So deep, so absolute, I felt as though I were sinking into something without edges, without end. Echoes—hollow, distant—whispered like voices drifting through a curtain of fog.
—Load complete.
—Character: Ravel Kaldwin.
—Fate: Predetermined death.
The words carved themselves across my chest—hot, searing, undeniable.
Predetermined death?
Was this some delirious dream after pulling an all-nighter?
But the moment I forced my eyes open, dread settled into my bones.
I was lying on a cold stone floor inside a dim room lit by a single brass lantern. The air reeked of rust, old wood, and dust thick enough to choke on. And in my right hand—
A practice knife.
"No… no way."
My voice cracked.
The dull blade—its grooves, its size, the faint glimmer along its edge—
I knew it all. Too well.
This was the weapon used by the most pathetic, most tragic, most meaningless villain in the entire game.
Ravel Kaldwin.
A third-rate extra.
A villain so unimportant the developers didn't even give him a proper cutscene. He appeared for a total of two minutes in Chronicle of Bladeheart, only to be torn apart by a stray monster.
Even the developers had once joked on the forums:
"No matter how the player acts, Ravel is scripted to die.
He's comic relief, not relevant."
And now… I was in his body?
A pulse of pain hammered through my skull. Strange memories—his memories—surged in like floodwater: the Kaldwin name, the family's rotten reputation, a childhood steeped in fear of his father.
The overload nearly made my knees buckle.
I steadied myself on a crooked wooden table and looked around.
The Kaldwin Estate's weapon shed.
In the game, this was the place of Ravel's death.
A small, forgettable event location that most players ran past without noticing.
And today…
today was that event.
A script scrolled across my mind like the lines of a forced cutscene:
Ravel Kaldwin
Time of Death: Sunset
Cause: Mutated Dire Wolf breaching the armory
Chance of Survival: 0%
Zero percent.
No choices. No deviation.
Ravel existed only to die.
I clenched the practice knife, fingers trembling.
"I… I don't want to die. At least give me time to breathe…"
A sudden flicker—
A luminous blue panel materialized before my eyes.
[Name: Ravel Kaldwin]
[Class: Third-Rate Villain]
[Level: 1]
[Primary Affinity: DARKNESS — MAX]
[Skills: Umbral Vein (Lv.1), Weapon Echo (Lv.1)]
I stared.
"…Darkness affinity… MAX?"
In the game, Ravel had nothing.
No affinity, no combat potential, no relevance.
He was weaker than basic mobs.
So why did he—or I—have unique Darkness skills?
And Weapon Echo…?
I tapped the description.
[Weapon Echo]:
Allows the user to wield all weapon types with zero penalty.
Automatically adapts movements using 'master-level' combat memories embedded in the dark flow.
That…
was absurd.
Even the protagonist didn't have anything remotely like this.
Another window flashed violently.
[WARNING: Monster Spawn Error Detected]
[Location: Kaldwin Estate — Armory]
[Attack in: 00:00:08]
Silence.
Then—
ROAAAAR!!!
The armory door shuddered, metal bolts popping free. Dust rained from the ceiling. Something massive scraped viciously against the wooden planks.
The monster was early.
In the game, the event triggered at sundown.
It wasn't even afternoon.
Someone—or something—had shattered the narrative.
I scanned the cluttered racks. Spears, a light axe, a rusted chain, a dusty shield. Nothing powerful enough to take on a Mutated Dire Wolf.
The creature was level 12 in the game.
And I… was level 1.
"Okay… dying is not an option."
The countdown ticked red.
…3… 2… 1—
BRAAAAAK!!
The door exploded inward. Splinters flew. Dust swallowed the room.
Two burning yellow eyes glared at me through the haze.
The Mutated Dire Wolf.
Massive, muscled, its shaggy dark fur bristling, its jaw grotesquely oversized.
It growled—
a stench of iron and rot pouring from its fangs.
"This… isn't part of the script."
It lunged.
My body moved before thought.
Weapon Echo wasn't just a skill.
It was a takeover.
My hand darted to a spear, spun it, and hurled it with exact precision at the creature's left eye.
The technique wasn't mine—too sharp, too practiced.
The spear struck.
The monster staggered, shrieking.
But it didn't die.
"I can't believe I just did that—"
It charged again.
I dove to the side, instinctively triggering Umbral Vein.
Shadows beneath me rippled like liquid, tugging my body away with inhuman swiftness.
The wolf slammed into a rack, shattering it.
I rolled, grabbed a short axe—
and the Echo clicked into place.
The weapon felt like it had been molded for my hand.
"Come on… come on!"
It leapt.
I pivoted, planted my heel, and—
CRACK!
The axe tore into its thick neck, splitting hide and muscle.
Dark blood sprayed.
The wolf roared in pure fury.
I vaulted backward, snagged the rusted chain from the ground, and whipped it around its snarling jaws. The chain bit in—just enough to slow it.
That was all I needed.
I drove the axe deeper, summoning strength I had never possessed in my old life.
"DIE!!"
THRUM!!
A wet, violent crunch.
The beast collapsed.
I dropped to my knees, breath ragged, sweat soaking my back. My heart hammered like it wanted to escape my chest.
"Ravel… was never supposed to do this."
A panel blinked.
[Mutated Dire Wolf defeated.]
[EXP +1200]
[Level Up: 1 → 4]
Three levels at once.
I staggered upright—
just as a soft voice broke through the debris.
"Ravel… are you in there?!"
I turned.
A girl with silver hair and a white cloak stood at the doorway, her face drained of color. Her eyes widened at the sight of me drenched in monster blood.
Lunaris Vale.
The main heroine.
In the game, she never once crossed paths with Ravel.
Not a single interaction.
Not even a passing mention.
Yet now… she looked at me as though she'd almost lost someone precious.
"Ravel, you're hurt!" she cried.
I froze.
There was something far more terrifying than the monster I had just killed:
Lunaris was never supposed to be here.
Something had completely derailed the story.
Which meant—
my fate was no longer fixed.
I curled my fingers, letting the shadows pulse against my palm.
"I don't know who twisted this world…" I murmured.
"But as long as I breathe, I refuse to die like the original Ravel."
Third-rate villain or not—
I would survive.