise.
On the left side stood a long counter with a notice board behind it. A young woman stood there—brown hair neatly tied back, wearing a dark green guild uniform with a small shield emblem on her chest.
The receptionist.
Hax approached.
She looked up—and froze.
Her gaze slowly traveled from his seamless black helmet to the armored hand resting on the counter.
"G-Good afternoon…" Her voice trembled slightly. "How may I assist you?"
"I'd like to exchange some items," Hax replied calmly.
He could feel the tension around them.
"I'm sorry… only registered adventurers may exchange monster materials or items. Otherwise, they could be suspected of theft."
Reasonable.
"Then register me."
With an adventurer's identification, moving around would be easier.
"Very well… For registration, I require your name and a small sample of blood for magical identity binding."
Blood.
For a moment, time slowed.
Blood.
Hax fell silent.
Behind the helmet, his thoughts raced.
He was Undead.
A Living Armor.
He had no flesh. No veins. No heart.
If he removed his gauntlet—
There would be no skin beneath.
Only emptiness.
"Is there a problem?" the receptionist asked cautiously.
Nearby adventurers began watching.
Hax slowly raised his hand.
Inside the black armor, he felt the core of his existence—something like faint pressure at his center. Not an organ. Not solid.
More like a vortex.
"System," he called inwardly.
A dark interface appeared at the edge of his vision.
He scanned quickly.
Undead Physiology.
Core Manifestation.
Mana Condensation.
A possibility emerged.
If he had no blood—
He could replace it.
He clenched his fist.
At the tip of his finger, dark red light condensed. Mana compressed, structured, temporarily given biological properties.
He moved his armored fingertip over the counter.
A single drop of red liquid fell.
Glossy.
Warm.
Artificial.
But stable.
The receptionist carefully touched a small registration crystal to the drop. The crystal glowed faintly and absorbed it.
Several seconds passed.
No alarms.
No strange reaction.
She exhaled softly.
"Registration successful… Your name?"
He paused.
He couldn't casually use his real name.
But he didn't want to lie completely either.
"Hax."
She wrote it onto a thin metal card and touched it to the crystal again.
"From today onward, you are an E-rank adventurer."
She handed him the card.
It felt cold against his black gauntlet.
Identity.
Access.
The first step in this unfamiliar world.
"Now," she continued, slightly calmer, "what would you like to exchange?"
Hax discreetly opened his Inventory—a small rift appearing at his side, unseen by others.
He considered something of modest value.
A low-tier monster fang from the castle's collection.
Or perhaps a smaller gemstone shard.
He had to be careful.
Standing out too much would attract unwanted attention.
And for the first time since arriving—
The Demon King would have to learn how to live like an ordinary adventurer.