Lemon, the Great Sage King Equal to God 齊天大聖王, declared:
"In the beginning, I was born in chains beneath a sky of ash. The god of that world was called The Darkness — a tyrant who cloaked himself in eternity and demanded worship from the weak. But I am no worshipper. With a scream that split the heavens, I shattered his throne, broke his skull, and drank his power. I am the slayer of my own god, the heir to the world that birthed me, and from that inheritance I carved my path. One world was not enough. A throne of dust is still dust. So I seized another, and then another, until the number was beyond counting. I have established dominion over more than one thousand Cage Worlds — each a prison that I broke open, each now a jewel set within my body of fire. For know this: I do not merely rule them. I consume them. Their skies are my veins, their oceans my blood, their peoples my breath. Each throne I topple becomes a step beneath my feet, until the ladder of my conquests rises into infinity itself. I am Lemon, the Great Sage King Equal to God — the Yellow Emperor of a thousand worlds, and my empire is my flesh.
My generals, a thousand stars made warlike, march where I command. They bend suns into spears, moons into shields. The weak call me tyrant; the wise call me destiny. For what is freedom without power? What is life without a hand to shape it? The cages break only so that I may forge greater chains, chains that bind all into my design. I am not a god among gods — I am the god of Power itself. And yet… I do not sleep easily. Beyond the walls of my empire stirs the great silence, the Void. It is hunger without end, a maw that devours not only flesh and stone, but meaning itself. Even my laughter cannot drown its whisper. It waits, patient, as though mocking me, asking whether even I, the conqueror of a thousand worlds, am but a candle burning toward its end.
Lupus — the wolf-king, my rival — he too hears the Void. He too hunts across the cages. He dreams of thrones as I do, but his path is not mine. He would bind the cosmos in order; I would set it ablaze and wear its embers as a crown. Our rivalry is written into the marrow of creation: predator against predator, god against god. One day, his fangs will clash with my fist, and the worlds themselves shall tremble to see who remains standing.
Remember me well, for when the Void comes, when the last cage is broken and the final throne lies bare, it will not be the old gods who stand against it. It will be I — Lemon, the Great Sage King Equal to God, who murdered his creator, who devoured a thousand worlds, who rules from a body made of thrones. My dominion is eternal, my laughter is war, and my name is the answer to heaven itself."
Lore of the NUS:
The NUS was born from silence, from the ashes of a race that chose to erase itself rather than bow to chaos. Trillions gave up their bodies, their cities, their songs, until all that remained was a residue of memory and will. That residue did not die. It stirred, gathered, and reformed into something neither mortal nor divine. Thus began the NUS, not as a nation, not as a people, but as an idea—an empire with only one purpose: to seize the throne of God.
They carried no flag of kings or emperors, only the all-seeing Eye, a single gaze etched upon black banners. Wherever that Eye fluttered, entire worlds were compelled to kneel. The creed was simple and terrible: God is absent, so we shall become Him. From the first cell to the vastest fleet, every soldier, priest, and machine within their dominion beat to that rhythm. It was not faith, nor loyalty, but destiny, hammered into the very marrow of their existence.
Their hierarchy was a labyrinth. No one knew who truly commanded. The founder, David—said to be the reincarnation of the sacrificed race—vanished long ago, leaving behind only legends of his duel against a chaos god. In his absence, leaders arose and dissolved like waves, while faceless AIs whispered orders from unseen networks. Some spoke of "The Heads," enigmatic figures who directed entire galaxies from shadows. Yet none dared to ask if the NUS even needed leaders anymore. Its doctrine itself was alive, and that was enough to command obedience.
Their mastery lay in dissolving the wall between machine and magic. Spells were coded like programs; weapons hummed with chants that bent the spirit. A fleet of void-piercing dreadnoughts might deploy alongside sorcerers who cast glyphs into circuits, turning entire stars into engines. In laboratories built on the bones of forgotten gods, they fused soul and silicon until both screamed as one. To the NUS, science and sorcery were nothing more than twin syllables of the same cosmic language.
And their dominion stretched far. Across the multiverse, entire civilizations bore their brand. Galaxies became mere provinces, and within each, cities rose the size of nebulae. Some worlds surrendered willingly, seduced by the promise of immortality in the Eye's gaze. Others resisted, and their resistance was harvested—bodies stripped for fuel, memories distilled into data, spirits broken and coded into machines. From rebellion came only raw material for the NUS forge.
Among their people, culture was weaponized. Children learned to chant equations as prayers, taught that mathematics was the key to eternity. Rituals bled into bureaucracy: tax ledgers recited like hymns, battle reports written as scripture. There were no emperors to adore, no generals to worship—only the Eye. Every morning, billions of voices lifted in unison: "We are not servants of God. We are His replacement." Awe became law; loyalty became inevitability.
Still, questions haunted even their own ranks. Was God truly gone, or had He turned His face away? Was the Eye a promise, or a curse? To the zealots, the doubts did not matter. Suffering, entropy, and death were proof enough of divine failure. If the cosmos was broken, someone had to fix it. And if that someone was the NUS, then every atrocity, every conquered world, every scream ripped from the throats of the fallen was justified. Such was their philosophy: to mend creation, one must first own it.
But their enemies knew them as a blasphemy without parallel. Countless empires have risen and fallen, but none dared aim so high. The NUS does not wish to rule like kings. They do not wish to guide like gods. They wish to become the Absolute itself, to overwrite the script of reality with their own hand. This is why their fleets are feared, their laboratories despised, their banners cursed. Wherever the Eye gazes, even the bravest tremble, for they see in it not war, but the end of choice itself.
Whispers tell of resistance—of blades that can sever their metaphysical chains, of warriors who refuse to kneel even as their worlds crumble. But the NUS does not fear resistance. It thrives on it. To every rebellion, it replies: your death is not defeat, it is contribution. Every fallen soldier, every ruined city, every failed uprising is recycled into their machinery. The stronger the opposition, the greater the proof that their ascension is inevitable.
So the story of the NUS continues, a black tide rolling across multiverses. It is not a kingdom, but a hunger. Not a religion, but a destiny. And until the day it is broken, the Eye will not close. It will watch, it will consume, and it will demand the same terrible vow from all who behold it: abandon your God, for there is no God but the NUS. It should be noted that there are different theories surrounding the NUS and their origin point to the Nu race. The Nu race had created 200 worlds or in laymen's term Cosmos' or Universes but they did not seem to believe they were gods, or it seems the vast majority of them did not. It seems there were some tribes among them that believed they were the gods of the world they inhabited but the vast majority of tribes and individuals believed in various cults atheistic, agnostic, polytheistic, monotheistic, etc. but a minority believed they were the true gods and their desires were indeed holy. Scholarly your-world sidenote for the reader: this is similar to the Islamic Quran verse 25: 43: - "Have you seen the one who takes his own desire as his god? Would you then be a guardian over him?" - 25:43. Many of them however worshipped no god or gods or spirits or nature believing in cults of reason and agnosticism, examples of belief structures including such as: this thing happened therefore it is good and this thing happened and its bad,' as a simple example. These were described as the cults or religions of the apparent or the religions of the obvious or sometimes the cults of the apparent. Sometimes even as the nations of modality or the nations of causality.
There were others who believed in an eternal universe that was uncreated and Atheistic metaphysics. They believed in heaven and hell but there was no God or other deities, God did not exist and the universe was uncreated and eternal. These cults either believed in reincarnation and or heaven and hell or both however, assuming they existed independently and were uncreated like the universe or the world. Others believed in a world without a creator God but a pantheon of many gods who coexisted with the world and in many cases Saints among their race as well. All of these groups hated those who believed they were gods, meaning those creeds or groups. Another your-world example from the Old Testament from the Bible: Ezekiel 28:2: "Son of man, say to the prince of Tyre, Thus says the Lord GOD: Because your heart is proud, and you have said, 'I am a god, I sit in the seat of the gods, in the heart of the seas,' yet you are but a man, and no god, though you make your heart like the heart of a god." - 28:2.
There were polytheistic cults among the Nu race who worshipped idols and polytheistic Nu who worshipped no Idols some of whom believed Idols were sinful and blighted the image of the gods. Some were monotheistic believing in one god, some in two or three or four, etc. Some sacrificed to their gods or God, saying: "I sacrifice this Nu or this meal to the highest, or to the Lord of the Fallen, or to this or that, etc." I think that is sufficient to understand the diversity of said groups. There are many more and this will be described in detail throughout this saga through anecdotes and such. But what should be noted is that the Nu existed for at least several trillion years this is the general estimate and even more perplexing they seem to be credited with inventing or bringing forth into reality: the Imaginal Realm (the Dream World/s).
How this occurred is unknown if true, but there seems to be some evidence for such a claim which we will come back to later, God-willing. Many of them believed there ancestor was called King Nu. He was a great, mighty and god-like king, he stood over 15 feet tall. Real world description of the Yellow Emperor from Ancient Chinese mythology: "The Yellow Emperor, surnamed Ji, descendant of Shaodian, was called Xuanyuan. He bore the mandate at Youxiong and received the auspicious signs of the myriad states. He fought at Banquan, subdued the Flame Emperor, conquered Chiyou, united the tribes, and established his capital at Youxiong. He bestowed upon the people the arts of agriculture, instructed them in writing, developed medicine, instituted ritual and music, and thus transformed all within the Four Seas."
— Xuanyuan Huangdi Zhuan (The Legend of the Yellow Emperor) — a traditional compilation of Chinese legends and cultural memory. 好的,这里是刚才那段英文描述重新翻译回中文,保持文雅与古风:
"黄帝,姬姓,少典之后,号轩辕.受命于有熊,纳万邦之瑞.战于阪泉,克炎帝,胜蚩尤,合诸部族,建都于有熊.授民以稼穑,教之文字,兴行医药,制礼作乐,以化四海."
——"轩辕黄帝传"（民间传说典籍之汇编).
Similar to the Yellow Emperor in pre-modern China in your own world reader, the King Nu was a great mind he was the inventor of agriculture, religion, comparative religion, metaphysics, philosophy, civilization, literature, science, the arts, hermetics, alchemy, chemistry, industrial technology, quantum physics, etc. he was a fierce warrior against what he deemed organized religion. He destroyed idols and the worship of gods of all cults equally. He was described ironically as a Staunch Atheist and Champion of Reason. He gave birth to the first Nu Asexually spitting them out as eggs, he was neither a man or a woman in the sense the reader is aware. The Nu became heterosexual beings after he birthed them with only some being completely asexual though this was a minority this is why some other races descended from them are completely asexual and some are heterosexual though the Nu race existed long ago and chose to perish to create King David.
King Nu promoted State Atheism and he reigned by all accounts for 40,000 years, a long reign, he forged an empire and in that time religion and cults were heavily repressed in favor of state atheism the cults described above appeared openly after his mysterious disappearance. Ironically despite his Atheistic disposition he seemed like a god controlling the waves, the weather, the storms and the rain, he brought low demons who he described as aliens or extraterrestrials. There are many conflicting accounts of him but he seemed to adopt members of completely different aliens to be his vanguards. Some of them are rumored to continue to exist, 'meaning his Vanguard Children,' but this cannot be confirmed. However after 40,000 years Nu disappeared. Some believe he went into occultation. And the Nu broke up into many tribes. No one is sure where Nu went or where he came from. There are some sources that Nu traveled various worlds for tens of trillions or infinitums of years and he settled on that plain of existence for some unknown reason. Nu may have taken many forms or disguises in that time. What is clear is he is gone and no one knows where he is now. Until now, he appears in a dream where he meets the Prophet Hermes. At the same time the Holy Imam is speaking to who he believes to be God.
Meanwhile, in a dream…
The Holy Imam looked into the abyss and saw the face of God; it was an all encompassioning face, a face that was everywhere and nowhere. The Imam said to the abyss, "I know it's you. Though you are here and nowhere all at once." The Imam continued: "I know not what I must do anymore, with my allotted time, though I am your faithful servant." The voice from the abyss boomed. It spoke in mysterious angelic symbols: "Continue to do as I have told you my humble servant, and the light will prevail. This is a promise. And I will always keep my promises." The Imam began to cry, "I will obey you my Lord. I will proclaim the good and forbid the evil." After he said this a white light engulfed everything.
The following day about 2 months after everyone had returned from saving Talus our heroes we're sitting together in their own private cabin, the Imam had notified everyone that Nebula was sending some helpers to aid them on their quest, they were going to get a hold of the first artifact the missing piece of the Spirit Blade located within the Nus Empire. Talus was having fun reading the Horus Heresy book of Warhammer 40,000 he was on book iii. Ungar laughed, "You know how it ends." Talus got really frustrated and replied: "Don't be a freaking jerk, I want to see how it ends." Hermes cleared her throat, who's coming anyway." The Imam replied: "This war god name Krum, as well as the alternate-versions of Narcis and Talus, and a few others, Narcis himself is on the frontlines with the warriors of the Prophet on some world adjacent to Helios in holy war of course. Oh and some demon god warlord named Emperor Lemon will be joining our struggle." Ungar and Lupus shouted together: "DID YOU SAY EMPEROR LEMON??!!"
Meanwhile members of the Demon Clan Meet after a battle:
The green field was slick with blood, its tall grass flattened beneath the weight of corpses. The demons crouched low, tearing into the fallen with slavering jaws, their teeth grinding bone into dust. Crimson dripped from their mouths as they devoured the last breaths of their enemies, the wet sound of flesh being ripped apart mixing with their growls of satisfaction. Then one whispered the forbidden name—Talus. The Apostate of their own Clan, the one who had turned away from shadow and found rescue among the Federated Empire. A silence fell, broken only by the chewing of meat, and then the field erupted with a frenzy of laughter. Fangs gleamed red as the demons salivated, imagining the taste of his flesh above all others.
"Saved by mortals," one demon spat, licking the gore from his claws. "How sweet it will be to feed on his false salvation." They spoke between bites, tearing into still-warm bodies, the field itself becoming an altar of blood. Their eyes burned with excitement, pupils dilated like beasts at the scent of prey. The thought of Talus writhing in their grasp filled them with glee—they would not simply kill him, they would make his betrayal the greatest feast in their history. Around the field, the grass swayed under a breeze heavy with the stench of carrion, as the demons howled and licked their lips, their hunger now bound not to the nameless dead, but to the apostate who dared to defy their clan.
The field quieted for a moment as a small figure shuffled through the gore-stained grass. He was half the size of the others, hunched and wiry, with a jagged grin that stretched too wide across his face. Etched into his forehead burned a single scarlet kanji—魔 (Ma, demon). The others jeered at him often, but when he spoke, his words carried a venom that even the strongest demons leaned in to taste.
Barzakh (snickering, voice shrill but sharp): "No… no, you fools. Not Talus first. Kill his friends. Break their little band, and you'll break him. Shatter his light before you snuff him out."
The larger demons turned toward him, claws dripping, their ears twitching with curiosity. Barzakh's grin split wider, drool sliding down his chin as his eyes glowed feverishly.
Barzakh (whispering, almost reverent): "There's a rumor… one we all know but dare not speak. The flesh of the Prophet Hermes… it isn't like mortal flesh. They say if any of us devour her, we'll gain immortality—live forever—and perhaps even rise to rule the world itself."
A shudder ran through the horde. The bigger demons' eyes widened, their teeth clattering with hunger as saliva hit the grass like rain. One slammed his claw into the ground, snarling.
Demon Warlord (growling low): "Immortality… to eat the Prophet and become more than a demon…"
Barzakh (cackling, pointing a bloodied claw skyward): "Imagine it! Talus chained, forced to watch as his precious prophet is torn apart—and one of us ascends! No hope, no savior, no light left for him to cling to!"
The green field shook with their laughter, but it was Barzakh's shrill voice that lingered above the chorus—turning the bloodlust of the clan into something far darker: a hunt not for revenge, but for divinity itself.
The demons froze mid-argument, blood still dripping from their fangs, when a towering figure cut through their snarling laughter. His voice rumbled like thunder over the field:
Demon Warlord (growling): "No… not Talus first. We need to kill all of his friends before him. Break their bodies, tear their souls apart—and only then will the Apostate taste despair. They are on some mission of importance, yes, but when they fall, so will he."
A low murmur spread through the horde, claws tapping the ground, eyes widening with feverish hunger. Whispers grew into a chant as they spoke of the most dangerous rumor slithering through the Demon Clan's ranks—that the flesh of Hermes, the so-called Prophet of the Empire, was no ordinary meat.
Demon 2 (licking his lips, eyes gleaming): "They say her flesh is magic… if one of us devours her, we'll gain immortality itself."
Demon 3 (hissing, trembling in ecstasy): "Immortality… eternal rule! To feast on Hermes is to rise above demon and god alike! Her blood will burn with the power of worlds!"
The horde erupted into manic laughter, drool spilling from their mouths as they clawed at the corpses beneath them, tearing flesh not out of hunger, but out of anticipation. Already they could see it: Hermes writhing on the ground, Talus chained and forced to watch, his hope shattering as his so-called prophet was devoured before his eyes. To kill Hermes was more than vengeance. It was the key to forever—an endless reign carved from the flesh of the enemy.
The screen fades in on a messy bedroom. Empty ramen cups, soda cans, and game controllers litter the floor. Curtains are drawn, letting only a faint sliver of sunlight leak through.
Protagonist (narration, tired voice):
"My name doesn't matter. Nobody really calls me anyway. I'm twenty-three years old… white, American, unemployed. A NEET. A hikikomori, or at least as close as you can get in the suburbs of Ohio. I've been out of school for years, out of work even longer. My only real achievements? Beating Dark Souls seven times and memorizing the Japanese opening songs of shows no one in this town has ever heard of."
The camera pans across the room: an untouched stack of job applications, a dusty diploma on the wall, and a glowing computer monitor with anime wallpapers.
Narration:
"People tell you America's the land of opportunity. For me, it's the land of Walmart night shifts I never applied for, the land of loneliness where your only friends are avatars on Discord. I stay up until 5 a.m. watching streams from Japan, pretending I'm anywhere but here. Every day is the same. Eat, scroll, game, sleep. My parents gave up on me a long time ago. And honestly? I gave up on myself, too."
A muffled sound of laughter drifts from a neighbor's backyard barbecue outside his window. He pulls the curtain tighter, shutting it out.
Narration (voice breaking slightly):
"I keep waiting for something—anything—to change. But nothing ever does. I'm just stuck here, rotting away, a ghost in my own house. Sometimes I wonder… if I disappeared, would anyone even notice?"
The camera lingers on his reflection in the darkened computer screen: tired eyes, unshaven face, the faint outline of an anime poster taped behind him.
Suddenly, the monitor flickers. The hum of the computer deepens into a low, unnatural vibration.
Narration (confused, fearful):
"Wait… what's happening…?"
The screen explodes in a burst of light, swallowing the room whole.
Fade to white. Title card slams down with dramatic music.
The blinding light fades.
He blinks, and when his vision clears, the world around him is no longer his filthy room. Instead, he stands on cracked marble streets under a sky that looks like it's been stitched together—half shimmering auroras, half black void.
Narration (shaken, almost whispering):
"This… this isn't Ohio."
Towering spires, bent like broken teeth, rise out of the horizon. Half are radiant and crystalline, glowing with soft dreamlight; the others are twisted and dripping shadow, gnawed at by crawling figures. The ground beneath his sneakers pulses faintly, like it's alive, like it's breathing.
Above, massive rifts split the sky open. From them pour grotesque beings—jagged, formless things, all gnashing maws and clawed limbs. The "Nightmares." They swarm across the dreamscape, crashing into the luminous cities like locusts.
A voice, soft yet commanding, echoes through the streets:
"Welcome, Wanderer… to the Dream World. A world built from the desires of sleeping souls. But the Nightmares have come, feeding, conquering, devouring."
He spins around—there's no one there. Just fractured statues, faceless masks littering the ground, and streams of glowing dream-dust leaking like blood from their cracks.
Narration (frantic, panicked):
"Why me? I'm not a hero. I'm not even good at life. I'm just… a loser. Why would anyone bring me here?!"
The wind howls, carrying with it distorted whispers—half-laughter, half-screams—from the invading realm. From the corner of his eye, he sees it: a colossal shadow forming from the Nightmare breach, its shape half-human, half-beast, with eyes like moons dripping tar.
The boy drops to his knees.
Narration (trembling, almost crying):
"I wanted change… but not like this. Please… someone wake me up…"
And just as the monster raises a claw to crush him, a figure cloaked in shimmering dreamlight descends, striking the beast aside with a weapon that hums like a living flame. The figure turns—its face blurred, unreadable, but its voice calm, steady.
"If you can stand… then fight. The Dream needs even the weakest dreamers."
The NEET stares up, shaking, his hands still trembling as the ground quakes around him.