Rain just hammered down, drowning the city in flickering neon and shadows. Tokyo looked like someone smudged all the colors with a wet brush—seriously, you ever seen so much water that the light itself feels like it's melting? Yeah, that.
Up on a rooftop—way above the mess and the ramen stalls and the late-night taxi horns—a guy stood alone, silhouette cut sharp against the chaos. His coat whipped around, soaked, sticking to him like it was trying to drag him over the edge. Did he care? Not even a twitch. He just kept staring down at the city, eyes locked on the swirling insanity below, like he saw something nobody else could.
That was Kaito Ren. You've heard the name—unless you've been living under a rock or, I dunno, one of those hermit monks with no WiFi. The guy who basically broke reality for fun. Built MythOS: Descent, the game people either worshipped or wanted to ban. He let people become gods, monsters, tyrants—whatever flavor of chaos floated their boat. And yeah, he caught a lot of heat for it. But now? None of that mattered.
Because tonight, someone decided he'd played god long enough.
No drama, no slow-motion villain speech. Just a shove—hard and fast. One second he's there, next second, gravity's got him. And as he falls, the last thing he sees—like, burned into his brain—is this flash of red eyes in the dark. Familiar. Too familiar. The sort of eyes that haunt you even when you're awake.
"You really thought you could outcode the gods? That's rich."
And then, everything cut to black.
---
He wakes up. Or, well, something like that. No sky, no ground, no arms, no legs—just drifting in the kind of darkness that makes you question if you ever really existed. The silence? Feels alive. Like it's waiting to see what he'll do.
Then there's a voice. Not human. Cold, bored, maybe a little amused. If a computer ever decided to sound smug, it might sound like this.
> [Underworld System Syncing…]
Welcome, Hades. Last of your kind, huh?
Objective: Rule or get eaten alive.
Suddenly, the void rips apart. It's not gentle about it. He's yanked into a body that feels... alien. Younger, built like some anime protagonist, every muscle and scar in the right place. He glances down—there's a river of black ichor, not exactly Olympic swimming material, and his reflection stares back. White hair, charcoal eyes burning like a dying star, gold scars pulsing with something ancient. Honestly, it's a look—might even start a fashion trend if he survives.
Bare feet slap against stone. He's shirtless, draped in a cloak that eats the light, stitched together from nightmares. The cavern he's in? Massive. It stretches on and on, jagged walls that almost seem to move if you look away, pillars of obsidian jutting up like rotten teeth. The air reeks—sulfur, old blood, something older and meaner than death.
At the center: a throne. Built from bones and iron, broken but defiant. It's not just a seat—it's a challenge, a dare, a promise.
> [System Notice: Dungeon Core Detected.]
Activate and Bind?
Y/N
Hades—yeah, he's Hades now, let's not kid ourselves—walks up, steady as you like. Touches the throne. And holy hell, the place responds. Chains explode from the shadows, wrap around him, crush and pierce and burn. They carve sigils into his soul—old, angry magic, the kind that doesn't ask permission. He screams, but it's not pain you hear—it's fury. He's been yanked around enough.
He's done playing.
> [Underworld Dungeon Core Bound.]
You have become a Dungeon Lord. Rank: Cursed God.
First Trial Incoming: Invaders Detected. Prepare for Blood.
No time to breathe. The dungeon's gate cracks open with a roar that shakes the ground. Five adventurers pile in—brand-new gear, cocky grins, the swagger of people who've never lost at anything important. They're loud, they're laughing, they have no clue what they've walked into.
Their leader? A priest, golden staff, sneer that could curdle milk. Guy looks at Hades like he's some dorky cosplayer who wandered in from a convention across the street.
"This is the boss?" the priest scoffs. "What, did they run out of real monsters?"
Hades, well, he grins. Not a nice grin. The kind that says, "You're about to learn something you really wish you didn't."
"I'm not the boss of this level," he says, voice cold and sharp. "I'm the god you idiots forgot to fear."
And the shadows behind him? They twist, hungry, almost gleeful.
Death leans in, ready for the show. Because in this place, the only rule is power. And Hades? He's just getting started.
Honestly, if the gods wanted him gone, they should've finished the job. Now, he's got a throne, a dungeon packed with nightmares, and a grudge that could outlast eternity. Good luck, heroes. You're gonna need it.