The Last Human by anonymous
>Anthro barbarians overwhelm and sack the capital of the human empire, long weakened by fragmentation and in-fighting, deposing their imperial family and leading to a century of bloody fragmentation
>Petty king after petty king fight each other over the remains of the once great nation, and the formerly prosperous humans suffer the brunt of it
>However for all their pride and sneering towards their now laid low foes, the only thing that the warring anthro tribes can agree on is that, at their prime, the humans were unstoppable, and a subconscious feeling of awe and respect remains, however buried
>As a result, a favored tactic to consolidate strength becomes to force the old imperial family at sword point to provide a coronation to whatever warlord has the most power in that particular year, to give a veneer of old human legitimacy and prestige to an otherwise rapacious regime
>A century of this practice has led to the imperial family dying out after zero-sum tactics and "if I can't have them, nobody can" mentality slaughters the lot of them
>Except for one
>(You)
>And after years of living in peaceful obscurity, the word has gotten out, and now a multitude of warriors, would-be-kings, raiders and criminals are after you
>Not for your head, but rather so that you can put a crown on their head
>And for some of them, also a ring on their finger
>a multitude of warriors, would-be-kings, raiders and criminals are after you
I don't care that the threadly thing to do is pick one to protect me against the others.
What I want to do is construct a fortress of doom full of booby traps and evil minions, and watch through my crystal ball as these wannabe protagonists fail and die in their selfish mission.
>you learn sorcery and ses up a deadly dungeon to keep away your anthro suitors, like you're playing a tower defense game
>at first you have great fun watching the initial rush of greedy idiots fall to your clever defenses
>but before long, the raiders, bandits, pretenders, and other ne'er-do-wells give up and go looking for easier marks
>all that's left are callow youths
>novice adventurers who don't know any better
>naive fools, one and all
>but good-hearted and honest
>himbos, basically
>most have tragic backstories, and are just trying to make a name for themselves
>as you watch them struggle through your traps and minions, you find yourself getting invested in their progress
>maybe even rooting for them, when they overcome impossible odds
>you find yourself getting invested in their stories, their friendships and rivalries with each other
>many of them even believe that you're a prisoner of the dungeon, and see themselves as would-be saviors, here to rescue you!
>utterly naive fools
>but... surely it wouldn't hurt to... give them a sporting chance, would it?
>after all, the lower floors of your dungeon hardly ever get to see use
>you make things a bit less lethal
>let them retreat when they're at their limit and come back stronger on the next attempt
>so what if you put your finger on the scale and go a bit easy on your favorites?
>it's YOUR dungeon isn't it? this is all for your entertainment!
>after years of this, your favorites, once rivals to each other, have forged reluctant bonds of friendship
>they speak of "sharing" you once they "rescue" you from the dungeon, the cocky idiots
>still, they aren't as foolish as they used to be... they've all matured and grown strong from challenging your dungeon
>and once they finally unite into a party, they make incredible progress
>you're so invested in their fight with the final guardian that you cheer when it falls
>and then you realize they're all approaching your chambers, just minutes from meeting you
>realize my inner sanctum is a fucking mess
>run around in a blind panic trying to tidy up
>hurriedly stuff all my empty energy drinks -- I mean potion bottles -- into a bag of holding
>shit, where are my mystic robes, this is my bathrobe!
>fuck, here they are, but they have cum strains on them, fuck fuck
>start pulling on some simple casual wear instead
>the door to my room opens
>the anthro adventurers all freeze as they behold me standing there
>wearing nothing but a short white tunic and looking very vulnerable and panicked
>all of them look smitten
>put my hands on my hips and try to assert authority with a villain monologue
>my voice comes out in an awkward, timid squeak
>whoops, I've been living a hikikomori NEET lifestyle and haven't spoken in years
>the adventurers start fawning all over me
>joyfully assuring me they're here to rescue me and take me away from the evil dungeon
>I try to protest
>insist I'm the dungeon master
>but they just convince themselves I've just been driven loopy by my long "imprisonment"
>and have stockholm syndrome or something
>they take turns princess-carrying me out over my tsundere complaining
>can't really do anything to resist
>I specced all my magic into architectural enchantments, scrying spells, and lengthy summoning rituals
>I guess being carried is kinda nice, tho...
>and now that I think about it, it might be fun to establish a kingdom on the surface?
>using these beefcake anthros as my new chief minions, of course
>a-after the joint wedding they keep babbling about, I guess...
>end up establishing a pretty sizeable kingdom
>despite this it feels like you don't have any real say in the rulings
>most of the decisions are made by your husbands
>try a bunch of methods to gain traction but none of them seem to work
>you try adorning yourself with flamboyant clothing and exercise to seem more prestigious but everyone just talks about how cute you look in your outfits
>Using some of your alchemy knowledge you try your hand at cooking to appease their appetites
>Turns out you're pretty talented at it, they keep asking you to make more of their favorites
>End up spending so much time in the kitchen you can't keep up with all of the politics occurring in your ever-growing nation
>Try to attend the meetings but you're so worn out from cooking that you end up passing out during them
>It's a dice roll as to whose bed you end up in when you wake up
>The one constant is that the owner of it has there arms wrapped around you deep in slumber
>And good luck trying to wriggle out from someone double your height and weight