I'm sick of this.
I've lost count of how many times I've opened my eyes in a brand-new world, new body, new name, new "extraordinary" destiny.
Impressive, right? Born to be a hero, the last hope of humanity.
The first time, I believed it. The second, I still held onto hope. The third, I fought even while dragging my weary body. The fourth, I forced myself forward despite the doubts.
But now? Now I just want to sit back and watch others struggle to protect this dying world.
I'm done with it. Truly.
Every battle is still etched into my mind. Every wound that never really healed. Every cry I pretended not to hear. A life trapped in the same cycle: praised, used, forgotten… and in the end, killed. Again.
How did it come to this? I was just an ordinary guy who wanted to enjoy a game. So how did I end up in such a pitiful state?!
While others laugh with their families, eat together, live in happiness, I'm forced to fight over and over, even when I'm sick of it, just to protect that fragile peace.
And what for? It's all meaningless. They don't remember. They forget. They turn a blind eye.
I was so close to achieving what I wanted. Victory was in my grasp. But fate betrayed me.
Why? Why did they do this?
"You're dangerous to us."
"You must be killed before you become a threat."
"Your glory is over. This is the end."
And the people…
"Die already! You should've died!"
"Why did you kill my child?! He's just ordinary kid!"
"A hero? Don't make me laugh! You couldn't even save the people!"
That's right. That's me.
A so-called hero who couldn't save anyone.
But aren't they idiots? If you want your families safe, why don't you be the heroes yourselves?
"Kill him!"
"Kill him! Kill him!"
"Kill him!"
"Kill!!"
The roar of thousands filled the air, a storm of screams, curses, and sobs that made my ears ring. I stood in the center of it all, body battered and bleeding, breath caught in my throat. The stench of blood choked me with every inhale.
From between the crowd, a man stepped forward. The blade in his hand gleamed, freshly sharpened. Our eyes met and in his gaze, there was no hesitation, no mercy, only a burning hatred.
"You don't deserve to exist in this world," he whispered before swinging his sword.
Shing!
A chilling sensation cut across my neck. The world spun slowly, and then my vision dropped to the blood-soaked ground. In front of me, my own body remained standing for a moment before collapsing lifelessly.
"Ahh… so this is how it feels," I let out a weak laugh, my voice barely a whisper.
"My head really is… rolling away."
The crowd's screams erupted like thunder around me, but the sound grew fainter, more distant, fading into nothing. Only one truth remained clear in my fading mind:
I died. Again.
And once again, I was reborn.
Maybe this time will be different? I don't know. But it's funny, isn't it? This world really thinks it can force me to shoulder that destiny again.
Fine. Let's try something new.
This time, I'll be the Joker.
A hero?
Boring.
A king?
Been there.
A savior?
Exhausting.
But a Joker…?
Isn't it far more entertaining to stand on the sidelines, laughing at all the characters desperately trying to script their own destinies?
Don't misunderstand. I'm not truly a Joker.
Maybe I'm… something else. Something without a name. Something already sick of this recycled script.
Yes. This time, I'll live however I please. If this world won't create a hero, I'll make one myself. If fate tries to force me down, I'll laugh in its face.
Because this isn't "The Birth of a Hero."
This is "The Making of a Hero."
Let's live in peace, right in the middle of this chaos.
Patch Update: Rebirth.