The final sentence of Rise of the Brave echoed in Liam's mind like a bad joke:
"And with one swing of the Holy Sword, the Hero cleaved the Demon King in two—ending the war, and fulfilling the prophecy."
Liam snorted and slammed the book shut. Predictable. So painfully predictable.
He'd spent the whole night reading—well, more like skimming—Rise of the Brave, trying to see if it ever got less cliché. Nope. The noble hero? Check. The dumb prophecy? Check. The over-the-top evil Demon King who monologues as he dies? Double check.
"Twelve hours of my life wasted…" Liam grumbled, tossing the book aside and flopping onto his bed. "If I was the Demon King, I'd at least die with style."
His eyelids fluttered closed. Darkness crept in… then vanished.
Liam shot upright.
He wasn't in his bedroom.
The room was huge and cold. Velvet curtains, gold-encrusted walls, and the thick scent of burning incense filled the air. His hands—his hands?—were no longer his.
Huge, clawed, shimmering like black obsidian.
His reflection in a nearby mirror nearly made him puke.
Two glowing crimson eyes stared back at him. Horns curled from his temples. A black crown hovered just above his head, humming with ominous power.
Liam staggered back, heart pounding.
"No… no no no no no."
He touched his face, his claws, his horns. This was no dream.
He was the Demon King.
His mind raced. The villain from the book. The doomed monster everyone hated.
Suddenly, a soft knock.
A maid entered, kneeling, her mouth sewn shut but tears of glowing blue streaming down her cheeks.
"Y-Your Majesty," she whispered. "The human army has crossed the Black Ridge. The Hero leads them. They say the Prophecy ends tonight."
Liam's chest tightened.
Prophecy.
Hero.
Ends tonight.
He slammed the door and leaned against it, trying to steady his breathing.
"Okay. Okay. I read this. I know this. The Demon King dies in chapter 63. I'm in chapter… what?"
He grabbed the nearest spellbook. The date on the page confirmed it: Chapter 60.
Three chapters until his death.
"Oh hell no."
This wasn't a story anymore. It was survival.
If fate wanted him dead, Liam would rewrite the damn script.
He flexed his claws, a strange power humming through his veins.
"Time to level up."