Chapter 1
Prologue – The First Offering

«It was a fake life.»

He had followed another man’s path, mimicking his habits and gestures, for forty long years. So long that even his own name had faded from memory.

He was the tyrant’s shadow. A decoy. Whenever the emperor faced death, it was his job to die instead. That was all his life ever amounted to.

Through the long years, crises came again and again; poisonings, acts of terror, ambushes, treason. Each time a new danger arose, another false emperor died. And when the enemy sounded their victory horns, the tyrant would return, as if summoned by a curse, and unleash a festival of blood.

He killed without hesitation. Over and over. No one was spared, relatives, allies, even the offspring of the offspring of the dogs who had wagged their tails at traitors. He hunted them all down.

Every time the enemies grew in number, the stand-ins fell one, two, three, four until they were too many to count. And in the end, only one remained.

«It’s your turn. His Majesty is unwell. Be his mask while he recovers,» someone had said. A simple command.

That was the first time he took the throne. The first time he became the fake emperor.

What met him then were blades drawn in hatred, eyes filled with wrath and murder. He understood immediately that he would die here. But by fate, or perhaps by the end of the tyrant himself, the real emperor never woke. And the time he remained on the throne stretched longer.

At first, he sat only to die. Then came orders from his own mouth: «Hear this. The Imperial Knights will be dispatched to subdue the monsters at the border. Local lords are to assist in restoring order.» «These are harsh times. Adjust the tax code. Ban the nobles’ excessive levies.» «Execute them for dangerous thoughts? Or is it just that their ideas offend the nobles?»

He started to resist. To rule. To survive.

But the blood spilled by the tyrant had sunk too deep. The empire was rotten, roots, trunk, and leaves. He was not a great ruler. Not a sage. Not some emperor of legend. Just a fake emperor, clawing to stay alive.

Eventually, as if by fate, ruin came. His brief reign had been like pissing on frozen toes, a pointless warmth. And the nobles and people, bloated with anger, rose in revolt across the empire.

But the chaos didn’t stop there. When the empire collapsed, the nations long suppressed by its power formed an alliance and invaded. Then came the monsters, flooding across the continent. And behind them, demons.

Like a curtain falling at the end of a play, the world began to end. And the first offering to that apocalypse…

«So it’s over, then.»

The first sacrifice of the apocalypse… was him.

The real emperor had vanished. Now, neither decoy nor ruler, he alone remained.

Outside, screams and war cries filled the air. The scent of death hung thick. The great hall was bathed in blood-red twilight. Rebels charged in. Demons followed. And the fake emperor sat alone on the throne, waiting for the end.

«Will you not run?» came a voice.

He looked up.

«Ah… you’re here? Good timing. I was starting to feel a little lonely.»

The man who had arrived was the imperial archivist, a great mage, cloaked in mystery, rumored to have recorded the empire’s history since its founding.

The mage stood before him, silent for a moment, then spoke: «You couldn’t change your fate, after all.»

The emperor gave a bitter smile.

«No. I simply lived, swept along by the tyrant’s fate.»

«And how did it feel?» the mage asked. «Being the real one, even for a moment?»

«…Refreshing,» the emperor admitted. After a short pause, he added, «But… I regret never living as myself.»

The mage’s eyes softened. «And if you had? Do you think you could’ve changed this crumbling world’s fate?»

The emperor shook his head faintly. «I wouldn’t know. I never truly lived. I couldn’t even change my own fate.»

At that, the mage gave a small, amused smile. «Then why not try now?» he said. «Live.»

«Live what?» the emperor asked quietly.

«Your own life.»

«How?»

«Don’t change fate,» the mage said. «Devour it. That’s how you survive.»

«…Devour fate?»

«Yes.»

The mage turned slightly. His figure darkened against the setting sun. His eyes were blue, red, black and flared with power. Mystery.

The emperor could feel it. The Mystery was taking hold of him.

«Seize the emperor!» shouted voices from beyond the hall.

The doors burst open. Rebels stormed in. Too late.

Demons crashed through the stained glass, ripping through the invaders. None of them reached the throne.

The emperor watched it all as if through a wall of glass, a play he no longer belonged to. Only the glowing letters in front of him felt real.

He, who had lived a nameless life as a false emperor…

[You have inherited the Mystery: Fate Devourer]
[Traces left by the previous bearer consume you.]
[They choose the fate to be devoured in your place.]
[Devouring the greatest fate: A Fake Life. Fate is being rewritten.]
[A new fate is awakening.]

And he was cast back, to the youth of the true emperor.