Life.

People say it has meaning. Purpose. Some grand reason you’re supposed to figure out before it’s over.

Honestly?

I think that’s bullshit.

Some people are born strong. Some are born lucky. And some of us are born just… there. Not special enough to matter. Not useless enough to disappear.

I tried. I really did.

School. Family. Dreams.

Didn’t work out.

So I ran. From expectations. From people. From myself.

And somehow, I ended up here.

Inside a game I used to play.

The Hero Chronicles.

Famous for being unfair. Famous for being impossible.

And now I’m part of it.

Not as the chosen hero.

Not as someone important.

Just Leo von Celestial.

The human Domain's failure.

And the worst part? I've got 40 days until the Path Awakening.

The same trial that killed the original Leo in the game.

Now it’s my turn.

I shifted in my sleep, pulling the thin blanket over my head in a desperate attempt to block out the noise.


I groaned and pressed my face deeper into the pillow Roran had called "perfectly comfortable" last night. The man had clearly never slept on anything that wasn't made of rocks and disappointment.


"Tch." I threw the blanket off and sat up, rubbing my eyes. The room was dim, early morning light filtering through a dusty window that hadn't been cleaned in what looked like years. Dust motes floated lazily in the pale yellow beams.


Of course he didn't. He was sprawled on his cot like a corpse, one arm dangling off the side, mouth open wide enough to catch flies. He'd slept through the entire night without stirring once, and apparently, he planned to sleep through the apocalypse too.


Chapter 61 - The Art of Being Stubborn