Haah… Hah… Haaah—
Each breath scraped through Eren's throat. His chest rose and fell in ragged stutters, ribs burning beneath torn skin. Blood clung to his lashes.
He was battered.
Broken.
He couldn't move.
No, he'd long since abandoned the notion. His limbs were bound—tightly, cruelly—with steel-threaded chains that cut into flesh with every twitch.
"…Help…" he whispered, the word barely a breath.
But there was no one to hear him.
The room was too quiet. Bright, suffocatingly so. Sunlight poured through a gauzy curtain that billowed faintly in the stillness, casting golden rays across the polished floor. It was almost peaceful—if not for the scent of iron, sweat, and pain that soaked the air.
Creak.
The door eased open with a slow groan, and in stepped the nightmare he had once known as a classmate. A girl with pink hair, soft eyes, and a smile that had once seemed sweet.
Now?
That smile was gone.
In its place: silence, composed and terrifying.
"Anna…" His voice cracked. "Please… just let me die."
He didn't care anymore. Not about pride. Not about answers. Not even about vengeance.
All he wanted was to stop breathing.
But she would never grant him that mercy. No. Not Anna.
She had her precious healing potions. High-grade, top-tier alchemical marvels that could drag a man back from death's embrace. And she used them—not to heal, but to prolong.
To rewind the pain. Again. And again. And again.
"Why did you attack Jason?" she asked. "Who sent you?"
Her footsteps were soft as she walked toward the small table beside the bed he was chained to. On it were items that no household should ever contain—blades, pliers, files… and bottles.
So many bottles.
"Please…" His voice was barely human now. "I'm begging you. Stop this. Just end it…"
Her expression didn't change.
"Do you… even understand what you've done?" she whispered, eyes trembling. "You tried to hurt him. My Jason. The only reason I breathe."
Her hands trembled, balled into fists.
"I should gut you right here. Skin you. Burn every inch until, and make sure you watch every bit of it!"
She wasn't exaggerating.
Eren had read the novel.
He knew exactly what she was.
Anna. The yandere heroine. The one so obsessed with Jason like the many others, that she would offer her own arm if he asked of it.
She would do anything for him.
"Tell me who sent you," she said again. "Because if you don't—"
"I already told you," Eren coughed, blood bubbling between his lips. "No one sent me. I… I did it out of envy. That's all. I just wanted to… feel something."
She stared at him. Unblinking.
Then she turned to the table and picked up a small, clear bottle—its contents sloshing gently.
He stiffened.
"…What is that?"
Anna smiled.
"Acid."
The word fell like a guillotine.
"Don't—don't do this," he croaked, fighting against the restraints even though his body screamed with agony. "I'm begging you, please! Kill me—anything but this!"
"You'll talk," she said, her voice oddly gentle. "We have five days. I'm confident you'll open up before then."
She took a step forward.
"Tell me," she said again. "Why did filth like you try to kill the love of my life?"
"…No one sent me."
The words barely escaped him before she tilted the bottle.
And poured.
Ssshhhhh—
The sound of burning flesh filled the room.
Then came the scream.
It ripped from Eren's throat. A howl of agony so pure it silenced even the birds outside the house.
"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"
He thrashed. Twitched. Spasmed. The acid had struck his chest, and already the skin was bubbling, peeling away like paper set aflame. The scent—acrid, choking—filled his lungs.
Tears streamed from his eyes. His voice cracked. The world blurred.
Why?
Why this life?
Why this fate?
What had he done to deserve this?
He had never asked to be reincarnated. Never asked to be dragged into this cursed world of heroes and gods, of chosen ones and destined deaths.
He had only wanted peace.
But peace had never wanted him.
He had been murdered in his last life by someone he'd called a friend. And here, too, he'd been discarded. Used. Lied to by a goddess who offered him hope only to twist it into chains.
Why?
WHY?!
His vision blurred.
His body shook.
And then—
Thrum.
A pulse.
Mana.
Wild. Surging.
Something inside him cracked.
He remembered something in that very moment—a forbidden technique. One that offered power in exchange for total ruin. A technique meant to destroy your own mana core and everything with it.
But at this moment?
He welcomed it.
'I don't want to die,' he thought.
Not anymore.
'I want to live. And I want to make them all suffer.'
If this world had no place for someone like him—
Then he would burn it to the ground.
BOOM.
The chains shattered.
Anna stumbled back, eyes wide.
"What the—?!"
He moved.
Faster than thought.
One hand lunged forward—grabbing her face—and with monstrous force, he slammed her head against the table.
CRACK.
The table split in half.
Anna dropped, unconscious or dead—he didn't care.
"Enough," he whispered.
His voice was no longer that of a victim.
It was the voice of something reborn.
His body was a ruin of scars and burns, his face barely human, but his eyes—those burning blue eyes—held the fury of someone who had stared into the abyss and decided to drag it screaming into the light.
He had been the mob.
A background character. A narrative device.
But now?
Now he was something else.
He wasn't going to be the one who lost anymore.
This time—they would.
One by one.
Every last one of them.
And when he was done?
He would tear the goddess from her throne and make her choke on the blood of her chosen.
This… was just the beginning.