[??? POV]
[W-where am I?]
The pain in my head intensifies as time passes, and the whispering, glitching sound becomes more pronounced. In the blink of an eye, all these memories that aren't mine rush into my head, and I'm watching them unfold. Overwhelmed, I let out another scream, a mixture of confusion and fear filling the room.
As the memories continued to flood my mind, they brought with them a disorienting mix of flashbacks and glitched fragments of conversation. I felt like I was caught in a swirling vortex of time and identity.
In one fleeting moment, I found myself in a warmly lit room, engaged in an animated conversation. The voices around me were distorted, as if emanating from a malfunctioning radio. I felt a deep sense of closeness with someone, their voice radiating warmth and affection. "œӘ´¢ıæ, y̴͇̹̬̣̿̆͊o̴̩͙̩̰͐̚ủ̶̲͚͕̬̪'̷̼͎̦͚́͊v̷̧͍͚̬͈̩̈́̏ě̶͕͎̔̒̅͘̚ ̵̳̙̯͒́͝ͅa̶̤̞̲̟̓̀̀͠͝l̷̡̑̇̅̍͠ẅ̴̥̹̬́̉͜͠a̸̼̹͈̠̔̑̐̏y̷̭̣͈̳̙͋͊̀̏̎͠s̵̥̤̿̿ ̸̡̛̠̙͑͑̾b̷̡̖̺̩̹͐́́̍̂͜e̸̲̻͎̻̻͑͒̋͒͂e̴͐ͅn̴͖̖̟̞̞̞̎͛̇̐̕ ̸̧̭̼̰̠̹̀m̵̯͈̻̠̖͌́̒̍̔ý̵̤͖̣͚͜ͅ ̶͓̥̜̊̂̾̐̾r̴̭̙̪͔̙͛̈́̾̾̾̓o̷̧͌̈͝c̴̮̹̻̈́̀͌̅͠k̸̡̢̗̮͉̭̈́," she said, her words appearing like an unreadable glitch my mind.
Another voice, soft and gentle, belonged to an older woman who spoke with heartfelt sincerity. Her words were filled with warmth and emotion as she expressed her deep love for someone. "M̴̰̳̏͝y̵̧͈̦̮̓́̋͌ ̷̛͉̣̳̌́͂d̷̤̟̼̅̽̀͒ḙ̴̉̽̃a̵̰̾̕͝ṟ̴̳̪́̋ ̵̬̂̾̿s̷̥̟̹̽̈o̷͇͑͌n̵͎̬͓͒ͅ,̶̘͖̔̈̓͠" she said, her voice quivering with tenderness, "̷̰̝̰͒̿͒Î̵̱̤͈̀͝ ̸͖̀t̷̞̱̭̓r̷̼͉̆͜ụ̶̂l̶̨̰̒y̵̻̻͎̔̈ ̸̛̳͔̲̂͘c̴̲͕͝h̶̡̫͂e̴͎͎̽̀͆r̸̮̤͝i̶̗͋̕͠s̶̨̱̰͝h̸̩̟̽̃̕ ̷̟͘͝e̸̱͑v̶̹͍̦̈̌ë̴͇́ȓ̵̠ŷ̸̦̄͝ ̸̞͈̼͛̿̍d̷̝͍͓̋a̸̬̹͆͜y̶̠͊̈́ ̴̗͝͝͝s̴̗͍̻̀́ȉ̵̤̭̘̀͋n̷̛̩͙̥c̴̟̟͐͆͐ė̸̡̗͜ ̶͉͕̲̏y̵͇͇̓o̶̞͈̤͐̆̋ú̵̡͖̖ ̴̠̈́̇͂c̶̬̬͍̈́̂̈́a̷̘̼̍̃m̸̯͝ė̷̫͓̺͒̂ ̶̛̪i̸̱̣͈͂ǹ̵͎͆̂ť̴̩͖̪̈͛ö̷͈̞́̑͜ ̵̮͉̀̓͛t̵̖͆̆̆h̵̗͋į̵͈͗͑͊ş̸̞̐̚͠ ̷̺̕w̴͔͙̹͋̒ō̵̺̩̋r̷̭̞͔̉̓ḷ̸̟͕͛ḑ̸̤̭̈́̈́.̵̨̥̻̿ ̷̹̮̩̑̑̈́Y̴̞̐́ő̶͕̑̎u̶̟̳͈̒̓̂'̵̝̮̊̅r̴͔̼̓̍̉e̶͈͛̚ ̸̻̎m̴̞̌̿̄y̶̼͖͆͂͝ ̵̪̥̳̅̈̕ğ̵̲̫̋ů̷̮͉͊ḯ̴̘d̶̡̯̀̋͘î̷̘͐̄n̸̡͚͎͑̉͝g̴̰̅͐̿ ̵̡̮͔͑̀̈́l̴̝̞̣͆̌͝i̵̗̖͒̓g̷̰̻͗h̴̝̤̋̕͠t̸́̊̚ͅ ̷̠̝͠i̸͔̫͓͗́n̴̩̋ ̷̛̮̈́͑t̵̫̠̠̀̈́h̴̳͊͋ǐ̴̢̞̕s̸̠̒͠ ̶̢̲̜͂̽̕b̶̟̤̌͂̽e̵̟͈͝a̸̝̻͑ü̶̱̹͠t̸̗͈͕̂̑į̷̿͆͠f̸̺͎̗͑ú̷͔̐l̷̗͌̈́ ̶̣̈͑ẁ̸̝͂o̷̙̖̓r̶̼͗l̸̨̜̉̓d̸̫̏̽͠,̷͊ͅ ̵̫̂̋̈ṃ̸̃̆ỹ̷̻ ̶̼̂͌d̷̜͗̒e̵̮̯͑͠a̶̡̛͍̫r̴̹̲̣̽͛.̴̟͎̮͆͒"̶͍̀
As I witnessed this tender memory unfold before me, a profound realization washed over me like a wave. The voice I had been hearing, the deep love and affection it carried, was directed at me. My eyes welled up with tears, and my heart ached with a mixture of joy and longing.
The memory became increasingly vivid, as if the past was coming to life. I saw the older woman's face, her eyes filled with adoration as she gazed at me, her son. I realized that this was my mother, and the love in her eyes was a testament to the bond we shared.
And then, there was another figure in the memory, a young woman who exuded warmth and camaraderie. This was my sister, and her presence added to the depth of the moment. The three of us shared an unbreakable connection, and it was etched in the smiles and laughter we shared.
With each passing moment, the memory grew clearer, and I could feel the warmth of their presence enveloping me. It was a heart-to-heart connection that transcended time and space, and it left me overwhelmed with emotion.
Tears streamed down my cheeks as I watched this precious moment from my past, and I knew that I had discovered a piece of myself that had been lost in the chaos of my fragmented memories.
More and more memories flooded into my head, each becoming clearer as time went on. The pain in my head began to lessen, and amidst the flood of memories, there was one that stood out, different from the tenderness I had experienced earlier.
In this memory, I found myself in darkness, observing someone's determination to become a politician. The figure was shrouded in shadows, and beside me stood another person, whose identity remained obscure.
In that moment, I heard someone speaking with a sense of remorse, my voice heavy with conflicting emotions. "I could have taken revenge," the figure whispered, his tone filled with regret and the weight of unfulfilled vengeance.
But then, a note of hesitation and wisdom crept into the figure's voice, "But I can't, not if it's not what they would want." Beside me, the figure's reflection in the memory remained a silent but steadfast presence. It truly filled me with awe, witnessing such unwavering strength within this person. The memory was a tapestry of emotions—regret, determination, and a profound sense of remorse that was so overwhelming it made me want to crumble.
And then, the pieces of the puzzle fell into place. I realized that the person with the unwavering determination in the darkness was none other than me, and the shadowy figure at my side was my own reflection, my own untapped potential. These memories were not fragments of someone else's life; they were pieces of my own journey and aspirations.
Tears welled up in my eyes, but this time they were tears of revelation and self-discovery. I had found myself amidst the chaos of fragmented memories, and I now knew who I truly was—a determined individual ready to make a difference in the world, guided by a sense of honor and respect for the wishes of someone precious to me.
"I... Who am I?" I asked myself, uncertainty lacing my voice. And in that moment of introspection, there was one final memory that settled the question.
As the memories fell into place, the faces of my mother and sister materialized before me. Their voices echoed in my mind, their love and wishes for me becoming crystal clear. In one last, poignant memory, my mother's voice filled the air, soft but brimming with love and wisdom. Her words etched themselves into the depths of my soul.
"Haruto," she said with gentle clarity, "remember who you are. Carry our love with you always and let it illuminate your path."
In that instance, my sister's voice, Kaya joined in, adding, "You possess strength, Haruto, in ways you've yet to uncover. Make us proud."
As the echoes of their voices faded, a remarkable transformation occurred within me. The pain that had haunted me, the glitches in my existence, all dissolved as if they had never been there. A sense of serenity enveloped me, and a profound realization dawned on my face.
With newfound clarity and an unwavering conviction in my tone, I declared, "I am Tatsumine Haruto."
[Haruto POV]
"Uhh... Khh..." As the pain in my head lessened, I took a deep breath, my senses gradually sharpening. The damp air in the dungeon carried a distinctive musk, a scent that would overwhelm a normal person, but for me, it had become strangely familiar.
"Hah... Hah..." Gasping for air, I noticed the dimly lit dungeon around me. The worn-out rag, still clinging to me, hinted at days long gone, while a deceased rat lay forgotten in the corner. Chains clinked as I shifted, realizing I was bound to this dungeon.
With each steadying breath, the rhythmic pulsating in my head synchronized with the echoes of my own heartbeat. Details of the dungeon revealed themselves— the rusted chain in the corner, accompanied by the skeletal remains of a human, a small piece of rotten meat still clinging to the bone. The somber clang of a cell door echoed through the damp air, mingling with the distant murmur of another person's voice. A flickering candle cast dancing shadows across a weathered hallway, revealing the passage of time in the worn stone.
"I'm alive..." With a raspy voice, my first utterance resonates—simple, yet powerful.
"How... Is another world real? Is the multiverse real?" Confusion, shock, and a hint of relief color my words.
"But... This memory..." The uncertainty hangs heavy in the air, a monologue echoing my inner turmoil.
[I remember my first life, and also this life. It's real, I can feel it—the emotions are so vivid, like, they're blending across both lives.]
"Sorrow, despair, but also a desperate yearning for another glimpse of hope..." I murmur, allowing the words to linger in the air, caught between the echoes of past and present.
"Hah..." I sigh; this version of 'me' in this life is just too tragic, even compared to my past life.
I'm an orphan, deserted by my parents from day one. Living in this so-called orphanage, which is essentially just child labor wearing the mask of an orphanage. My name is as dull as it gets—literally a combination of a month and a number. It's easier for the staff to remember that in that particular month, we're the ones doing odd jobs for them.
When I was 9 years old, the orphanage forced me into even heavier jobs. Eventually, I got kidnapped by gladiators, turning me into a worker slave with even more demanding tasks. To the orphanage, I was just another money maker, and losing one child barely affected the place. The gladiators targeted people without backgrounds, like me, and life for 'me' got even tougher.
But even then, I persisted. I wanted to escape, to have freedom and a life of my own. These thoughts fueled my determination during those years enslaved by the gladiators. In another three years, I attempted to escape countless times. However, being just a child, I inevitably lost each time and faced repeated physical and mental torture.
Maybe this soul was just too tired, and my soul came in, assimilating with me because, in a way, it's another version of 'me.'
[I feel like the protagonist who ended up in another world. But why? All I wanted was peace... Is it too much to ask that?]
The emotions from this life and my past life start to merge, connected by the fact that even in my previous existence, death did not bring a peaceful end. It was a betrayal, a stab in the back from my closest friend, someone I had known for almost my entire life.
"It hurts... It really hurts... sob sob." The sound of sobbing and crying becomes more pronounced, but I don't care. The pain is too much. I feel like if I don't cry, I'll shatter, or maybe I'm already broken, with just a wisp of sanity barely holding me together.
"I'm tired... so tired," I mutter between gasps, weariness shaking my voice. The tears keep coming, a sign of a wound that won't be healing anytime soon.
A bitter laugh slips out amid my tears—a twisted joke on how even hollow laughter is better than confronting this pain head-on. The cell echoes with the aftermath of my cries.
As the sobs fade, leaving only the echoes of my exhausted breaths, a hollow chuckle escapes me again. Unconsciousness claims me, physical and mental exhaustion pulling me into a welcome abyss. A brief respite from the relentless struggle.
.
.
.
(Colosseum - Unknown time)
In the hazy realm between unconsciousness and awareness, I gradually regain my senses. The weight on my shoulders feels lighter, and as my eyelids flutter open, the room comes back into focus. The echoes of my hollow chuckle linger in the air, a fading memory of the overwhelming emotions that had engulfed me.
"Mm... feeling a bit better," I murmur to myself, my voice carrying a newfound steadiness. But even as a sense of relief washes over me, a cautious awareness takes root. "Trust... it'll take time to trust again."
After steadying myself again, I sit up, casting an analytical gaze over the surroundings. The cell and the hallway, once a blurred backdrop to my turmoil, now reveal details previously overlooked. The cell seems unchanged, thankfully, after my breakdown—at least I'm not beaten up again. However, in the hallway across from me, another cell comes into focus. There's a person, or what you might call a person; they're thin as a stick, ribs eerily visible even from here. Of course, the individual is old, but being a slave worker means their years may be younger than their weathered appearance suggests.
"But it's kind of weird. My crying got pretty loud, even if it was just a soft sob. Is it just luck that there are no gladiators around, especially for someone like me who tends to stir up trouble for them? Or did something happen while I was unconscious?"
Haruto senses something strange, but he realizes it's an opportunity to learn more about this world. The memories of this life might be somewhat useless; he doesn't grasp the entire world, but he does know his current location.
"Aridoria, a city of colosseum. If we stretch that a bit, this place might have a resemblance to Ancient Rome in my past life."
It means slavery is legal, and there are no human rights—just like I'm one of the slaves in this place.
"If we throw in the fact that I'm in another world, there's a chance there's magic or at least some kind of power system. The name Aridoria never existed in my past life."
And what do they say about power? Absolute power corrupts people, and there might be ranks among them, like nobles, implying rampant issues of discrimination. The moral behaviors in this world could be even crueler than in my past life. The proof? Myself.
After contemplating a little bit, I need to analyze myself, and the memory of my past life.
"First, let's analyze myself. According to the past life, I'm reincarnated in this body, and, in a sense, I feel like I'm a citizen of this world. There's no awkward change of behavior between my past life and this life—'I' have the same behavior. But then the question is, why me? Is there another purpose for me to awaken my past life memory?"
"Second, where am I? I'm aware I'm a slave, and in Aridoria, but the name of the continent or the world eludes me. This is my only opportunity, with no gladiators around. I should approach someone in another cell to gain a general knowledge about the world. Conveniently, there is another person across from my cell—well, assuming my chain around the neck can be released."
"Third, magic is real here. Considering my strange experiences, which were truly mystical, my lack of knowledge—being just an orphan—contrasts with my past life, where I had references to magic in a form of fiction, making me certain that magic is real in this world."
"Fourth, the past me was incredibly smart, and maybe that's why I'm more clear-headed now. It profoundly influences me, especially emotionally—during breakdowns or when I struggle to trust people. It seems like our souls are assimilating and becoming one. Sure, my past life's soul might be so strong that it's literally affecting me as a whole, but at least, this is still 'me'."
"Fifth, reading and language. It's the essence of communication. Without it, I can't gather information. When I was an orphan, I barely had any knowledge of speaking, and reading was out of the question. But if the language on this continent has a resemblance to English or perhaps another language from my past life, there's a chance I can decipher it."
In the midst of contemplation, footsteps echo. Haruto falls silent, closing his eyes. The footsteps grow louder. He relaxes his body, steadying his breath, lowering his heartbeat pulse, adopting the facade of someone asleep—a tactic learned from his past life as a politician, a skill to deceive traitors attempting to harm or extract critical information.
At the thought of traitors, Haruto's heartbeat quickens briefly, a pang of pain accompanying it. Yet, he steadies his pulse.
[It really hurts, huh...] he muses internally.
The sound grows louder, and as a certain distance is established between them and Haruto, a girl's voice becomes audible. The voice carries a hint of pain. Following her voice, the cell gate opens, and Haruto can discern that the cell being opened is indeed his.
[Lucky, I don't need to ask a general knowledge from the person across my cell.]
"Huh, this brat is still out, huh... Hey, fallen girl, welcome to your new cell. Let's just say you'll be having some fun with him." The gladiators chuckle, and, of course, that chuckle carries a mirthful, sarcastic tone.
[Fortunately, the language sounds like English, but the accent has a touch of old English, yet still modern. It seems there's a plan involving me and the girl in front of me.]
"...." The girl remained silent. Her breaths were audible, carrying a hint of frustration and exhaustion.
[I can hear her heartbeat; it's really loud. What the hell happened to this girl?]
The sounds drew nearer until, beside Haruto, the clinking of chains reached his ears. He caught a gasp from the girl. After a moment, a click of the lock followed, and the rhythmic sound of her breathing became clear beside him.
"Well, look at you two, lying there like a couple of useless sacks. Enjoy your cozy little shack, slaves!" the gladiator jeers, a cruel smirk on his face. "You think your lives mean a damn thing? Ha! You're just here to entertain and serve, nothing more."
Haruto remains calm; he recognizes this as mere pride. It's that superiority complex he's seen before, back in his past life. Politicians, he knows, often cling to their vanity and pride like a demon holding onto its sins. They stick to it until the bitter end, only realizing it was too late to change once their lives got destroyed.
"Ain't life grand for you two?" the gladiator sneers, pacing around the cell. "Two sorry souls shackled by fate, thinking you're something special. Well, newsflash, you're just toys for the powerful. Fun little tools for their amusement."
Haruto, still pretending to be unconscious, keeps his heartbeat steady, mimicking the rhythm of a sleeping person. The girl beside him remains silent, her breaths providing a rhythmic counterpoint to the gladiator's taunts.
The gladiator then realizes that his taunts aren't effective; the girl remains unresponsive. His pride takes a hit, triggering rage. He desires to punish the girl, maybe even have fun with her, but he restrains that urge because the warden explicitly stated not to touch either the girl or the boy.
"Cih... You're no fun, unlike the brat beside you. He's more lively, the kind of person wardens seem to favor. Well," he sneers, "you'll regret being this boring, girlie."
After that, the cell door creaks shut, and the gladiators' footsteps gradually fade into silence. Soon, all that remains is the sound of my steady heartbeat and the girl's rhythmic breathing within the confines of this cell.
Haruto slowly opens his eyes, the feigned unconsciousness slipping away. He glances towards the girl beside him, and though it seems like a mere coincidence, their eyes lock in a shared moment.
[Amethyst, pretty....] Haruto contemplates as he observes the girl.
Standing at a petite height, she wears tattered and worn clothes, evidence of the harsh life they share. Her skin, despite the circumstances, maintains a subtle paleness. However, it's the striking contrast of her short crimson hair that draws attention, tangled and unkempt from the struggles they've endured. The girl's eyes, the most captivating feature, possess a deep shade of purple, reminiscent of amethyst, adding depth to her gaze. Despite the grime and dirt clinging to her clothes, there's a resilience in her demeanor that refuses to be overshadowed by their dire situation.
-
-
[I'm truly in another world; those eyes and that hair are incredibly rare in my past life.]
After locking eyes for a moment, the girl shifts her gaze back towards the cell door. Haruto follows suit, turning his attention to the door, his mind contemplating the uncertain future and the purpose why he is here.
[When I look at myself before, I never really pondered about my purpose in this world. I mean, it's like a second life—with past knowledge and experiences, I should have a better chance to have a better life]
While one could argue that my past life was fulfilling—becoming a leader in the region, a renowned politician fighting for citizen welfare, and quite wealthy too, given the perks of the political trade. But then...
[Was I truly happy in that life?]
Haruto knows the answer; whether in this life or the one before, it's crystal clear, especially now that his soul and his past life's soul have merged.
[I wasn't happy at all... After what happened to my family, all attachment to that world nearly vanished, and the one who held me...]
Haruto's expression turns colder, his eyes simmering with barely restrained rage, and his fists clench so hard they draw blood. After this, Haruto takes a deep breath and exhales with a long, heavy sigh.
[Then what is my purpose for surviving in this world? There is no family here, death is too common, especially in a place that could be the European Middle Ages, or, if the technology is quite advanced, the Renaissance era.]
His eyes dim slightly as he thinks those words. Haruto takes another glance at the girl beside him. She sits there quietly, resembling a doll, yet Haruto can discern the emotions in her eyes.
Determination, desperation for hope, and a passion to do anything to escape this dungeon.
[This girl is still don't give up, why is it? what motivates her?]
Haruto, contemplating the situation, furrows his brows before deciding to break the silence. "So, we're stuck in this cell together. Not exactly a coincidence, is it?" he muses, more to himself than to the girl.
Her gaze remains fixed on the cell door, providing no indication of acknowledgment.
"I won't bother introducing myself because trust doesn't come easy in a place like this," Haruto continues, his eyes scanning their surroundings. "Those gladiators that came earlier, they've got a plan, and I'm pretty sure it involves us. Maybe the warden, the one torturing me, is the mastermind behind all this."
The girl's silence persists, but Haruto presses forward. "Look, I don't trust you, and you probably don't trust me either. We each have our own story, and I get that. But let me tell you this—I can see it in your eyes. They still burn with hope and desperation. You want to escape from this place, right? Even if it means you lose a limb or even die trying. You just want to try everything right?"
After that, despite the girl maintaining a flat expression, Haruto can see it. Her amethyst eyes are wavering.
Haruto, sensing an opening, decides it's time to push. "Honestly, right now, I don't have a purpose to live. I don't have a family, I don't have anything, so why should I bother surviving in this world? I just feel tired." Even Haruto wants to persuade this girl, he knows he just venting his feeling right now.
[If I don't have a purpose right now, at least I'll help this girl reach hers.]
This is what Haruto thinks as he talks to the girl. He's aware that this is dangerous ground. A man without purpose is like a life without destination.
After contemplating this for a moment, Haruto realizes that the girl has turned to face him. With a calm and steady gaze, he looks into her amethyst eyes.
Noir looks at Zero with more skeptical and suspicious eyes, then a brief sigh escapes from her mouth. After that, she nods, a sign that Zero interprets as understanding.
"....Aetheria," Noir murmured, her voice barely audible, yet Zero caught every word. He contemplated asking for more details, but Noir responded with sign language.
(The world we call is Aetheria, and the continent's name is Veridelle, which falls under the Astralis Empire.) She conveyed through her gestures.
"Aetheria... Veridelle... Astralis Empire... Aridoria..." Zero mused, murmuring to himself. His expression furrowed, a clear sign that he was deep in thought.
[Aridoria is like a town, located in the continent of Veridelle, which, in turn, is under the governance of the Astralis Empire. This setup strongly suggests a nobility or feudal system. And as for the world of Aetheria... Have I ever heard of it before?]
Zero takes a moment to reflect on his previous live, seeing it as a valuable asset because of the vast amount of knowledge he can tap into. He understands that even if this world is unfamiliar to him, he can still rely on his understanding of navigating life in another world, or what his past life referred to as 'isekai.' Noir notices his deep thoughts and chooses not to interrupt him, shifting her focus back to the cell gate.
Just as Noir seems to detach from the world, not fully asleep but lost in deep thoughts, Zero's face turns serious and troubled. Out of nowhere, he blurts out, "Fu*k." This sudden outburst catches Noir off guard, making her look at him. Zero, now a little flustered, takes a deep breath, his mind filled with racing thoughts and concerns.
[There's absolutely no chance I've been reincarnated in this world, right?]
Zero is somewhat familiar with this world, at least from the glimpses he got when he was still in 'college,' as my past life called it—a level of education. Regardless, that's not the crucial matter now.
.
.
.
"Haruto, please help me..." Haruto then sees Takaya in his usual geeky outfit, noticing his distressed expression. But Haruto recognizes this as his typical exaggerated scenario, where everything is blown out of proportion. Before he can even complete his musings...
"Please, help me, Harutoo... I need you to complete this game," Takaya pleads with his usual coquettish tone, shaking Haruto's body with his hands.
Haruto, with a disgusted expression, retorted, "Let me go, you fool." Takaya, unfazed, tightened his hold on Haruto and adopted an even more playful, sweet, and sickening tone, saying, "Nee... Help me, Haruto. I need your strategic brain."
Following this, Takaya suddenly winces in pain, clutching his stomach. Haruto, having delivered a swift kick, looks at Takaya with a mix of frustration and amusement.
"Tch, you're really overdoing it this time," Haruto comments, shaking his head.
Coughing but still managing a laugh, Takaya quips, "Ah, my friend, you're too dramatic."
Haruto, maintaining a stern expression, warns, "Seriously, don't push it or you'll get more kicks."
Takaya, still chuckling, waves off the warning, fully aware that he might provoke Haruto again. Haruto sighs in response, realizing this is a cycle he's accustomed to. In an attempt to change the topic, he casually asks, "So, what game are you playing this time?"
Takaya, suddenly excited, launches into an enthusiastic speech about the game he's obsessed with—a visual novel infused with tactical RPG elements. "Hey Haruto, listen up! This game is a must-try, trust me. It's not your average visual novel—it's got tactical RPG at its core, something that will totally captivate you!"
Haruto, leaning back, gazes at Takaya with a doubtful expression. "I know that you are not fan into this genre. What's gotten into you?"
Unfazed, Takaya continues with even more passion. "Well, this game is different, I swear. The artwork is like a masterpiece, the music is pumping, and the story, oh my god, it's mind-blowing. And here's the kicker—it's a fusion of Visual Novel and Tactical RPG, usually reserved for solo experiences. But guess what? This one's multiplayer right from the start. You can team up, borrow units from other players, or assist them in conquering story stages. It's not your typical gacha system either. You can assemble a party, engage in battles like it's a full-blown war—literally, a war against other players."
After Takaya's enthusiastic description of the game's overall appeal, Haruto, now more intrigued, probes further. "Okay, so you've got me curious. What's the story? You said it's great, right?"
Takaya, brimming with excitement, begins, "It's the classic hero's journey, man! The protagonist and their party embark on a quest to save the world. The narrative is just top-notch."
Haruto, raising an eyebrow, comments, "Classic hero's journey? Saving the world? That sounds pretty cliché. Anything unique?"
Takaya, grinning, responds, "Well, not all the party members are women, but yeah, the majority. And yes, it's a harem. The hero powers up by doing 'that' and can copy the powers of his party members."
Haruto, deadpan, looks at Takaya. "Your taste in stories is really trash, isn't it?"
Takaya noticed that Haruto's expression darkened and quickly interjected. "Wait, wait! I know you're not a fan of harems, being a pure love supremacist and all, and I get it. I was on the same page. But, my friend, here's the kicker—both I and countless other players were genuinely surprised. This game went global! Everyone got hooked because of the unexpected twist. Turns out, those clichés were just a smokescreen, hiding what's really happening. The story evolved into something more engaging, unpredictable, and, well, it's kind of a phenomenon now."
Haruto, maintaining a hint of skepticism, raises an eyebrow. "A twist, huh? I've heard that before. Still not interested in playing."
Takaya, undeterred, aims to sway Haruto, "Okay, how about this? You don't have to play through the story, but your tactical prowess could be a game-changer for me. Help me with the gameplay—strategize, plan, all that tactical stuff. I won't force you into harem visual novel territory, I promise."
After a moment of contemplation, Haruto finally relents, "Fine, I'll help you with the gameplay, but that's where I draw the line." Takaya, brimming with excitement, cheers, "Yahoo! This is gonna be great. Can't wait to dive into the next chapter!"
Haruto let out a tired sigh, clearly accustomed to his friend's lively nature. Despite the weariness, a small, fleeting smile crossed his face. Swiftly, he returned to his usual calm and stoic expression, a master of maintaining composure.
With a casual yet inquisitive tone, he asked, "What's the name of the game we're playing?"
.
.
.
After that memory, Zero murmured the name of the game, "The Journey of the Guardian Heroes."
A world with a setting where the morality of humans is at its lowest.
A world where power scaling is to the extent that a single human can obliterate a mountain.
A world where the inevitable conclusion is... the destruction of humanity itself.
His expression darkened, and frustration boiled within him. Zero couldn't help but swear again, "Fu*k."
In the midst of his expletive-laden outburst, Zero noticed Noir's expression becoming peculiar. Her reaction to his swearing registered, but Zero, indifferent to her discomfort, carried on with his train of thought, finding a fleeting moment of morbid inspiration,
[Oh, I’m Really F*cked, Aren’t I?]
Glad you are back.
Love the episode.