The boundless, milky-white void possessed neither top nor bottom, neither horizon nor points of reference.
There was no wind, smell, or sound within it - only a sterile, absolute nothingness in which a suspended consciousness drifted like an abandoned fragment of code.
Suddenly, a brief, cold tremor rippled through the void. Following this, the azure light of system notifications spilled across the dead space in front of this heightened consciousness.
[Transition Protocol Initialization completed successfully.]
[Participant successfully extracted from native dimension.]
[Your previous life has reached an irreversible end.]
[Welcome to the Dominion Trial.]
For a long moment, a deafening silence reigned in this space following the system announcements.
My life... has reached its end?
The suspended consciousness's memory of the old world was strangely faded, as if viewed through a thick pane of frosted glass.
He remembered a cramped room, perpetually drawn blinds, the bluish glow of a monitor illuminating a desk, and endless hours spent analyzing RPG spreadsheets, calculating optimal builds, and escaping reality.
He was a guy who had achieved literally nothing in real life. Worse still - and this burned in his memory as the most humiliating stigma - he had died a one-hundred-percent, unblemished virgin.
He had never held a woman's hand, never kissed anyone, and his entire knowledge of intimacy stemmed from the most degenerate, forbidden corners of the internet, visual novels, and femdom manga.
For years, in the privacy of his own four walls, he had nurtured a secret he wouldn't confess to a single living soul: he didn't want to be a conqueror, he didn't even want to be an alpha male.
Deep down, he was consumed by a sick, shameless fascination with the idea of being on the other side - he dreamed of becoming a dazzling, defenseless, completely submissive woman, looked down upon with ruthless domination by someone powerful.
And now, this cold system voice was announcing that that world simply ceased to exist.
[Every participant is granted the opportunity to shape their own destiny by selecting an Initial Path.]
[Available Default Paths:]
[Hero] - The Path of Justice and Redemption. The participant receives the support of local forces of order, a starting blessing, and the quest to eliminate the threat posed by the Demon Kings.
[Demon King] - The Path of Sovereignty and Conquest. The participant receives their own starting territory, a Sovereign Nexus, access to a Demon King Lineage, and the ability to summon units and build an army.
Two gigantic banners materialized before the suspended consciousness.
As an avid gamer and a ruthless systems analyst, he instantly began breaking both options down to their core components.
A Hero? Bullshit, he thought with cold contempt.
Cannon fodder. "Support of local forces" in gamer terms simply meant being kept on a leash by some holy kingdoms, a mountain of moral restrictions, and hunting monsters with a knife to your throat...
Zero true freedom, zero profound control over progression.
The second option - Demon King - appeared infinitely more powerful. The mechanics were pulled straight out of the best 4X strategy games and system novels: developing a Sovereign Nexus, recruiting units, a bloodline, territorial evolution. It was pure, unadulterated power.
And yet... something twisted in his virtual stomach.
A Demon King had to manage.
He also had to command, to be a hard, ruthless leader standing at the pinnacle of a tower, planning wars and taking all the responsibility onto his own shoulders.
The vision of being a solitary warlord simply repulsed him. It was too exhausting, too stressful, and - above all - completely contrary to his most shameful, perverse desires.
Ultimately, he didn't want to rule. He wanted someone to rule him.
As he delayed his decision, a quiet, metallic pulse echoed through the white space. Golden runes swirled around his point of consciousness, forming a tight, drilling ring.
[Atypical psychological profile and extreme dissonant compatibility with leadership roles detected.]
[Willpower Parameter Analysis: Domination Index: 0.2% | Submission Index: 99.8%.]
[Deeply rooted preferences for assistance, subordination, and specialized resource manipulation noted.]
[Qualification for standard roles suspended.]
[Hidden special path unlocked: SUPPORT.]
A crimson-purple interface window exploded before his eyes, dripping with an entirely different aesthetic than the harsh, militaristic panels of the Hero and Demon King.
[Path: Support (Unique Class)]
Support is a rare anomalous path, available to less than 0.001% of Dominion Trial participants.
- A Support DOES NOT possess their own territory.
- A Support DOES NOT possess a Sovereign Nexus or the ability to directly amass an army.
- The role of a Support consists of permanently binding their fate to a Demon King who possesses a unique Retainer Privilege.
- In exchange for forfeiting political independence, the Support is granted access to the advanced creation module [Vessel Forge], allowing for unlimited racial, biological, and structural modifications.
The moment he read these system notifications and the words formed a cohesive whole in his mind, his very soul trembled with wild, unbridled ecstasy.
No territory?
No need to put up with managing an army?
Binding himself to a powerful Demon King as their personal property... and a full, advanced character creator?!
To him, this wasn't a punishment from the System.
It was the most magnificent, depraved reward he could have ever fantasized about in his wettest dreams.
To be a protected, defenseless mascot at the side of a ruthless monarch, while simultaneously acting as the éminence grise whose magic turns their master into an invincible god of war?
He didn't hesitate for a fraction of a second.
I choose Support! he shouted in his mind, without a shadow of a doubt.
[Path confirmed: SUPPORT.]
[Module initialization: Vessel Forge...]
[Starting resource pool allocated: 100 Creation Points (CP).]
The milky whiteness around him shattered, giving way to an endless, ebony hall with a floor of dark, mirror-polished obsidian.
In the center of the hall floated a gigantic, crystalline mannequin made of pure, pulsating light, and dozens of translucent, golden panels unfurled before it.
The character creator was incredibly, overwhelmingly detailed.
The tabs were divided into: Race, Bloodline, Body, Traits, Talents, Skills, Blessings, Curses, and Equipment.
As a longtime min-maxer, he instantly threw himself into analyzing the racial mathematics.
A standard human cost 0 CP, but provided laughably low mana multipliers and very narrow, boring sliders in the appearance creator.
"Since I have the chance to start over... over my dead body am I staying a man," he muttered, scrolling through the list of higher races.
He quickly spotted two entries that made his heart beat faster:
[Elf] - Cost: 30 CP Provides: An exceptionally deep mana pool, outstanding control over energy flow, inhuman sensory acuity, and a baseline bonus to natural attractiveness.
[Succubus] - Cost: 40 CP Provides: Proficiency in mental magic, the ability to apply powerful buffs and debuffs, desire manipulation, passive pheromone production, and a drastic expansion of the female anatomy sliders in the Vessel Forge.
You could say these were the two pillars of the perfect, perverted entity.
On one hand, aristocratic, pure elegance and divine magical potential; on the other - the sinful, sensuality-dripping nature of a demoness of lust.
Gleaming right beneath them was a special function:
[Racial Hybridization - Cost: 30 CP]
Allows the merging of two distinct bloodlines into a unique, stable hybrid, inheriting the advantages of both races and unlocking unique anatomical modifiers.
"Buy. Everything," came the immediate command, recognizing a screaming bargain.
[Deducted: 100 CP. Current balance: 0 CP.]
[Unique racial matrix created: Elf-Succubus Hybrid.]
[Full spectrum of body modifications unlocked.]
[Enter name of new identity:]
A name…
My old, hard, masculine name must disappear forever.
For a moment, the consciousness rolled various combinations of syllables around in its mind, searching for something that sounded aristocratic, delicate, yet dripped with a sensual, courtly sweetness.
"Liselotte," he whispered, and the word tasted like the sweetest nectar on his tongue. "I will be Liselotte."
[Name registered: Liselotte.]
[Initiating Vessel Customization - Mode: Female.]
At that moment, the crystalline figure before her began to fill with living, pulsating flesh, and Liselotte's consciousness was sucked into a vortex of absolute, unrestrained creation. All of her previous fantasies, hidden away for years, about being an ultra-sexy bombshell erupted with the force of a volcano.
She dragged the sliders with a predatory, downright feverish gleam in her eye as Liselotte pushed the succubus modifiers to their absolute limits.
She set her height at around 172 centimeters - perfect to look statuesque, but still requiring her to tilt her head up when facing a taller mistress.
Her waist was cinched to impossibly narrow, staggering proportions, creating a violent, aggressive contrast with her hips.
She widened her hips generously, giving them a full, deep, sinful curve that transitioned into a pair of incredibly thick, firm, and soft thighs, practically engineered for wearing silk stockings.
She molded her buttocks into two perfectly round, heavy hemispheres that would inevitably sway in a mesmerizing rhythm with every single step.
And then came the time for her chest.
Here, Liselotte completely abandoned any shred of moderation, dragging the bust slider far beyond the boundaries of decency.
Two massive, unearthly abundant, soft orbs blossomed on her chest, tipped with pert pink nipples. Thanks to her elven and succubus nature, they maintained perfect firmness and elasticity, utterly defying gravity.
They looked so heavy and luscious that they practically begged to be squeezed into a tight satin corset, spilling over the neckline at the slightest bend.
Next, the girl attended to her racial details.
Her skin took on an immaculately pale, slightly flushed hue - inhumanly smooth, silky to the touch, and entirely devoid of the slightest blemish or stray hair.
Long, slender, incredibly elegant elven ears swept back from the sides of her head.
A cascade of thick, lustrous hair the color of pure, liquid silver with a pearlescent sheen spilled from her head, falling in soft waves all the way down to the cleft of her buttocks.
Her facial features were aristocratic, inhumanly beautiful, and innocent, featuring a small, turned-up nose and full, moist, naturally cherry-red lips.
Finally, instead of ordinary eyes, Liselotte selected deep, ruby irises with predatory, vertical slits that glowed in the dark with a faint, mesmerizing luminescence. She didn't want horns or the massive, leathery wings of a succubus, which would only get in the way of wearing clothes or lying on her back.
Instead, she sprouted a long, thin, velvety-smooth black demonic tail from her tailbone, ending in a small, perfectly formed spade in the shape of a heart.
She configured it to be fully sensitive to the touch, including an option to retract it entirely beneath her skin should the need arise.
When the mannequin finally merged with her consciousness, Liselotte felt her new body for the very first time.
"Haaah..." an unconscious, trembling moan of pure pleasure tore from her full lips.
Her voice was intoxicating - velvety, sensual, dripping with an innate, purring sweetness.
She raised her slender hands with their manicured, delicate nails and touched her own breasts.
The sensation was simply overwhelming for a virgin like her.
The unbelievable weight of her bust, the warmth of her smooth skin, the gentle chill of the air against her exposed nipples, and the constant, pulsating tingle deep in her lower belly, triggered by the succubus blood now coursing through her veins.
Between her wide thighs lay a slick, burning emptiness that practically screamed to be filled.
She was the walking embodiment of sin. A genuine, one-hundred-percent sex bomb, engineered expressly to drive anyone who looked at her to the brink of absolute madness.
"I am... simply perfect," she giggled, swaying her hips and watching in the mirrored floor as her ruby eyes gleamed with lecherous pride.
Filled with triumph and mounting arousal, she waved her hand to proceed to the next, critical stage:
"Alright, dream body is done. Time to pick out the most broken set of support spells, some barriers, healing, and optimize these stats!"
She tapped the tab: [Talents & Skills].
The screen flickered, and the ability list unfurled before her eyes in all its glory, tempting her with unbelievable effects.
Liselotte dragged her gaze to the top right corner of the panel, where the resource counter was located.
And in that exact fraction of a second, all the blood drained from her face.
Her long elven ears drooped limply as her jaw dropped in paralyzing, absolute stupefaction.
On the screen, painted in massive, indifferent, bright red digits, glaringly stood a single, merciless value:
Creation Points: 0 / 100
Insufficient funds to purchase any Talents, Skills, or Traits.
A dead, ghostly silence fell over the endless hall.
Liselotte stood entirely naked in the middle of the obsidian floor, staring at that one cursed zero with a dull, vacant expression on her face.
I spent... everything.
An even hundred points... On my race, legs, ass, and tits.
You could easily say she had crafted the absolute most beautiful, flawless, sex-dripping body in the entire Dominion Trial... but from the perspective of a survival world, she was currently a completely useless, empty doll who couldn't cast even the most basic healing spell.