"What the fucking shit?"
Cyrus's face twisted in disgust as his fingers kept scrolling.
[No new chapter.]
[Back!]
The novel he had just finished popped up on his screen.
On the cover was a handsome white-haired man with blue eyes holding a legendary shield.
It was a well made cover.
Title: How to Survive as a D-Grade Talent!
A webnovel currently trending the market. Over a million collections.
Thousands of positive reviews.
"I can't believe there are thousands of brain-dead creatures disguised as humans. How come no one notices these aliens?"
Without a second thought, he removed the novel from his library.
He'd had enough.
The whole story was nothing but empty words glorifying the protagonist. Endless face-slapping, courting death, a brainless harem, golden fingers and plot armor stacked on top of each other.
That summed up the entire novel.
But the reason he kept reading until the latest chapter was but for one character: Cyrus Volford.
The main antagonist.
He thought he was cool, maybe partly because they shared the same name, but he felt a connection. Every time the protagonist won, it frustrated him. Every time Cyrus achieved something, it made him happy.
It got to the point where he skimmed the main story just to wait for Cyrus's parts. Those were the only parts he cared about.
But today was the end of his joy and the end of his reason for reading.
Cyrus had finally been slain by the protagonist.
Frustrated.
Dissatisfied.
But what could he do?
There was no one like him. In the comments everyone was cheering on his death and even swearing at Cyrus.
"Knowing this was coming, why did I even keept reading?" he sighed, turning off his phone.
Three thousand chapters of a journey over, and he just felt empty.
To clear his head, he decided to go for a walk.
He put on his shoes, grabbed his jacket, and opened the door. Fresh air and bright sunlight hit his face.
His eyes, used to the dark room and screen, took a few minutes to adjust. But when they did, a small calm settled over him.
Surprisingly, he felt a little better.
"Maybe sunlight really boosts your serotonin, huh?" he muttered.
He resumed his walk.
Unnoticed by him, his phone screen briefly flashed the cover of the novel he had just removed from library, even opening a random third chapter.
He kept walking, taking a left turn toward the nearest park.
But as he turned, a speeding truck came straight at him. His heart skipped a beat. Survival instinct kicked in, and he leapt forward, somehow dodging it.
Huffing, his eyes followed the truck as it drove off like nothing had happened.
"That was close. Is that bastard drunk? Tsk, I should have noted the truck's number."
He was shaken after coming so close to death. Trying to calm his breath, he checked his phone. The screen showed the novel's third chapter.
"Weird. I even removed it from my library and history. Why is it still on the screen?"
That's when it hit him. The way the protagonist had entered the novel's world, it was because Truck-kun had isekai'd him. Not just him but many protagonists from other novels.
"Is it after me now because I swore at his dear protagonist?"
No.
"I don't want to get isekai'd. It's just momentary emptiness. I'm doing fine in my world," he muttered, deciding to run back to his apartment.
He wasn't sure about his conclusion, but prevention was better than cure.
Running, he took the same route back, only for another truck, this one without honking, to come straight at him.
Again he dodged, rolling to the other side.
"Close call. But now I'm sure of it."
With his doubts confirmed, he couldn't be careless anymore. He slowed his pace and started taking the alleyways.
It was time to cross another road. He peeked first to make sure it was safe. No cars, only a few two-wheelers. He began to cross.
Then he felt a wave of wind hitting his face. His instincts screamed something fast was closing in. Without even looking, he ran for the other side.
Breathing heavily from all the running, he glanced back, but there was nothing.
"That's weird. I'm sure there was something," he muttered, replaying the moment in his head.
Then a stick striking the ground made him turn. It was an old lady, maybe over eighty. She looked like she could drop dead any moment and was struggling to cross the road.
He wasn't the kind of guy who went out of his way to help others, and in a situation like this it was even more true.
But at that moment a weird feeling hit him. A memory from his childhood surfaced. When he was little, his grandmother used to walk beside him and help him cross the road. One time, a speeding truck came at them and to save him, she had pushed him away, sacrificing herself.
There was guilt buried in his heart.
"No, I can't afford to help anyone in this situation," he muttered. But finally he sighed and made sure there was no truck in sight.
He extended his hand toward the grandpa. "Here, I'll help you cross the road."
"Oh, you will? And here I thought chivalry was dead," the grandma laughed, expressing her gratitude.
They began to cross, Cyrus holding the old woman's arm to support her.
Everything seemed fine. Bikers and cars gave them space to cross.
'Thank god. Maybe I was just overthinking it,' he thought. But before the thought could end, the wind hit on his face and that same feeling returned.
No. He had to run.
But leave the grandma in the middle of the road?
'Fuck her. She's already lived her share. I'm a young man with dreams,'
But…
He couldn't move.
The arm he was holding wasn't being held anymore. The grandma had grabbed him instead, holding tight. Even with all his strength, he couldn't pull free.
"Grandma?"
"And I thought you were chivalrous,"
A smirk spread across the old woman's face. "Stay put, child. Because of you, I have to work even after retirement as a truck driver."
What?
"Fucking old hag!"
Before he could make sense of it, a speeding truck slammed into both of them, sending them flying.