By the time I noticed it, I realized I had no idea how I got here.
There was a sloping area covered in green grass. The sun was still high in the sky, so it might still be early afternoon. The wind blew through the grass, giving it the appearance of green water; a wave of grass flowed in my direction as I sat atop a large rock. The smell of moist soil and the grass mixed with the wind, and the fragrance drifted into my nostrils. The wind carried to the forest behind me, rustling the leaves on the trees.
I stood up unintentionally from the rock which I had sat on, and fixed my eyes on the overwhelming expanse of the horizon. A view such as this couldn't easily be seen in little old Midwest America, could it?
Finally, I noticed my own appearance.
The first thing that struck me wasn't my new towering size or the weight of the armor—somehow, it felt lighter than it looked—but the way the wind caught the edge of my crimson cape, snapping it behind me like a banner. I flexed my fingers, the segmented gauntlets responding seamlessly, and realized with a detached fascination that this wasn't some VR rig or cosplay gone wrong. The gold-trimmed ivory plates moved like a second skin, silent and deadly.
The gear was far apart from my normal appearance, but I knew it well. Even today, before I fell asleep in front of my computer after playing online games, this gear was equipped to my player character.
Am I trapped inside the game?
"What the actual hell?!"
I yelled at the top of my lungs. Even though I knew there is no one here to answer, I couldn't help but cry out my confusion. My voice echoed back, very different from my old ine, yet heroic sounding without even trying to be—this helmet wasn't just for show, then. I took a deep breath, the sound of my own breathing amplified inside the enclosed helm, steady and rhythmic like a blacksmith's bellows. The air tasted filtered, sterile, as if the armor itself was purifying it for me.
I slowly move towards the sword sheaths to my waist and whip out the twin blades, the metal singing as they catch the sunlight.
"Okay, deep breath," I mutter to myself, twirling them experimentally. The weight feels perfect—like extensions of my own limbs.
"What the hell?!"
I scream again.
The weight is such that I can hardly believe they're made of metal. I lightly swing the unrealistic swords to confirm the weight. Then I swing the sword with one hand each. Even though I'm equipped with full body armor, I feel light. It's as if I'm not wearing armor at all.
Maybe it's because of how big I am now?
Actually, how big am I now anyways?
Anywho, the swords hummed in my grip, vibrating with an almost electric energy as I twirled them—then tri d using a skill I remembered from the game:
"「Twin Slashes of the Seven Heavenly Virtues」!!!""
The twin blades exploded outward in a radiant cross, carving through the air with a sound like a choir screaming in perfect harmony. Light—actual, tangible light—burst from the steel, arcing across the field and reducing a dozen innocent saplings to splinters. I stood there, dumbstruck, watching the aftermath of what should have been a purely digital attack.
"...Okay," I muttered, lowering the swords. "So that wasn't just flavor text in the skill description."
⏳
The third time I screamed "What the hell?!" it was less panicked and more exasperated, like a man who'd just realized his favorite coffee shop had replaced all the baristas with existential riddles. I sheathed the swords with a *click* that sounded suspiciously smug and turned in a slow circle. "Alright, universe," I announced to the empty field. "I've got magic swords, armor that defies physics, and apparently the ability to shout attack names unironically. What's next—a tutorial quest pop-up?"
Nothing.
'Oh well.' I shrugged—or tried to, at least. The pauldrons made it more of a full-body clank. "Guess I'll just walk until something tries to kill me."
⏳
Two hours later, something tried to kill me.
The forest had thickened into a gnarled maze of twisted oaks, their branches knitting together like arthritic fingers. Shadows pooled unnaturally deep, and the air tasted like iron and damp moss. Then, from the underbrush, a voice—rasping, amused, and distinctly not human—slithered into my ears. "Well, well. A shiny little knight all alone in the Wolfsbane Hollow."
The voice sounded like someone had dragged a knife across gravel—if gravel could laugh. I didn't turn around. Rule one of dark fantasy bullshit: never give the creepy thing your back *or* your full attention.
Instead, I angled my head just enough to catch movement in my peripheral vision—a slithering shadow detaching itself from the tree trunks like ink spilled on wet parchment.
"Shiny little knight?" I snorted, thumbing the hilts of my swords. "Buddy, I've been called worse by better." The shadow coalesced into something vaguely humanoid, all elongated limbs and too many joints. Its grin split its face like a crack in a porcelain mask. "Oh, I *like* you," it purred. "Most of your kind soil themselves when they hear the name Wolfsbane Hollow."
"Yeah, well." I shrugged again (clank). "Turns out existential panic's great for the bladder control." The thing's grin widened—which shouldn't have been anatomically possible—and it took a step forward, its elongated fingers twitching like spiders testing their webs.
"Tell me, little knight," it crooned, circling me with the predatory grace of a starved cat. "Do you know why they call this place Wolfsbane Hollow?"
I rolled my shoulders, feeling the armor plates shift with eerie silence. "Let me guess—local flora, toxic to cute kittens?"
The creature's laugh skittered through the trees like a handful of thrown bones. "Oh, sharper than your blades, aren't you?" It lunged—not at me, but *past* me, its elongated fingers raking through the air where my head had been half a second before. I hadn't even consciously dodged; the armor *moved* me, like it had a mind of its own.
"Local flora," it hissed, pirouetting on limbs that bent the wrong way, "and the wolves who *ate* it." Shadows pooled around its feet, writhing. "They howled themselves inside out. Now their ghosts hunt anything that bleeds." Its grin split wider, showing teeth like shattered glass. "You do bleed, don't you, little knight?"
I sighed and drew my swords. The metal didn't sing this time—it *growled*. "Funny story," I said, adjusting my grip. "I don't know yet! You wanna help me test that theory?"
The creature paused mid-step, its head tilting like a confused owl. Then it laughed—a wet, gurgling sound that made my spine itch. "Oh, *delightful*," it crooned. "You're either very brave or very stupid."
"Historically? Both." I lunged.
The armor didn't just move with me—it *amplified* me. My body blurred, swords carving twin arcs of golden light through the gloom.
It's probably time to use a skill.
"「Twin Slashes of the Seven Heavenly Virtues」!!!"
The shadows screamed.
Not the creature—the actual *darkness* recoiled as my blades tore through it, light erupting like a supernova in the hollow. The creature's porcelain grin shattered mid-leap, its elongated limbs flailing as it crashed into the underbrush. It scrambled up instantly, but now its form flickered—like a corrupted save file—between monstrous and something almost... human.
I stood there, ready for another possible attack—but the creature just *stared* at me with its flickering, corrupted face. Its elongated fingers twitched, hesitating for the first time since it slithered out of the shadows.
Then it lunged again.
Like a wounded animal.
The creature lunged—and I laughed.
Not because I was brave.
Not because I was stupid.
Okay maybe it was a little bit of hoth...
But because the armor *hummed* against my skin, vibrating with the same electric energy as my swords, and something primal in my gut *knew* this thing couldn't touch me.
"「Holy Judgement of the Dawn's Edge」!!!" I shouted, spinning low as the creature lunged again. My right sword ignited with molten gold light, cleaving upward in a crescent that sent the thing's shadowy form *splattering* against the trees like wet paint. It screeched—a sound like nails on a chalkboard dipped in acid—before reforming, its flickering humanoid features now twisted in something between rage and disbelief.
"You—what *are* you?" it hissed, its voice skipping like a scratched record.
"Currently?" I flipped both swords in my hands, feeling the armor thrum in anticipation. "Really damn motivated."
The creature's form stuttered again, its elongated limbs glitching like a buffering video. "No knight of the Order moves like that," it rasped. "Their skills are rigid. *Predictable.*"
"Wow, rude." I clanked my pauldrons in a shrug. "And here I thought we were bonding." Before it could retort, I lunged—not with a skill this time, just raw, stupid momentum. The thing dodged effortlessly, but that was the point; my boot slammed into the gnarled oak behind it, using the rebound to spin midair. "「Dante's Infernal Waltz of Limbo」!!!"
The world tilted.
My swords became streaks of liquid sunlight as my body pirouetted in a three-count rhythm only the armor seemed to know. Each rotation sent crescents of holy fire spiraling outward—not at the creature, but *around* it, forming a cage of burning scripture. The creature's elongated fingers twitched toward the bars before recoiling with a hiss. "Since when do Holy Knights know such strange forms?" it snarled, its voice glitching between octaves.
"Since I pirouetted through your mom's defenses last Tuesday," I shot back, landing in a crouch that made my cape billow dramatically. The armor *definitely* added the flair without my input.
The creature lunged—not at me, but at the weakest point in the flaming bars.
Clever.
Too bad I'd planned for that.
"「Weight of the Original Sin」!!!" I bellowed, slamming my left sword into the earth. The ground beneath the creature *groaned* like a sinner at confession before erupting in chains of molten scripture on apple tree branches—because apparently, my holy magic had a thing for dramatic horticulture. The creature shrieked as the chains coiled around its flickering limbs, pinning it mid-lunge like a bug in a shadowbox.
⏳
One hyper-stylized finishing move later (involving a backflip I definitely couldn't have done pre-isekai), the creature dissolved into motes of blackened light. A chime rang in my ears—not the pathetic *ding* from the game's level-up system, but a full-on cathedral bell that vibrated my molars. Golden text scorched itself across my vision:
**LEVEL UP: 100 → 101**
I blinked. "Wait, *what*?"
The game's level cap was 100.
Hard-coded.
Unbreakable.
Devs had sworn it in patch notes.
The remnants of the creature's shadowy form dissipated like smoke in a chapel censer, leaving behind only the faintest scent of burnt incense and the lingering echo of its final, glitching scream. I stood there, swords still humming with residual holy energy, staring at the golden text seared into my vision.
**LEVEL UP: 100 → 101**
"...Huh."