"Haa… So now I'm Arthur Glaiz."
The words felt like ash on my tongue. A name that once belonged to a third-rate villain, now mine. A character so inconsequential he barely had any screen time before dying at the hands of the protagonist. In the game, Arthur was nothing more than an annoyance—a jealous, bitter stepping stone.
But now I am him.
I let out a low breath and looked down at my trembling hands. Thin. Pale. Calloused from training, but still frail. These weren't the hands of a hero. They were the hands of a man who clawed desperately for strength... and lost.
Arthur Glaiz was pitiful. He was weak. He dreamed of power, and when the Demon whispered in his ear, offering strength in exchange for his soul, he jumped at the chance. That deal was the beginning of the end—his end.
But now that soul was mine.
A sudden, sharp pain pierced my head like a hot needle being driven into my skull.
"Agh—!"
I staggered, clutching my temple. Images—no, memories—flooded in, uninvited and relentless.
A burning house. Screams. A small girl reaching out, her voice lost in the roar of flames. Blood. Smoke. Laughter—cold, demonic laughter.
And then silence.
"My god… these are Arthur's memories."
Not just any memories—his pain.
His mother, father, and younger sister, slaughtered in front of him during a demon raid. The kind of grief that doesn't fade with time. The kind that carves itself into your bones.
After that, Arthur had only one purpose: revenge.
He trained obsessively, day and night, hoping to one day become strong enough to fight back. And when his mana finally awakened, it must have felt like a gift from the heavens.
He joined Nexus Hunter Academy, the most prestigious training ground for humanity's future protectors. A place where dreams were forged… or shattered.
And Arthur's? His dream was crushed mercilessly.
Despite all his training, despite all his pain, he was still weak. His peers mocked him, beat him, broke him. Every wound on his body was matched by one on his soul.
I sat in stunned silence, my chest tight with something I couldn't quite define.
"...I had no idea."
How could I? In the game, Arthur's past was never shown. To the players, he was just a stepping stone, a bitter rival with a temper. No depth. No humanity.
But now that I've seen it, I can't ignore it.
"I always thought Arthur was just a pathetic, jealous bastard… Guess I was wrong."
He wasn't evil. He was just… broken.
And now I'm the one wearing his face.
I let out a long breath and stood up. "Haa… this is really exhausting."
But there's no point in dwelling on the past. I'm here now. I've been given this life—his life. If I'm going to survive in this world, I have to start somewhere.
"Status Window."
A familiar chime rang in my ears, and a translucent blue panel appeared before me, suspended in the air.
Name: Arthur Glaiz
Class: Swordsman
Talent: 25
Attribute: Locked
Strength: 12
Speed: 14
Dexterity: 12
Perception: 13
Mana: 10
Passive Skill: Perfect Poker
Active Skill: Dash
Arts:
Basic Sword Style (Common Grade)
Basic Non-Armed Combat Style (Common Grade)
My eyes swept over the stats, and the further I read, the more my stomach sank.
"This… This is why he was always weak."
The numbers were dreadful. Even fresh Academy recruits averaged 20 in their base stats. Arthur barely scratched the teens. Worse still—his Talent stat.
Talent wasn't just a number. It was the upper limit, the hard cap. No matter how hard Arthur trained, no stat could ever exceed 25.
"That's it, then. That's the ceiling he hit… and why he fell."
The revelation hit like a punch to the gut. He wasn't just weak—he was doomed from the start. Born with limits in a world that punished the weak.
I shook my head, eyes narrowing.
"No… Not anymore."
My gaze returned to the screen, locking onto his Passive Skill: Perfect Poker.
[An ability to maintain rationality in any situation. Shows great immunity to mind control and brainwash-class curses.]
A rare gem buried under a pile of garbage.
"Huh… now this is interesting."
This skill was absurdly useful. In a world teeming with mental-type monsters, psychic spells, and demonic curses, Perfect Poker was a literal life-saver. A passive mental fortress. And I now had it.
Next, I noticed the "Attribute: Locked" section.
"In the game, Arthur never used magic… only the sword. But what if he simply didn't know how to unlock his attribute?"
A dangerous idea sparked in my mind.
"If I unlock it… I might gain an affinity. Hell, maybe more than one."
It wouldn't be easy. His low mana pool was a serious bottleneck. At just 10, it would probably be drained after a single use of Dash. But unlike Arthur, I know things. I know where to look, who to avoid, how the system works.
"This is salvageable."
Even the arts—basic sword and hand-to-hand styles—weren't nothing. With the right physical conditioning and creativity, they could be used to their fullest potential.
Arthur may have been abandoned by fate… but fate isn't in charge anymore.
"I won't die like some idiot villain in the background of someone else's story."
I looked at my frail body. Skin clung to bone, my muscles atrophied from constant beatings and poor nutrition. A single punch from a proper trainee could knock me out cold.
"First things first—this body. I need to rebuild it from the ground up."
I already had a plan.
Fortunately, today was Friday. Classes wouldn't resume until Monday, which meant I had three days.
Three days to stop being Arthur Glaiz, the pitiful villain… and become something more.
Time to move.
I threw on my uniform jacket, slipping my status screen away with a thought. My mind was already racing with possibilities—places I needed to go, items I needed to find.
"This world abandoned Arthur… but I'm not Arthur."
I stepped outside into the cold light of dusk.
"I'm the one rewriting this story now."