In a room filled with dirty underwear far past their short-lived prime, socks that smelled so putrid they could be used in chemical warfare, and half-eaten convenience food sat a boy. The boy here looked sickly and malnourished. He reeked of body odor either due to his unawareness of the smell or the lack of soap. His unkempt black hair stuck to his forehead. His stature of 5’7 perfectly conformed with his seat. An imprint on the worn-out gaming chair suggested he was often in this position and had been in that position for some time now. His dark brown eyes that were beady like a snake always gave the impression that he was in a foul mood. These eyes, only God knew who he had inherited them from, had killed any chance at him finding a girlfriend. Others always saw him as a delinquent, though his loner tendencies certainly did not help the situation. Currently, he was ranting on a forum about the gloriousness that was waifu Rem. 

With the zeal of a holy, if not crazed crusader, he debunked the nonbelievers’ thoughts, “If not Rem for best waifu, then who? Who else brings the mc back from depression, agrees to run away with him, and still accepts him loving someone else? Who else would not just kill him for stupidly chasing a girl who doesn’t even love him? Who else would still express their love after being so heartlessly rejected? Who could embody the ideals of true perfection if not Rem.? Who? No one. For that is the beauty of Rem.”

A misguided heathen dared to reply, “Darkness is better, her tits hold up justice.”

He snorted in ridicule. The uninitiated may be led astray, but he had spread Rem’s gospel for many years now. Such a simple reason could barely elicit a yawn. With the ease of an experienced keyboard warrior, he retorted, “one day even the firmest of breasts will sag, but the beauty of Remsama is eternal. Repent my son. And all will be forgiven.”

Another heathen chimed in, “I agree boobs are overrated. I like Megumin more; I have a body pillow of her and everything.” 

Haruto shook his head in ridicule. He flamed this most vile heathen without mincing words, “Then you, my son, are a lolicon. And should burn in the deepest crevices of hell for all eternity.”

A muffled voice made its way through his door. Luckily spending so much time in his room had focused his senses. He was adept at hearing and piecing together words.

The muffled voice said, “Haruto lunch is ready. Why don’t you come and eat?” That’s right; this obvious otaku was named Haruto, which means to fly/soar. But the dreams of parents are usually strangled by the reality of their children. He did none of those two things throughout his life. He lazily floated at best, never giving his all unless it was related to video games or anime. 

“Hmph, I don’t need it. I have lunch right here,” Haruto smugly said to himself, effectively ignoring the voice as if it were the devil’s temptations. Still wallowing in self-approval, Haruto lifted a cup of ramen and took a gulp. The sludge attacked his taste buds. He spat it back out instantly, almost vomiting from the pungent and deep taste.

 What the hell, how long has this been in here? He looked at the expiration date. It went bad two weeks ago. Hm, maybe I should clean my room when I’m free. While retching, Haruto pulled out a blank schedule planner that he was too lazy to write anything on. Hm, I can’t seem to find a time where I’m free, I’m just too busy to clean my room. Oh well, the Rem manifesto must wait until after dinner, I suppose. Before logging off, Hartuto typed, “join me tonight for my 100-page analysis on why Emilia is the antichrist.”

 As Haruto ripped open his door, a smell wafted throughout the small home that instantly notified everyone of his departure from his domain. 

Sluggishly he walked towards the kitchen, but his natural nemesis, the sun was pounding incessantly upon him no matter where he went. Haruto thought out loud to himself, “what fool left these blinds open don’t they know people here have a rare sun disease. If I get hit anymore, I might burst into flames, before even making it to get food.”

 Pushing Haruto rudely aside, his little brother Aito, which also means to fly, gave him a puppy dog face. In a pure free of sarcasm tone, Aito pleaded, “please onii chan quickly burn so that we can have one less freeloader in the world.” 

 Haruto had never considered himself an overachiever, but in his opinion, freeloader was taking things a bit too far. Haruto was in his last year of high school and had all Bs. All Bs! Yes, he skipped a lot, and yes, they were barely Bs supported mostly by his teacher’s generosity. But if Cs are passing. That must mean Bs are beyond passing. As for those dumb tryhards who think in the real world someone would care they had a whole A in high school. Haruto could only laugh at their ignorance. 

When asked by his supposed busybody Teacher, who was the sole reason he remained at a B. “why did he skip so much?”

He deflected and hid behind sarcasm, “is there a prize for perfect attendance, do I get some money?”

 His teacher light-heartedly, responded, “well, no, but your grades may be affected if you skip too much.” 

Haruto sarcastically rebutted, “Weird I appear to have all Bs. Are you suggesting my B will go to C? As a great famous person once said, “Cs get degrees.” 

His teacher pouted, “I’m being serious here. If you had any other home-room teacher, even getting Cs would be a fantasy. I’m not telling you to come every day. I know you, I’m better off trying to get the sun to rise from the west. But at least make an effort to come for the big things like homecoming, prom, and finals.”

Haruto smirked, “Hmph, know me? How could you possibly know someone who is never here? Also, the superior analogy would be you are better off trying to find a boyfriend than getting me to attend.”

A downcast look appeared on his teacher’s face. “Very funny, but I used an idiom, not an analogy. You would know the difference if you attended class. Beneath all that sarcasm you use to mask your insecurities, I know there is a kind and intelligent all be it, nihilistic boy. Who just wants someone to understand him.”

Haruto refused to let up, “Beneath my sarcasm is a second layer of sarcasm. How about this, I will start attending when you get into a steady relationship, and stop playing school counselor. He quit after standing you up, on your second date, remember.” Tsk, that was too far. Haruto opened his mouth to apologize, but his teacher continued as if she didn’t hear him.

His teacher stressed, “You may be missing something essential. Not just grades, what about friends, becoming part of something bigger, figuring out where you belong in life, no one wants to see you go down the wrong path.”

Though Haruto regretted his earlier comment, he was adamant about his views, “I know where I belong. And friends? Those monsters would rip me apart if we happened to be on a deserted island, all Lord Of The Flies style. As soon as high school ends, I assure you, they will disappear like a fart in the wind. Whatever bigger picture you want to show me keep it, not interested, never was, never will be.”

His teacher continued to persuade him, “Haruto, I know how you feel, but trust me. Making friends, getting a girlfriend, and putting yourself out of your comfort zone makes life, especially your youth, worth living. You are so focused on the bad in people that you end up missing the good that includes yourself. You sell yourself short, not even attempting to know your true value.”

Slamming his fist, Haruto snarled, “I don’t want some guidance on how I should live. I won’t be dictated by my supposed peers. I want to live by my own rules, some may call it a waste of time or the wrong decision, but at the end of the day, the person living this life is me. I couldn’t care less about how it makes others feel.” Calming himself down. Haruto looked at the teary-eyed teacher and sighed, “if it’s any consolation, I always made sure to attend when you were the teacher on duty.” With that said, he went home and decided to skip for a bit as a weird feeling grew in his heart. Was it regret, pity, anger? Haruto didn’t know and didn’t plan on finding out. He was a supporter of boys not showing emotion philosophy, even if he figured out the problem no one would care. 

After a week of anime and hentai with a dab of memory repression, Haruto was free of distractions. Now he could live the life of his dreams, no longer forced to reply to the idiocratic false reality propagated by others. Or being heckled by the fools who sold hypocrisy, those who couldn’t live in any other reality but the one restrained by ridiculous norms and society. Since this reality was his poison, he would find a new one to be his cure.

 A black helmet covered his head. Haruto pushed forward in his favorite game, “heroes of darkness 3”. Hearts of Darkness was a popular virtual reality game series that followed a group of heroes as they battled through hell’s creatures, preventing the archdevils of original sin from destroying humanity. As an extreme fan of the series, Haruto knew all the lore, hidden treasures, special missions, and every demon type. 

The creator of the game, Hideaki Sugita, was an extreme otaku who almost mystically appeared on the Virtual Reality scene with the blockbuster franchise. The game was known for the realism offered on increased difficulties, with the hardest modes sporting near life-like NPCs that seemingly made their own decisions that affected the world. The players fell in love with the immersive world Sugita had crafted. The critics raved about the game actually making player choices matter, not just an option 1 or 2 that had plagued most free-choice games. 

In an interview about the final game, Sugita stated, “I am proud and yet sorry to announce that this will be the final installment of the series. This story, like all stories, must come to an end. I thank my go-funders, who paid for this dream to come true. I thank the developers for pushing the bounds of technology. Finally, I thank my fans, who, like me, yearned for a more exciting world. The game has been out on early-access for two months now and has already crushed past installments’ sales. But it was never about the money. For my special fans, the 1% who have beat every game on the greatest difficulty with a 100% completion. There is a hidden reward waiting for you. You have proven yourself so far, and now you stand at the final test. Overcome it, and you will be rewarded beyond your wildest dreams. Good luck. I await the chosen winner.”

 After a year of scouring through every game mode, every online post, and every cup of ramen, Haruto had found the hidden messages. After he breezed through hell mode in a month, Haruto had finally made it into god slayer mode. Finally, he could start the 168-hour grind to beat god-slayer mode, which included the calculations of the time needed to sleep for three hours a day to not affect his skill. Haruto entered the secret message “All Hail Beelzebub, Lord Of Gluttony, Consumer Of Hope, and Devourer of the World” into the console. An option for god slayer mode came into existence. 

Under the description for the mode, the first word was ridiculous; the next few were insane, hopeless, and finally impossible. But Haruto knew what most be done, so he strapped himself in for this long journey, texted his parents that he had come down with cancer and would be unable to attend classes for the next week, and locked his room up tighter than Alcatraz after hoarding the necessities of life: mangas, ramen cups, water, and mountain dew of course. 

After launching the mode, a red screen appeared. Warning the insanity, you will face is not for the faint of heart. Turn back now or face eternal regret. There is no saving, no respawning, and above all, there is no hope.  The texts were followed by the story’s primary villain, Beelzebub, applauding. He vowed in his signature aristocratic voice, “Foolish human for having the audacity to challenge me at my peak, I shall reward you. You will know true fear, true suffering, and true gluttony. From the screams and agony, I shall craft a symphony worthy of your ascension into madness.”