The Emperor's Awakening
Lucian Drake was completely bewildered.
The first thing he noticed when he opened his eyes wasn't his own bedroom—but a majestic, gilded ceiling with murals depicting dragons and phoenixes in perpetual dance. Silken drapes rustled gently with a soft draft, and subtle wisps of sandalwood incense lingered in the air.
A shiver ran down his spine.
He sprang upright, realizing something was horribly wrong. The silk sheets beneath his hands were much too soft, and the bed he lay upon—a gigantic, gold-embossed King-size bed—was not his.
The memories came crashing down upon him like lightning.
He had somehow traveled into another realm. And not only that—he'd occupied the body of an emperor named Lucian Drake. Same age. Same face. Same name.
For a second, he was silent. Then he groaned.
"…You've got to be kidding me."
Sure, it sounded nice—becoming an emperor overnight. But this world was nothing like the peaceful one he came from. Here, nations rose and fell like waves in a storm. Martial artists walked the earth like demigods, their strength enough to crush armies, their tempers sharp as their blades.
This was a world of power—of Mana, steel, and blood.
There were dozens of nations, each craving territory and rule. Empires bashed each other continuously, and flags were raised and burned quicker than history could keep up with.
They claimed that in this world, the life expectancy of a dynasty was not over twenty years. Twenty years—and the crown would roll again.
And emperors?
They often didn't even live long enough to see their own statues carved.
Lucian exhaled shakily. "So, I'm sitting on a powder keg."
Indeed—he was now the newly enthroned ruler of a Minor Kingdom, one surrounded by wolves.
Outside his borders, powerful nations such as the Ironforge Kingdom coveted his territories with envy, poised for the moment of weakness to strike. Inside his walls, noble families gorged themselves on tithes, strangling the people while feigning allegiance.
The Imperial Court was a den of flattery and deceit. Ministers bowed low by day and hatched plots of treason in the candlelight at night. The martial world beyond was no different—bandits hewed mountains into their personal fiefdoms, their swords sipping freely from traveler and soldier alike.
And he, this "emperor," was the unfortunate figure caught in the middle.
Lucian's face grew darker. "This beginning is just too damn difficult."
The one thing that was holding the kingdom at bay from collapsing in one night was the residual power his so-called "late father" left behind. Without it, Lucian could well have already been contemplating running for his life.
He ran a hand over his black, shoulder-length locks. The slight image in the gilded bronze mirror reflected a young man with piercing purple eyes—equanimous on the outside, turbulent on the inside.
Then, there was a sound in his head—crisp, robotic, impossible.
Ding!
Well done, player. Your Empire Forging Map Game System is online now!
Lucian stiffened. "…Wait, what?"
In less than a moment of even registering the words, rivers of light flooded into his mind. Knowledge opened in his mind like an electronic scroll.
His bewilderment gave way to amazement-struck disbelief. "No way… this is the Empire Forging Map Game I played back when I was transmigrated!
He barely held back his joy. "And it came with me? Mutated, too? Ha! My golden finger has landed!"
On Earth, the Empire Forging Map Game was a rich simulation in which players built their empires through resource management, armies, and diplomacy. Every decision counted. Every action remade the world.
But now, something was different.
The system had extended itself into the real world. Everything—the management, the growth, the expansion—was actually happening.
And there was one horribly strong new feature: the more powerful the nation became, the more powerful he would become as well.
Lucian's heart began to beat faster. His thoughts were already racing ahead now, imagining possibilities.
Ding!
Player, your current role is Emperor of the Drake Kingdom. Do you want to bind to the current country, Drake Kingdom?
He didn't even blink. "Yes!"
Ding!
Binding successful. The player's strength will now follow the national power of the Drake Kingdom.
Reward: Origin Tier — Primal Level Mana!
A second later, a surge of force exploded inside him like a tempest released. His veins vibrated with power, his muscles braced, and his spirit spread outward as if the entire palace had shrunk around him.
He gasped as power ran through his body—wild, clean, living.
The air around him glimmered weakly, warped by unseen pressure.
Lucian tightened his fist, experiencing that miraculous strength at his beck and call. The weakling form of a helpless emperor was no more.
He could feel Mana flowing within his meridians like flowing light, shattering barriers he hadn't even been aware existed. All in one breath, he had breached the barrier separating the Mortal Tier from the Origin Tier—a world exclusively for actual cultivators.
The epiphany hit him like a lightning bolt.
He stood there for a moment, trembling—not from fear, but from exhilaration. Then, slowly, a grin spread across his lips.
"I'm… an Origin Tier master now," he whispered, voice low and thrilled. Then he laughed, head tilting back. "Hah! An emperor and an Origin cultivator—this world might finally have to take me seriously."
Thus, under the dim light of dawn filtering in through the silk drapes, the young emperor sat upon his Imperial bed, eyes burning with intent.
For the first time since waking in this world, Lucian Drake felt alive.