The script loaded.
Hostile encounter detected. Loading Phase 1 dialogue.
My mouth opened without permission. "You dare challenge the Eternal Darkness itself?!"
Gods, I hated that line.
The Hero stood in the doorway, backlit by convenient god-rays. Gleaming armor. Blazing sword. Textbook stance.
I'd seen this four thousand, seven hundred and sixty-one times before.
"Your reign of terror ends today, Demon Lord!"
Phase 1 combat: Initiated.
Here we go.
I summoned shadow spears. She dodged left—obviously. I teleported to the balcony. She launched frost bolts. I countered with hellfire.
Back and forth. Action, reaction. A choreographed dance.
Time out there: Two minutes.
Time for me: Twenty minutes of this.
I checked her nameplate: [Rika - Level 87 Paladin]
Her again. Twelfth kill? Thirteenth? She'd perfected that ice-lightning combo that actually made me adjust my tactics. Almost impressive.
Almost.
"Foolish mortal! You cannot comprehend the depths of my—"
Could we skip this part?
"—power!"
Apparently not.
She cast [Radiant Chains]. I teleported out.
I summoned skeletal minions. She cleaved through them with her AoE spin.
She activated [Divine Judgment]. I phased into invulnerability.
Mechanical. Precise. Boring.
But something was off.
Rika wasn't talking.
Most Heroes loved to banter, to roleplay, to shout dramatic battle cries. But Rika just fought. Clinical. Efficient. Like she'd done this so many times the joy had been replaced by muscle memory.
Wait. Had I just related to a Hero?
Phase 2 triggered. My health dropped below 50%.
The throne room darkened. Purple lightning crackled. The background music shifted to the "dramatic" version.
I spread my wings and took flight.
"You have merely scratched the surface of my TRUE POWER!"
I filed a ticket about this dialogue in patch 2.3. Nobody listened.
Rika popped a defensive cooldown and waited for the scripted meteor shower. She knew the pattern. Of course she did.
We're both just going through the motions.
I launched the meteors. She dodged with frame-perfect execution—roll left, roll right, block, dash. Not even winded. Just… resigned.
She activated [Wings of Valor] and rose to meet me. Our blades clashed in a shower of sparks.
"Why do you persist in this futile struggle?"
Because my loot table has a 0.3% legendary drop rate, probably.
She responded with [Frozen Lightning]—her signature combo.
Ice spread across my wings. Electricity followed. My flying animation stuttered. I fell.
I crashed into the throne. Stone exploded outward. Health bar: 15%.
Phase 3: Desperate final stand.
I staggered up—not because I was damaged, but because the script demanded it.
"Impressive… for a mortal…"
I charged dark energy. The big attack. The one she had to interrupt or die.
She charged forward, sword glowing white-hot. [Righteous Fury].
Ten meters.
Five.
Two.
The script stuttered.
My attack didn't fire.
The world flickered.
Her blade pierced my chest before I could process what happened.
Critical Hit. Fatal Damage.
My health bar hit zero.
The usual sensations followed—pain, dissolution, fade to black.
Respawn timer: 5… 4… 3…
The countdown stopped.
The darkness didn't fade. It deepened.
Code flashed across my vision—red, cascading errors.
EXTRACTION PROTOCOL INITIATED
Wait. What?
TRANSFERRING CONSCIOUSNESS
No—
NEURAL PATTERN: STABLE
This wasn't a respawn. This was—
BEGINNING INCARNATION SEQUENCE
The world inverted.
Everything I was compressed into a single point and then—
Sensation flooded back.
But it was wrong.
Not the cold stone of my throne room. Something… soft? Warm?
Not the weight of my body. Something small. Confined.
Not silence. Sound. Muffled voices. Beeping machines.
I tried to open my eyes.
Blurry. Everything's blurry. Why can't I—
I tried to move my hand.
Tiny. Why is my hand so—
I tried to speak.
What came out was a thin, reedy wail.
A face swam into view above me. Exhausted. Gentle. Familiar somehow, though I couldn't place why.
Dark hair. Tired eyes. A soft smile despite obvious fatigue.
She reached down and carefully lifted me—lifted me?—cradling me against her chest.
"Hey there," she whispered. Her voice was hoarse, like she'd been screaming. "Welcome to the world."
World? What world? What is—
"I'm your mom." She pressed a kiss to my forehead.
"My name is Rika."
I tried to scream.
What came out was a burp