Daniel's POV
I can't believe it, but I can't be mistaken either. It's her—Rem, from the Roswaal Mansion, the character I've followed through every episode of my favorite anime. My waifu. The one who brings color to my gray existence. But how? How is she here, standing before me, in the middle of this apocalyptic chaos?
The fear that gripped me moments ago vanishes. My heart races, not from the tornado, but from her presence. Is this heaven or hell? All I know is that she's here, real and alive.
"Is this real? My waifu is alive..."
As I stare at her beautiful face, she speaks, her voice soft yet tinged with sorrow. "I'm sorry, Daniel. I hope you can understand what I have to do. Forgive me."
I freeze. She knows my name? How? My heart pounds harder, but before I can ask, she points at me, her eyes filled with resolve. "I'm sorry, but I have to kill you to end this."
"What?"
Her words pierce my chest like a dagger. She's serious. My waifu, the one I've adored through every episode, is saying she needs to kill me. She grips the chain tightly, and in a swift motion, swings the spiked iron ball toward me.
I scream, panic overtaking me, and I let go of the pole. By some miracle, I dodge her attack, and the iron ball smashes into the concrete pole, obliterating it. I collapse to the ground, crawling away in terror.
"W-wait! Why? What did I do?" I shout, barely able to breathe.
But she doesn't answer, only staring at me with cold, predatory eyes. She's not joking—she truly intends to end my life. The pain in my chest is unbearable. My waifu, the one who gave me purpose, is now my executioner.
"Please, Rem, have mercy..." I whisper, tears streaming down my face.
She swings the chain again, and this time, a glowing horn appears on her forehead, wrapped in crackling blue energy. The street cracks under her step as she prepares for another attack. But before the iron ball can hit me, a hand grabs my shirt and throws me aside, saving me just in time.
I skid across the pavement, rolling painfully. My arms are scraped and burning, but the pain confirms this isn't a dream—it's real. "Am I going to die here?" I mutter, fear consuming me.
I glance around and see a woman with black hair wielding a katana, locked in combat with Rem. I don't recognize her, but what shocks me more is the chaos around me—people and creatures that look like monsters from anime, fighting fiercely. Are they characters too? Allies or enemies? I don't know anymore.
"Stay down if you want to live!" the woman with the katana yells over the sound of clashing steel.
"Who are you? Why is she doing this?" I cry out, but my voice is drowned out by another explosion nearby.
The black-haired woman doesn't look back, her focus entirely on Rem's relentless strikes. "No time to talk! Just run!"
In that moment, only one thing is clear: "Please, someone, anyone, save me..."
I froze, paralyzed by fear as the scene unfolded before me. The air was thick with the smell of ozone and pulverized concrete. This wasn't like the anime I loved, where a victim is saved by a gallant hero at the last possible second. Instead, a horrifying sight greeted me—the head of the woman who had just saved my life rolled across the cracked pavement, severed clean by Rem's brutal, heavy swing.
"No..." the word died in my throat.
Rem, the kind-hearted character I adored despite her extraordinary powers, would never commit such a heinous act without reason. In the show, she was the soul of loyalty. But what I was witnessing defied everything I knew about her. My mind spiraled, the cognitive dissonance tearing at me as I grasped for any possible explanation.
"No... this isn't real. Please, tell me this is just a dream!" I whispered, my voice cracking as fear clawed at my chest.
In that moment, a primal instinct forced me to move. I couldn't stay in this graveyard of rebar and dust. Despite the shaking in my knees, I mustered the courage to stand. I began to limp away, my breath coming in ragged hitches, trying to ignore the searing, hot-iron pain of my wounds.
But I wasn't fast enough.
The whistle of the chain cutting through the air was the only warning I got. Rem's spiked iron ball hurtled toward me with a ferocity that made me feel like the vilest of enemies. I heard her scream—a sound filled with a raw, jagged rage I'd never heard in any voice actor's performance. The sharp spikes tore into my back, the impact shattering bones and piercing deep into my flesh. The pain was indescribable, a white-hot explosion that blotted out the world.
My eyes shut instinctively as fragmented memories of my life flashed before me—the smell of my room, the flickering light of my monitor, the taste of a cheap convenience store meal. I didn't understand why I was seeing these boring things now. Regret flooded my heart like cold water. I was about to die, and I had to accept it.
Strangely, despite how much I'd claimed to loathe my life, I was absolutely terrified of dying. Tears streamed down my face, hot against my dusty skin, yet a bitter, twisted smile curved my lips. Maybe it was because my long-held wish to end it all was finally coming true. But no—this wasn't joy. These were the heavy tears of self-pity.
I actually laughed, a wet, choking sound. I was dying miserably, not because of how I'd die, but because of how utterly worthless my life had been up to this point. No achievements, no dreams fulfilled, just a fleeting existence that would vanish into the static without ever having meant a thing. I was a failure.
They say everyone has a purpose. But what was mine? To live as a loser and die in a pile of rubble? Is God truly loving to His children? I wondered, my thoughts becoming hazy. Or maybe I wasn't one of His chosen—maybe I was just one of the forsaken, abandoned because I'd spent my Sundays sleeping in instead of offering praise.