"Argh… Ah… Ugh…"
Pain.
That was the first thing he felt as consciousness clawed its way back. Agonizing, searing pain that clung to every nerve.
He couldn't move.
Could barely breathe.
"…Nice," he gasped, then let out a shaky, bitter laugh.
What else was there left to do?
Cry?
He'd done that already—so much, so often—it had lost meaning.
Crying at fate.
What a joke.
"Argh…" he groaned, blinking against the blur of pain. "They really did a number on me."
A weak, fake smile crawled across his face.
Then came the sobs.
No matter how hard he tried to hold them in, they came.
He was still that same stupid, soft-hearted fool.
He cried.
God, how he cried.
The pain wasn't just physical.
It was deeper, like a jagged knife twisted into his soul.
He wanted to vanish. Not just from the pain—but from existence itself.
Damn it.
Damn it all.
How had it come to this?
No one had listened.
Would anyone even believe him if they had?
He didn't even fully understand it himself.
One moment, everything was normal.
Then—
A sword in his hand.
A sword he didn't recognize.
And Auston… falling to his knees, blood pouring from his gut.
He'd been horrified.
He had staggered back from the scene, trembling.
It wasn't him.
It couldn't have been him.
He'd begged the System.
Begged the Goddess.
Begged for the promise to be fulfilled.
He had always known this was his canon event.
His predetermined fall.
His death.
But—
Silence.
Only silence.
"Haa… sobs… haha… sobs…"
Broken and hoarse, his voice carried into the empty air.
Alone.
Isolated.
Left to die.
Used.
Again.
Used like a damn pawn—just like before.
Was this all he was worth?
A throwaway villain in someone else's story?
At that moment, the emotions he'd buried beneath duty, mission, and self-restraint cracked open like a shattered dam.
He cried.
An hour.
Two.
Maybe three.
He lost all sense of time.
The world faded.
They say men don't cry from physical pain.
They cry when the wounds run deeper—when the soul is fractured.
He was done.
He tilted his head up.
Darkness had fallen.
Drip. Drop. Drip. Drop.
Rain.
He didn't move.
Couldn't move.
Didn't even try.
He let it fall over him like it might wash everything away—
The pain.
The memories.
The failure.
He had tried his best.
Even when the System twisted his role toward villainy, he had protected the people he called friends.
Always from the shadows.
Always in secret.
He couldn't reveal his knowledge of this world, so he suffered alone.
Saved them—time and again.
Even Isabelle, who never knew the sword aimed at her had been deflected by his hand.
Carmella had started to suspect.
He'd saved her too many times to stay invisible.
Sometimes in disguise. Sometimes not.
She had noticed. At least, a part of her had.
But he never knew.
How could he, always off chasing some mission, some manipulated thread from the System?
Now, there was nothing left.
No tears.
Just the cold.
He lay there, soaked in rain and regret, wondering…
Was it worth it?
Drip. Drop.
The storm eventually passed.
He stared at the clouded sky. Then, slowly—painfully—shifted his weight and forced himself upright.
He wasn't dead.
So maybe… maybe he could still do something with this pathetic life.
Revenge.
The thought curled through his mind like smoke.
To make them all feel what hopeless really meant.
But he had no power.
Revenge was a luxury of the strong.
A privilege stolen from him the day he was dragged into this world—weak, voiceless, bound.
Scripted.
This had always been his destiny.
He had known it.
And in the end, he'd done nothing to change it.
"…Sigh."
He winced, staggering to his feet, gripping his bruised shoulder.
"Outside…" he muttered, blinking around, "…They threw me out."
He was just beyond the gates of the academy. Technically still on school grounds—but exiled nonetheless.
The only way out from here was the portal to Elflame, the city beyond.
He turned back once, gazing toward the silent academy.
At this hour, all students would be confined to their dorms.
No wonder it was so quiet.
With a final glance, he limped away, each step a battle of will.
An hour later, he reached the transport terminal.
He surrendered his student badge—the last trace of his life here.
In return, they gave him a one-time portal pass.
He stepped through.
A different world greeted him on the other side.
Night.
He exhaled slowly, deeply.
He didn't even know where to go now.
But he moved.
He limped forward.
No reason.
No goal.
Just motion.
Until—
"Stop."
A voice.
He froze.
"…Huh?" he frowned.
That voice—he knew it.
But before he could turn around—
Boom.
His world exploded in red and heat.
Fire.
A wave of it.
A sun, born from nowhere, swallowing everything in its path.
"…Fuck."