Halo D. Tenebris. The contradiction was embedded in his name… Tenebris, Latin for darkness, paired with Halo, symbol of angels and divinity.
His existence mirrored that paradox, contradictory and dark in equal measure. Honestly, even his name sounded like two parents were arguing during his birth certificate signing.
"Bastard…"
The word scraped past Halo's lips before he even realized it. The world froze for a heartbeat, the trigger clicked, and then a bullet tore through his skull.
Everything went still, and without a thought, he knew it was over.
Because of a DAMN game. Of course. Not the poison, not an enemy, not fate, just pixels and poor life decisions.
"Damnation of the Gods." The name resurfaced in his mind even as the light faded from his eyes, the same game that had ruined everything.
The game's release was limited to a select few globally, and Halo was unfortunate. Worse, he had no idea who was in charge of the game's production. Whoever they were, they definitely owed him an apology. And a refund. Preferably both.
It had him go through sleepless nights, sneaking into his best friend's room to play until dark circles formed beneath his eyes. It touched something within him that nothing could. And that "something" was probably his sanity, begging him to stop.
They had been turned into assassins at ten, right after their parents' deaths.
Eight years of that life, and this game was the only thing that made him feel even a little bit human. He saw himself in the hero.
As monstrous as he became, with many falling by his hand without so much as a flinch, he expected his own death sooner or later, but not how it ended.
Shot over a game? Even for him, that was embarrassing.
He was furious. He could have torn the world apart if it meant going back in time.
But Halo understood his friend's action, at least partly. They were both damaged beyond fixing, and the loving friend he'd grown up with was gone.
He found a strange peace in having it end by his best friend's hand. It seemed right somehow… poetic, tragic, and extremely inconvenient.
He'd always hoped to avenge his parents one day, but even that concern felt distant now. Despite everything between them, he trusted his best friend would see it through.
After all, he'd been dying anyway. After being poisoned on their last mission, he felt his own life slowly fading away. The sweaty palms, abrupt gasps for air, and loss of consciousness were all too obvious. Honestly, if he didn't die then, stress would've finished the job.
He wondered if his best friend had noticed it too, despite Halo never telling him.
But despite this, Halo found himself in a strange situation.
He was supposed to be dead, that much was certain. But not only was he breathing with his skin crawling, his dizziness was also no more, and his eyes darted at a bronze screen in confusion. He was still alive.
No ghostly chorus, no heavenly gates. Just… a screen. Great.
The screen seemed burned into his retinas and consciousness, tracking his every glance and floating mere inches from his head no matter where he looked. Basically, an overly enthusiastic pop-up ad.
***
[ Congratulations, Awakened! Welcome to the Lost World.]
[ Name: Halo D. Tenebris
Title: Shadow of Death
Rank: Awakened
True ability: Death Clone - - - Description:
Flaw: Coldness
Only Sin: Death
Nemesis:?
—
Sin Fragments: 0/10
Dominant Skill: Agility
Clones: 0 ]
***
Halo had never been the one to be afraid. Even in his most dire situations, fear was nothing but a distant memory. But now… he couldn't help but tremble in his boots. Actual trembling. The universe was really doing too much.
The screen before his eyes was oddly familiar, and his surroundings also felt equally lived in. Just like the prologue from the game. Damnation of the Gods.
Before him spread a magnificent wilderness of towering trees with bark that shimmered when brushed against.
Even more haunting were the pale mushrooms that rose above the forest's green crown, their ghostly forms scattered across the landscape in overwhelming abundance.
The sun was distant but still glowed brilliantly. It was so far away that it looked barely the size of a coin. Definitely not ideal for tanning.
This breathtaking sight, the strange atmosphere, was both sharp and warm. The reality of his predicament hit him with crushing weight.
Halo gulped and turned behind him to see a massive brick building.
He was able to approach this game three times, and the last led to his death.
Obviously, the third time wasn't the charm, it was the funeral.
But he was certain, he stood before the academy in which the players prepared themselves for the world.
He rubbed his forehead and slapped his cheek multiple times out of frustration.
If pain meant reality, he was really in trouble.
There was no wound on his brow. That was the first thing he checked in his predicament.
Past that…
He wore a black uniform with a high neck and long, puffed sleeves, resembling a hakama style (Japanese Jumpsuit.)
He also had high, ankle-length black boots that were practical and military-inspired. Just like the NPCs in the prologue.
Wonderful. He had officially become part of the background cast.
He felt his symmetrical features, long lashes, and thick eyebrows. His hair remained dirty-white with vivid red streaks, something that solidified his gene as a Tenebris. But how? Honestly, reincarnation keeping his hair dye was impressive.
"I am very much alive. So what happened? Transmigrated into the game? Tsk."
Halo massaged his forehead for a moment and let out a sigh.
He wasn't superstitious, but he wasn't the kind of person to dwell much on the unknown, and after all, he understood the world he found himself in to some extent. Enough to know it was a terrible place to take an unexpected vacation.
Halo glanced at the bronze translucent screen before his eyes, and all it took was a thoughtful command, and it disappeared.
At least the UI listened better than his friends ever did.
This was a world ruled by gods, and worse, every corner of it was filled with monstrous creatures called Sinners.
But he wasn't the kind to commit suicide, he still held on to some principles.
Through the thickness and depth, he had to face this world head-on. Preferably with all limbs intact.
He didn't know the specifics of this world, but he was certain of one thing: find safety first, assess his ability, then locate the hero.
They were all doomed by the hero's actions anyway, and the hero was his best chance of understanding how he'd ended up here and what was really going on.
And something told him… he had already missed something important.
Which, knowing his luck, was probably life-or-death critical.