Seeing them behave like this gives me a headache.
Not the kind that goes away with a pill or some silence. No, this one sinks its claws in when you already know how the story's going to end, but you're still stuck watching it unfold anyway.
This emo bastard will kill him. No hesitation. No second thoughts. That's the path he walks, and it's never any different.
Cale knows it. Because he's seen it.
998 times, to be exact. Regression is a curse that drips the future into your skull like poison through a needle. Every time, Rayne becomes the Apostle of the Demon King. It's not a choice. It's just what happens.
He doesn't do it out of malice. But that's always the thing, isn't it? It was never Rayne's hatred Cale saw. It was his face, over and over again, when everything burned—when the world crumbled, and when hope died screaming. Again. And again.
And now, in the 999th round, Cale's choice is clear.
If he gets the chance, he'll kill Rayne first.
And if Rayne dies before I can execute my plan? Well, then the world is going to be royally fucked, and I'll die. Huh.
A delightful dilemma, really.
If—by some cosmic absurdity—there's still a way to sever Rayne from his fate, I will take it. I'll drag him off that path, kicking and screaming, if I have to.
Because no one deserves to become a monster just because fate got lazy with its casting.
But if it comes to the edge of the knife—if there's no way out—then I'll kill Rayne myself.
Not out of hate. Not out of vengeance.
Out of mercy.
Anyway. Priorities.
First, I need to choose my weapon.
The system prompt blinked at me, as if it had been waiting for this moment:
[[ Condition:
Deliberately and publicly select the dagger as your weapon of choice. ]]
Simple. Too simple.
Which, of course, made it suspicious.
I knew what it meant: I had to choose the dagger. On purpose. In front of everyone. No subtlety. No trickery.
It couldn't possibly be that simple.
I walked toward the dagger rack in the armory, where blades stood like silent animals, each one waiting to be named.
Rows of options. Steel dreams, both curved and straight. Some ceremonial. Some cruel. But I ignored the ones that looked like they belonged in an anime fight scene.
Instead, I chose a pair that fit like they remembered me.
Curved. Compact. Like karambits from my previous life. Designed to hook, to cut, to end. Not flashy. Not theatrical. Just... honest.
I didn't pick them because they looked cool.
This wasn't a fantasy novel, no matter how many glowing quest prompts were trying to sell it as one.
It just made sense.
Curled like punctuation at the end of a sentence I'd never meant to finish.
I had trained in Systema, MMA, Judo, Karate—others too obscure to name. You'd think that would make me feel ready.
It doesn't.
Combat isn't choreography. It's chaos. Panic. Blood in places it shouldn't be. Bones snapping because someone flinched a second too late.
In that kind of mess, I needed something efficient. Something unromantic.
The karambit doesn't scream power. It whispers control.
It lets me cut without flair. End things before they spiral.
People call that precision.
I call it necessary.
I don't fight for pride. I never did. That's for the people who still think they are the main characters.
I fight because sometimes, the world grips you by the throat and asks, Do you want to keep breathing?
This blade answers for me.
Not because I'm brave. Not because I'm strong.
But because I don't know how to stop.
> [[Sub Quest: Choose the Dagger — Completed]]
I reached out and took the blade no one expected me to touch.
Not for glory. Not even for strategy.
Just... because something in it called to something in me.
A quiet surrender to inevitability.
[[ > Condition Met:
You chose the dagger deliberately and publicly. ]]
[[ The Constellation 'The Fallen Prince of the Lunar Throne' is silently pleased. ]]
[[ Reward Unlocked:
→ Stage 2: Thought Reflection (Eye of Tsukoyumi) ]]
I was in a decent mood. Not because the world had suddenly decided to play nice—just because, for once, something had come easily.
Naturally, that didn't last.
Pain exploded behind my eyes—hot, sharp, deliberate. Like someone got tired of subtlety and went for nails through the skull instead.
I inhaled slowly through my nose. Held it.
No gasps. No theatrics. Just a quiet, futile attempt to stay composed as I pressed both palms to my face, fingers trembling against my temples.
This bastard of a constellation—hadn't even bothered with a warning.
Not a polite system message. Not a gentle,
"Hey, this might feel like your brain's being peeled apart and turned inside out."
Nope. Just agony. Raw and personal.
"Are you okay? Should I help you to the infirmary?"
The voice was soft. Beautiful, even.
Which felt ironic, given I couldn't open my eyes long enough to see the person it belonged to.
Life always did have a taste for cruel timing.
"I'm fine. Thank you."
Short. Measured. Still pretending I had control over anything at all.
Eventually, the pain dulled—retreating from an explosion to a steady throb, like a blade tucked under the skin, waiting.
I cracked open my eyes. The light bled in, too bright, and the armory around me wavered like heat rising from cracked stone. My breath caught—half from the pain, half from what stood before me.
Long silver hair draped down her shoulders, strands catching the armory light like threads of moonlight. Her crimson eyes locked onto mine.
She wore a dark blue off-shoulder dress, our academy uniform. Graceful. Regal. A silhouette born of elegance and ruin. She didn't belong in this world—not like this. She looked like someone pulled straight out of a painter's final masterpiece, right before madness claimed the brush.
She stood directly in front of me—
Sana Althea.
The sub-heroine. The imperial princess. The tragic rose of the Althea Empire.
One of my favorite characters from the novel...
And the one fate had already marked for ruin.
In this ruined novel, she was just a concubine's daughter—barely clinging to status, a fading royal seal ghosted behind her eyes. A throne candidate in name only.
Her political faction? Nonexistent.
Her allies? A joke.
Her odds of survival? Statistically, grim.
The Emperor doted on her, sure. And her mother—back when she still breathed—had loved her in quiet corners, behind veiled windows.
But love, in this empire, is the softest blade. It cuts deep, but it never shields.
They tried to keep her out of the war for the throne. Tried to save her by hiding her away.
And it worked.
For a time.
But stories don't let beautiful, broken things stay untouched forever.
In the original novel, her half-brother—the First Prince—succumbed to his own hunger for power.
He allied with demonic humans. Summoned a one of the 72 demons of outside, into the heart of the capital.
Slaughtered half the city just to prove he could.
The Emperor died trying to stop him.
And Sana?
She became Crown Princess by default.
Thrust onto a throne drowned in blood.
No allies. No leverage. No hope.
Just herself—and the weight of a dying empire.
So she did what every desperate heroine eventually does.
She clung to the protagonist.
Cale Ashblood.
The emotionally bankrupt, sharp-edged mess of a man.
She found him. Quietly. Desperately. Hoping he'd save her.
He didn't.
In the end, she lost everything.
And became the Witch of Calamity.
That was the story as written.
But this isn't a story anymore.
It's a battlefield dressed in narrative.
And I'm standing face to face with the girl the script has already decided to shatter.
She looked at me with those unruined crimson eyes—eyes that didn't yet know how cruel the world could be.
The tragedy hadn't started.
Not really.
Right now, she was just... human.
Beautiful, yes. Almost painfully so.
But not because of some divine glow or aesthetic perfection.
She was beautiful like a dying star—still burning, still proud, unaware of the collapse creeping in.
I wondered if I could stop it.
Then I wondered if I should.
Thoughts like that never end well.
Not for people like me.
The pain behind my eyes pulsed again. Hot. Heavy. A reminder. A curse.
Still, I met her gaze.
And I smiled.
Like I didn't already know how this all ends.
------
[[ Author's Note:
If you enjoyed the chapter, please leave a comment and a Power Stone! Your support means a lot to me.]]