"Sigh, perhaps there's no other choice left."
The raven-haired man sighed heavily, as if carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. Blood from countless wounds dripped down, drop by drop, pooling beneath his feet. His left arm hung limply at his side, twisted beyond recognition. His right eye was clouded, its gaze empty as if swallowed by darkness.
But though his body was broken, his will remained unshaken.
His hand tightened around the black spear, his lips curling into a faint, bitter smile.
"...Live on, Alice," he whispered, his weak voice lost amid the howling wind and countless screams of the enemy.
The air around him suddenly transformed, vibrating with waves of pure energy. Magic surged from his body, flowing directly into the spear. A black vortex erupted, tearing through the night, illuminating the battlefield with crimson-purple lightning.
"No! Please, don't do this!"
The girl in red cried out, her voice breaking between choked sobs. Tears streamed down her face, her trembling hands reaching desperately toward him. "You don't have to do this! There must be another way!"
But he didn't answer.
The slight smile on his lips gradually faded, replaced by a calm, almost peaceful expression. Determination shone in his eyes, unwavering despite the girl's heartbreaking cries. He had made his choice.
"Take care. This is what must be done," he said, his voice gentle and warm.
But it was that very warmth that shattered her heart.
And then he charged into battle.
The black lightning storm swirled around him, destroying everything in its path. His form became nothing but a blur, sweeping past each enemy, taking them down in the blink of an eye.
The girl's screams echoed from afar, but he didn't look back. He couldn't.
For her. For everything he cherished. He was ready to sacrifice his life without hesitation.
The screen froze for a moment, capturing the chaos of the battlefield in a single frame. And then, as if mocking me, the words "He saved everyone" appeared in bold, emotionless text.
"Oh come on, he died again."
I sighed, leaning back in my chair, body aching from playing continuously all morning.
Still couldn't save him? I've already upgraded him to the max.
My favorite character—the one who carried me through so many battles—had fallen again. And this was the third time today.
He wasn't even the main character. Just a supporting character without much screen time or dialogue. But in terms of gameplay, he stood out with his stats and playstyle.
To be blunt, he was my main.
"Hey, are you doing this on purpose? You're clearly playing the Bad End route. How can you possibly save him that way?" My sister, sitting cross-legged beside me, pouted with annoyance as she looked at the results.
After I'd killed off nearly all the main characters, she was starting to get irritated. Heh.
"Of course not. Bad End or not, I'm just trying to find a way for him to live instead of that ordinary female protagonist," I smirked and took a sip of my energy drink.
She gaped, clutching her phone as if I'd just insulted her. "Ordinary? You're calling the female lead ordinary?"
"Yeah, that's right." I pointed at the screen where the heroine's portrait was glowing. "Look at her pathetic stats. She just stands there waiting to be rescued. Meanwhile, the one carrying the team has to die."
"Eh, you're just jealous because he wasn't included in the main cast," my sister stuck out her tongue, teasing as if she'd won the argument.
She's getting too sassy; next time I play I should kill all her favorite characters.
Joking aside, I couldn't deny she was right.
"Well... yeah," I crossed my arms with a sigh. "Someone with such an important role but no good ending just feels wrong. And the main cast too, I feel like none of them deserve the female lead. And don't get me started on the prince. That guy is boring."
"Hey, the prince is nice!" she argued, jabbing me in the ribs with her elbow. "Not everyone likes a brooding guy or a tragic hero like that one. Some people like us prefer someone kind and reliable."
"Yeah, but kind and reliable doesn't win games," I muttered, staring at the screen as if it could hear me. "And besides, I don't like seeing him get NTR'd."
Right, who would seriously want to watch NTR? The feeling of losing your partner is truly hateful. I experienced it once so I understand, perhaps that's why I quite like that character.
She rolled her eyes. "It's not NTR if he doesn't even have a route."
I clenched my fist and exited the current save file, ending this route to start over again.
Damn, talking to her is so annoying. I'm self-inserting into that guy which is why I feel bothered, but she doesn't understand.
Whatever. Trying to change someone else's perspective is foolish.
I sighed, pressing the reset button on the game console. The title screen flickered back to life, the theme music filling the room. "Let's try again. This time, I'll keep him alive, at any cost."
Yeah... I'll try to change his fate. Surely the publisher isn't cruel enough to make him die in every single route.
Right?...
No.
Deep down, I knew it was futile. No matter how many different strategies I tried, no matter how much I upgraded him, Val Reznik was destined to die.
It was written into the foundation of the story, an unchangeable constant in a world full of branching paths. To make a comparison, it's like how Lancer must die in every route—nothing can change that.
I say that, I accept it. But I hate it. I hate how the game dangles the illusion of choice in front of me, only to snatch it away when it matters most.
Sure, Mahoyoku is a fantastic game—one of the best I've ever played. Amazing affinity system, engaging story, vast world, and authentic characters. Every character route is good in its own way.
But deceiving players about their choices? That I cannot forgive. They might as well have made him unplayable from the start.
I stared at the screen after losing yet again, the cursor hovering over the "Continue" button.
Is it worth trying again?
"Are you really going to continue?" my sister asked, raising an eyebrow, her initial amused expression now worn thin.
I sighed, leaning back in my chair after the seventh loading screen. "Well, maybe life is simply unfair," I mumbled. "Some people just have to die."
She seems to be getting bored too...
Enough, let's stop.
"Let's go get something to eat," I muttered, finally surrendering. With a sigh, I reached for the remote and turned off the screen.
Perhaps a sequel or a spin-off will give me a better ending. Perhaps Val Reznik can finally survive and get the ending he deserves.
But trying like this—over and over—is pointless.
I started to push myself off the sofa, but before I could fully stand, my vision darkened. A strange, suffocating weight pressed down on me and the world around me tilted like a ship losing control.
"Big brother! Are you okay?!"
My sister's voice rang out, panicked and distorted, as if echoing from an endless tunnel. I tried to answer, but couldn't form any words. My head was spinning, my vision blacked out, and then... a strange sensation spread throughout my body—a flood of emotions and memories pouring into my mind.
But they weren't mine.
Or... were they?
Images flashed through my head: a chaotic battlefield, blood-soaked weapons, desperate screams echoing through the air. I saw a man standing tall amidst hopeless circumstances, the black spear in his hand glittering amidst a storm of lightning.
Then, my eyes snapped open.
Before me was my little sister, her face pale with worry. But something was... wrong. Her hair was longer, disheveled, and her clothes were strange—as if they belonged to a world I wasn't part of.
She looked different... My room looked different too.
This was no longer my living room.
And she... wasn't my sister.
But something was wrong. Something didn't fit. I stared at the girl before me, my heart pounding in my chest as pieces of memory began to fit together.
No, wait—she is my sister. This is my room. What I just saw wasn't real.
Was it a dream?!
And then, it hit me.
I am... Val.
That realization crushed me like a tsunami, drowning me in uncontrollable chaos. My breathing became rapid, my chest tightened. Fragments of memories—no, that life—flooded my mind, tangled and interwoven like a mess of yarn.
Memories from last night came rushing back.
The glowing eyes of the dryad burned in my mind, like an unquenchable flame. Her mysterious words echoed like a haunting melody, repeating endlessly. That smile... as if she had predicted everything, had planned it all long ago.
Damn it.
"That dryad... what was she? Why have I never seen her in the game?" I mumbled, the words escaping my lips before I could stop them.
The air in the room suddenly became heavy, tense.
The girl before me—whom I thought was my sister—froze mid-motion, her hands still gripping my shoulders as if to hold me in reality. Her face contorted in confusion, eyebrows furrowed, looking as if I had just spoken an alien language.
"What are you talking about, big brother?" she asked, her voice trembling. "What dryad? What game? What happened in the forest?"
Her words were like a slap, pulling me back to reality—or whatever I was experiencing. My eyes blinked, my mind working at full capacity to rationalize the current situation.
"..."
I opened my mouth, but no words came out. How could I explain this? How could I tell her that I wasn't just her brother anymore—that I might be someone else? That I wasn't even sure who I was?
"Sigh... it's nothing," I finally said, trying to force a shaky smile as I leaned back against the pillow. "I just passed out from fighting too much."
The lie felt hollow, like a bad actor fumbling with his lines.
Her expression darkened, her eyes scanning my face as if searching for points to argue. For a moment, I thought she would dig deeper, demand answers I couldn't provide. But then her expression softened, her hands releasing my shoulders.
"Goodness, it feels like you're a different person," she said softly, her voice tinged with doubt. "But... thinking about it, you've always been like this. Anyway, if you're okay now, I'm going."
Phew, that was close.
She didn't seem to believe me, but she didn't press either. With a small sigh, she stood up and turned toward the door, muttering something about calling our parents.
The door closed behind her, leaving me alone in the stifling silence of the room.
I exhaled shakily, running a hand through my hair. God, this was bizarre.
"Is this... transmigration?"
"Tranmigration?"—the word rolled off my tongue, foreign yet familiar. A term I had heard so often from memories of another world.
"Heh... no," I snorted, the sound bitter.
No way. This isn't a story where I get hit by a truck and wake up in another world with superior powers.
I am Val Reznik, born and raised in the border region of Rim to a family of butchers. My hobbies are hunting and drawing. All my experiences and memories happened without being influenced by any external forces. Yes, I'm still me, not some reincarnated person.
but how could it be?
Memories make a person—that's the truth. The moment I received those memories, my self—my identity—was shattered.
I am no longer the same person I was yesterday.