Incest Pendragon

Twenty years have passed, and you've already achieved everything. Power, women, and an empire to rule.

You've climbed to the peak of the world, with nothing left to conquer.

So, what do you do now?

Nothing…

All that remains is the waiting—waiting for something, anything, to change.

Waiting for the world to break, for fate to twist, for the cycle to shatter. Waiting for the chance to fix what was broken, to undo what was done, to make things right again

The world may kneel before you.

Cities whisper your name with both reverence and terror.

Statues carved from conquered stone stand in your likeness, towering over streets soaked with the blood of the past.

But empires are fragile things.

Not because of enemies outside—but because of the rot within.

And you… are starting to hear the whispers.

There is a crack in your crown, a fracture in the illusion of your absolute control. Your enemies are many, lurking in the shadows, plotting your downfall with bated breath.

Yet, of all the forces that seek your ruin, none are more insidious, more relentless, more inevitable than her.

Alaya.

She has always been waiting. Watching. Biding her time, weaving her web, sinking her hooks into the very foundation of your empire.

She does not need armies to bring you to your knees—her weapon is patience, her battlefield the minds and souls of men.

And when you are not looking, when you allow even a moment of distraction, that is when she strikes.

Twenty years have passed since you claimed the title of God Emperor.

Your face is etched on every coin. Your decrees are law.

But beneath the illusion of control, something stirs.

Rebellions spark in distant provinces—small, insignificant on the surface, but persistent.

Artoria has grown distant. Her loyalty never faltered… until now. She commands armies far from your sight, and power in the hands of powerful is always a dangerous thing.

A cult has emerged in the shadows, worshiping you not as a ruler but as a god— twisting your image into something grotesque, something beyond even your own design.

And perhaps the darkest whisper of all:

"The God's judgment has come."

But whose God? No one knows for sure. But you know exactly who they mean.

Alaya.

She's coming for you. Her schemes, her influence, and the power she holds are tearing your empire apart from the inside.

Just like she did with Camelot. Just like she did with Artoria.

And you know exactly what's coming your way.

...

You stand in the Imperial Palace, its marble walls cold and unyielding.

A messenger kneels before you, his body trembling.

"My Emperor," he stammers, "there's… been an incident."

First—The Queen of Connacht has openly declared independence, severing the chains of submission that once bound her to you. She no longer bows, no longer kneels, no longer feigns loyalty. The woman who once accepted your rule is gone, and in her place stands someone reborn—someone burning with the fire of purpose, with the unwavering light in her eyes that she had long lost. She claims to be the one and only true queen of the island, and she no longer acknowledges your reign as legitimate.

Second—Artoria's army, once your disciplined and reliable force, has fallen eerily silent. No reports, no messengers, not even a whisper carried by the wind. Weeks have passed, and yet, not a single word has reached your ears. The absence of news is a void, and in your experience, silence like this is never a sign of peace. It's a prelude to something far worse.

And third—Someone, or something, has desecrated the sacred walls of your palace. A symbol has been carved deep into the stone, the mark of an empty crown, its edges dripping with crimson, as if the walls themselves are bleeding. A warning. A challenge. A mockery of your rule, left in plain sight for you to see.

You stare out across your empire from the towering balcony.

The empire you carved from blood and bone stands trembling beneath the weight of its own shadow.

Your shadow.

But you no longer feel its pull.

Because gods do not kneel to what they've created.

They abandon it.

And watch it rot.

...

One evening, as the crimson sun bleeds across the horizon, you stand alone atop the highest tower of your palace, its stones stained with the whispers of the dead.

Below, the city teems with life, fear, and the false illusion of order.

But none of it matters.

You turn away.

No final decree.

No farewell to anyone.

No armies marching behind you.

Just silence.

Because gods don't explain. They simply leave.

You walk out of the empire's heart, unescorted, unnoticed, unchallenged.

No one dares stop you.

No one can.

Because what could they do to stop a god?

...

In the years that follow, your empire collapses—not with the explosion of rebellion or the fury of war, but with the slow, agonizing decay of something that no longer knows why it exists.

Provinces fracture, warlords rise, and the cults once devoted to your worship turn on each other, their prayers becoming curses.

And in the shadows of crumbling cities, people tell stories:

"He was more than a man."

"He was a god."

"He left because we were unworthy."

They don't know the truth.

The truth is… you simply grew bored.

...

You wander lands far from the empire's reach—unchained, untouched, eternal.

No crown.

No army.

Just the weight of your own existence.

In distant cities, you're a myth.

In ancient temples, you're a blasphemy.

In dark alleys, you're just a man with sharp eyes and a darker past.

But you feel something strange…

Not regret.

Not guilt.

Emptiness.

Because even gods need purpose.

And you left yours behind.

...

Years—or centuries—pass. Time means nothing to you.

But one night, under a blood-red moon, you stand at the edge of the world, staring into an abyss deeper than anything you've ever conquered.

And you realize:

Even gods can die.

Not by blade.

Not by betrayal.

But by forgetting who they were.

"Then let me remind you of who you are, God Emperor."

The voice was both familiar and distant, as if it had echoed through the corridors of your mind before yet remained just out of reach.

You didn't know where or when you had heard it before, but the moment your gaze settled on the source, the answer was already there, waiting in the depths of your consciousness.

"Eclipse Princess." You addressed her with a deep, rumbling voice, your tone carrying the weight of acknowledgment.

And now, you understood. You understood why you stood beneath the blood-red moon, why its ominous glow painted the world in hues of crimson.

It was because of her.

She had turned it.

"It has been a very, very long time since someone dared to peer into the depths of my mind, my psyche, and my heart. And do you know what became of them? They're all dead, Eclipse Princess." Your words were delivered as an irrefutable fact, not as a threat, but a simple, unchangeable truth.

"Not entirely dead," Altrouge Brunestud countered with a chuckle, her crimson eyes gleaming with intrigue. "You didn't fully destroy Alaya. You left your empire to rot. Well... not completely. Someone took your throne. Someone from your own side."

Her smirk was taunting, her amusement evident, but it barely registered in your mind.

You had long since stopped caring about the trivialities of power.

"Why did you leave, Uther Pendragon?"

You exhaled, a weary sigh escaping your lips as you turned your gaze upward, staring at the blood-red moon that loomed over the desolate world.

"When there is nothing left to conquer… what is there to seek?" you murmured, your voice laced with the exhaustion of a man who had seen too much.

"Nothing…"

A bitter chuckle rumbled from your chest, devoid of any real amusement. "Even your father didn't have the answer. She died before she could conquer anything."

"Emptiness… so you feel it too, huh?" Altrouge's gaze deepened, as if peering past flesh and bone, into the hollow abyss inside you.

"The same as you, Uther Pendragon," she continued, her voice carrying an understanding that was almost unnerving. "I feel empty. Nothing satisfies me anymore. Nothing ever will. I built what my father never could. I forged an empire for her, here, in this frozen wasteland. And guess what?"

She let out a small, mirthless laugh. "It wasn't as interesting as I thought it would be. Maybe we're no different after all. Just two lost souls with no purpose, no direction, nothing except the void eating away at us."

Then, she took a step closer, her smirk returning, seductive yet laced with something far more dangerous.

"How about you come with me, God Emperor?" she proposed.

You snorted, the disdain in your reaction unmistakable.

"I left my empire in a heartbeat, Eclipse Princess. The adoration of men, their empty praises, their worthless loyalty—it stopped meaning anything to me a long time ago. Their worship was fleeting, their devotion conditional. What makes you think I'd follow you?"

Altrouge smirked, unfazed by your rejection. If anything, she seemed even more intrigued.

"You can have me," she said, her words slow, deliberate. "You will rule different empires, with different people, different perspectives. Here, you will be beyond Alaya's reach. You will be immune to its influence, free from the betrayals of your own people. I know you're not bored simply for the sake of boredom. You're bored because of how easily people turn against you. How they ignore everything you've done for them."

"You grew tired of their weakness, their ingratitude. So, you abandoned them—not because you had no other choice, but out of sheer spite. They never truly mattered to you, did they? You never begged. You never tried to fix anything. You simply left—left them to their own damnation."

She leaned in ever so slightly, her eyes gleaming with a knowing, seductive confidence.

"But here… here, you will find your purpose."

Altrouge's voice was as sweet as poison, dripping with something dangerous and irresistible.

"I will rule on my own terms, Eclipse Princess. Prove your loyalty, your worth, and your devotion, and I will consider your offer." Your voice was deep, commanding, resonating with an authority that left no room for defiance.

Altrouge smirked, her crimson eyes gleaming with something between amusement and lust. "Of course, my emperor. Your will is my command."

Without hesitation, she shed every last piece of fabric that covered her flawless pale skin, standing bare before you in the freezing wasteland.

The icy wind bit at her flesh, yet she showed no sign of discomfort—only the burning need to offer herself completely to you.

Her slender, perfectly shaped body was on full display, her curves accentuated by the blood-red moon hanging ominously in the sky.

You wasted no time. With a single, forceful motion, you seized her, pushing her down onto the frozen ground beneath you.

The contrast of the bitter cold against her heated skin only made her shudder in delight.

Her legs spread willingly, inviting you in, and you answered her silent plea without restraint.

Your cock plunged into her tight, wet pussy in one deep thrust, forcing a sharp cry of pleasure from her lips.

Her moans echoed through the desolate landscape, becoming the symphony of your union beneath the crimson moonlight.

Each powerful thrust drove her deeper into ecstasy, her body trembling as she clung to you, completely at your mercy.

Her pussy clenched greedily around your cock, desperate to milk every last drop of your seed. And you had no intention of holding back.

You fucked her relentlessly, claiming her, branding her as yours with every thrust.

The raw pleasure built up to an earth-shattering climax as you buried yourself to the hilt, spilling your hot seed deep inside her.

You were determined to breed her, to mark her completely, ensuring she would never belong to anyone but you.

When it was over, you stood tall in the frozen empire, Altrouge at your side, her body still trembling from the aftermath of your ruthless passion.

She belonged to you now—not just as your consort, but as your devoted queen.

This was not the world you once knew. This was a different empire, a different land, ruled by a different law—your law. And those who dared to oppose you?

They were obliterated without mercy.

Altrouge ensured that no one spoke ill of you, silencing dissent before it even had a chance to spread.

Those who stood before your glacier throne learned the weight of your divine will.

They did not just bow—they submitted, mind, body, and soul.

Your Conqueror's Haki had evolved beyond anything the world had ever seen.

No longer was it just a force of intimidation—it had become something greater, something absolute. It rewrote the very minds of those who dared to defy you, reshaping their thoughts, their allegiances, their entire existence.

Even the system that once governed you was no longer beyond your control.

With sheer will, you bent it to your command, reshaping it into a sentient artificial intelligence.

No longer just a formless entity within your mind, the system now took the form of a white-haired loli with piercing red eyes—an embodiment of absolute obedience to you.

And so, once again, you stood unchallenged, unrivaled, the undisputed ruler of all.

But how long would this boredom last?

You did not know.

For now, at least, you had a beautiful vampire queen to spoil, to indulge, and to enjoy.

...

Yes, the story may have ended, but I continued it at some point to write an epilogue, making the ending more complete and providing more details in the conclusion.