Rowan thought the worst was behind him—that Sora didn't have anything too horrifying left up her sleeve.
Oh Don, was he wrong.
She had saved the best for last.
"Are you ready for the final test?" Sora asked, voice laced with anticipation.
Rowan, emboldened by his new skill, puffed up with false bravado. "No problem. Throw whatever you got at me—I can handle it."
Sora, who had been about to snap her fingers and begin, paused mid-motion. A mischievous grin curled on her lips. "Oh, you can handle it, huh? Well then, I was going to go easy on you… but if you insist—let's make things more interesting."
Rowan's eyes widened. "Wait, no, I didn't mean it like—"
"Bring it on," he blurted instead.
But inside?
"That is not what I wanted to say at all. What I really wanted to say was 'Oh sh—'"
Sora snapped her fingers.
The scene around him shattered.
When Rowan opened his eyes again, he was in the back of an SUV driving through a gloomy forest shrouded in mist and moonlight. Two Spanish police officers sat in the front seats, casually chatting with a tone that felt a little too amused for his liking.
He glanced to the side—and froze.
His reflection in the window wasn't his.
"Aw crap, not another one of these," he muttered.
Looking back at him was the rugged, haunted face of Leon S. Kennedy.
Rowan blinked once. Twice.
"…Huh. I'm Leon Kennedy."
A beat passed.
"OH F***. I'M LEON S. KENNEDY! OH SH** PLEASE TELL ME THIS ISN'T WHAT I THINK IT IS—SORA, YOU'RE EVIL!!"
---
System Notification
[Quest Updated]
Title: Sora's Trolling… I Mean Training, Part 3
Objective: Clear the villager rush from the prologue
Note: Skills disabled until quest completion
Reward: Knife Fighting Skill (Basic), Resident Evil 4 Primal Knife, Bonus reward if Dr. Salvador is killed before the timer ends
Penalty for Failure: Spend the next 2 days as Ashley Graham, running from villagers
---
"Oh COME ON, Sora!" Rowan groaned. "If you're gonna disable my skills, at least don't pick that penalty!"
---
System Notification:
Are you sure you want to make that request?
---
A bead of sweat rolled down Rowan's temple. He hesitated… and then said, "…Yes."
---
System Notification:
Penalty Updated: Upon failure, host will spend the next 2 days as Mizuki Yukikaze in the Under Eden brothel.
---
Rowan stared at the message. "Oh f***. The hell no. I—absolutely NOT. Never. Not in a thousand Don-damn years!"
His face twisted into determination and rage. "That's it. I'm going to FUCKING SLAUGHTER EVERY VILLAGER I SEE. NO FUCKING SURVIVORS. The villagers better be worried about surviving me!"
Once his fear-fueled rant died down, Rowan took a deep breath and began formulating a game plan. He opened his inventory.
Thankfully, Sora wasn't completely heartless—he'd been given Leon's starting gear and the Skull Cracker from the pre-order pack. Twenty shotgun shells, forty handgun rounds, and the standard combat knife.
"Alright," Rowan muttered. "I can do this. I can win."
He grinned to himself, channeling his inner abridged Piccolo. "I feel great. I. CAN. DO. THIS."
---
The scene played out like the game—one cop went off to relieve himself, the other eventually sent Rowan to investigate. If this were any other situation, he would've geeked out over the perfectly recreated Resident Evil 4 Remake prologue. But not this time.
This time… he was on a mission.
He stalked through the misty graveyard and entered the hunter's cabin. In the main room, a large man stirred something that definitely resembled human-soup.
Rowan didn't wait.
Unlike Leon, he didn't talk.
He didn't hesitate.
He slammed his knife straight through the man's temple, killing him instantly.
"…Huh. No XP?" he asked aloud.
---
Sora's voice echoed in his mind. "Yeah… I decided to phase out the whole stat screen thing. From now on, I'll just tell you how strong you are in DxD power level terms. Here's your current status."
---
Status
Name: Rowan Bael
Race: Devil
Age: 17
Title(s): The New Guy
Affiliation: Devils
Alignment: Neutral
Power Level: Mid-Low Class
---
"Congrats!" Sora added. "You're now slightly stronger than the average mob! If you've got a complaint—stop being so damn lazy and actually put in some work!"
"…Fair enough," Rowan muttered.
---
He grabbed the basement key, unlocked the door, and descended. He found the cop's body, showed zero reaction, and waited.
The moment the supposedly-dead villager stumbled down the stairs, Rowan emptied his clip into him, retreating step by step. After reloading, he crept through the hall, avoiding other villagers, and made his way upstairs.
He slammed the door shut behind him and jumped out the window as they broke it down.
Three more villagers greeted him outside.
Rowan didn't waste bullets—he took them out with a mix of knife strikes and stealth takedowns.
Finally, he arrived at the village gate.
He took a deep breath.
Focused.
"Okay… let's do this."
He remembered what was on the line.
And this time?
It wasn't just about surviving.
It was about making damn sure the villagers didn't.