"Haa… So now I'm Arthur Glaiz."
The words tasted bitter on my tongue, like ashes I was forced to swallow.
A name that wasn't mine. A name that belonged to a third-rate villain who barely left a scratch on the story before being erased by the protagonist's blade.
Arthur Glaiz.
The jealous rival. The stepping stone. The pitiful fool who grasped at forbidden power and fell screaming into the abyss.
And now, I was him.
I lowered my gaze to the trembling hands in front of me. Thin, pale fingers, marked with calluses from endless sword drills—yet fragile, lacking the weight of true strength. These weren't the hands of a hero who would save humanity. They were the hands of a desperate man clawing at fate, only to be crushed beneath it.
Arthur Glaiz was weak. No matter how hard he trained, he couldn't escape his limits. When the demon whispered in his ear, offering strength in exchange for his soul, he had leapt at the chance. That deal had led to his downfall.
But now… that broken soul was mine.
Suddenly, a stabbing pain lanced through my skull, sharp and merciless, as though a hot needle was being driven straight into my brain.
"Agh—!"
I staggered, clutching my temple. My vision blurred, and then—
Images. Memories.
A house engulfed in flames.
Screams tearing through the night.
A little girl, reaching out with trembling hands, her voice drowned by the roar of fire.
Blood. Smoke. The sickening stench of burning flesh.
And laughter—low, cold, inhuman laughter.
Then… silence.
I gasped for breath, my chest heaving. My hands shook as though I had lived it myself.
"…These are his memories."
Not just memories. His pain. His grief.
His mother, father, and little sister—all slaughtered in front of him during a demon raid. The kind of agony that doesn't fade. The kind that seeps into your marrow, shaping every thought, every choice.
After that night, Arthur had only one purpose: revenge.
He trained obsessively, day after day, year after year. He bled, he broke, he endured. And when his mana finally awakened, it must have felt like salvation. A gift from the heavens.
He joined the Nexus Hunter Academy, humanity's proudest fortress, where the chosen trained to become Hunters—the shields against the darkness. Dreams were forged there. And shattered.
Arthur's dream was shattered brutally. Despite his obsession, despite his grief, despite his endless nights of training, he was weak. His peers mocked him, beat him, treated him like dirt. And each wound on his body was mirrored by another in his heart.
I sat in silence, my breath shallow.
"…I had no idea."
Of course I hadn't. In the game, none of this had been shown. To players, Arthur was just a throwaway villain with a bad temper. A cardboard rival. No past. No humanity.
But now that I had seen it, I couldn't unsee it.
"I always thought Arthur was just a pathetic, jealous bastard… Guess I was wrong."
He wasn't born evil. He was broken. And now, I wore his skin.
I exhaled slowly, running a hand through my messy hair. "Haa… this is exhausting."
But moping wouldn't help. His past was carved in stone. My present was not. If I was going to survive, I had to start somewhere.
I closed my eyes and whispered the words.
"Status Window."
The world responded with a soft chime. A translucent blue panel shimmered into existence before me, floating gently in the air.
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Name: Arthur Glaiz
Class: Swordsman
Talent: 25
Attribute: Locked
...................
Strength: 12
Speed: 14
Dexterity: 12
Perception: 13
Mana: 10
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Passive Skill: Perfect Poker (Epic)
Active Skill: Dash (Common)
...................
Arts:
Basic Sword Style (Common)
Basic Non-Armed Combat (Common)
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I scanned the numbers. My stomach sank lower with each line.
"This… This is why he was always weak."
Fresh recruits at the Academy averaged 20 across their base stats. Arthur barely scratched the teens. Worse still was his Talent.
Talent wasn't just a number—it was a ceiling. A hard cap. No matter how hard Arthur trained, his stats could never rise above 25. That was his fate. That was why he had hit a wall and crashed into despair.
"…So he wasn't just weak. He was doomed."
I clenched my fists. If I had been him, with his ignorance and desperation, maybe I would have fallen to the demon's temptation too.
But I wasn't Arthur.
"No… Not anymore."
My eyes narrowed, locking onto the Passive Skill: Perfect Poker.
"Ohh an epic grade skill"
In this world Skills, fighting arts , artifacts all had a certain grade.Grades indicate the level of rarity for traits, skills, and arts that one possesses. The order of rarity is as follows:
Common < Rare < Epic < Legendary < Mythic < Primordial.
"Let's see what this skill can do."
[An ability to maintain rationality in any situation. Shows great immunity to mind control and brainwash-class curses.]
"…Well now, that's interesting."
A hidden gem, buried under garbage. In a world infested with monsters that attacked the mind, with demons who corrupted from within, this skill was priceless. A mental fortress that could never be shaken.
Arthur had died before he could ever realize its value. But I would not.
Then my eyes caught on the line: Attribute: Locked.
"In the game, Arthur never used magic. Only a sword." I tilted my head. "But what if he had magic skills but simply didn't know how to unlock it?"
A dangerous spark ignited in my thoughts. If I unlocked it… if I gained an attribute , maybe more than one… then Arthur's story could be rewritten.
Of course, the bottleneck was his pitiful mana pool. Ten points of mana wouldn't power more than one or two minor spells, let alone advanced techniques. But I wasn't without options. I had foreknowledge. I knew where to look, what to avoid, how the system worked.
"This is salvageable."
Even the arts weren't worthless. Basic styles, yes—but with enough creativity, they could be sharpened into weapons.
Arthur may have been abandoned by fate… but fate had nothing on me.
"I won't die like some background villain in someone else's story."
I looked at my frail body in the cracked mirror. My ribs jutted under thin skin. My muscles were atrophied from malnutrition and beatings. A single solid punch from a trainee could lay me out.
The body was weak. The mana was low. The Talent was pitiful.
But I knew where to find solutions to every one of those problems.
And time was on my side.
Today was Friday. Classes at the Academy wouldn't resume until Wednesday. That gave me five days.
Three days to shed Arthur Glaiz, the pitiful villain… and start becoming something else.
I threw on the uniform jacket lying carelessly on my chair and willed the status screen away. My mind churned with possibilities. Items I needed to secure. Places I had to visit. People I must avoid at all costs.
"This world abandoned Arthur… but I'm not Arthur."
I gripped the door handle, ready to step out.
Then—
Ding.
A metallic chime rang in the air.
------------------------------------------------------------
Arthur Glaiz
Synchronizing…
20%… 50%… 80%… 99%… 100%
Ding.
Welcome to the world of "The Strongest Hunter's Rise", Arthur Glaiz.
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"…Huh."