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Nightmare's Endgame: Hell Mode

inakoranim
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chs / week
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Synopsis
----- Female protagonist, no yuri, and romance won’t be introduced anytime soon. ---- A hero is destined to carry the will of the Gods, chosen to vanquish all evil. And then there’s me—a shut-in gamer who finally beat Nightmare mode after eight exhausting years. I should be celebrating, right? But instead, I’ve been yanked into the game’s world. Except it’s not the usual Nightmare mode I know—it’s Hell mode, the one I’ve never dared to try. Am I supposed to step in as the hero and save the world? No. The world doesn’t revolve around me. The cheats and power-ups aren’t just handed out. And the real hero? He’s far weaker than I ever imagined. But the worst part? I have to kill the final boss? One that I've never met nor know of? ... Damn it. ================= Author's Note: This is my first time writing, so I’d really appreciate any feedback you have—whether it’s what you liked or what could be improved! Also, the pacing is really messed up, so I'm trying my best to fix it along the way. So the first 10 chapters may feel a bit icky, but stick with it until chapter 25~! Anyway, I will slowly re-edit those chapters.
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Chapter 1 - Transmigrated (Edited)

Click– Clack– Click– Clack– Clack–

The rhythmic sounds of a keyboard and mouse, punctuated by the thin sound of breathing.

The glow from the monitor was the only source of light in the pitch-black room.

The room itself was in a dreadful state. Trash was scattered across the floor: empty instant noodle cups, alcohol bottles, cigarette butts, and other debris.

Despite the filth, the rest of the room was clean—at least in my eyes. A room free of cockroaches was considered a haven.

Yet signs of wear and damage were evident on the walls: cracks marred the small space, barely qualifying as a home.

This small, dilapidated house was all I had left from my parents.

Why choose to live in such a place? A house barely fit for living.

I could have sold it.

Rented it out.

At least had someone maintain it?

But it was too late.

My parents had already left this so-called 'hell' they were forced into.

Both of them had left too soon.

A once happy family was shattered in a single night—a night that had completely disrupted my life.

Yet I remained determined.

Financially, I was secure, receiving just enough allowance to ensure I wouldn't starve. I was fortunate to be born into a relatively well-off family. My parents worked for a major corporation, and with their hard-earned money, they settled into this modest house.

Those were the golden days of my life, with a happy little brother and loving parents.

But, as the saying goes, good things never last.

I learned that the hard way.

With my family gone, I was left with the goal that the adults around me had set.

"Just keep up with school, get into a good college, and you'll sort things out."

"Do well in school, get into a decent college, and you'll figure it out."

"Go to school, aim for a good college, and everything will work out."

Naturally, as a girl with no goals, I followed this advice.

But those adults only appeared at my parents' funeral. Everyone was dressed in black suits and dresses. Some wept, and some gave speeches of gratitude. Yet, why did they all seem like puppets?

Lifeless puppets, who are controlled by their creator's standards of how a funeral should be conducted. With feigned gratitude and fake tears, I've never seen anyone truly mourn.

Some people seemed more interested in the positions my parents had earned through their hard work and sacrifice. They took what they could from it without a second thought.

Why?

How? 

I tried asking the adults at the funeral but was met with scornful looks. Some were kind enough to offer advice like "do well in school," yet those adults vanished from my life thereafter.

So, as a 13-year-old girl, I threw myself into my studies. I attended every class and aimed to be at the top of my grade.

Hour after hour, I studied.

My fingers were numb and trembling each time I finished studying. My mind was often hazy, and I even had bloody noses on some particularly unlucky days.

I would study diligently, listen attentively to my teachers, and maintain good behavior in class. I was frequently hailed as the most studious student in the school.

Naturally, I participated in numerous extracurricular activities to increase my chances of getting into my dream university. It was the best university in the country, where I hoped to graduate and find a job, maybe even start a family like my parents did.

But, in my foolishness, I ignored my health, neglected my friends, and disregarded my social life. I mindlessly focused on my tasks, leaving me feeling mind-numbed.

Just so I could enroll in University M. 

But it costs money, right?

Yes, it does. So I tried to rely on my parent's bank accounts, which I should've inherited. 

…Is what I thought.

Yet I've never received those.

In the end, I didn't bother with it.

I thought to myself, that I could work myself. Earn hard-working money and have enough money for attending the University right? 

No. I was wrong. 

I was already sleeping only six hours a night, attending classes for eight hours, studying for seven hours, and dedicating another three hours to extracurricular activities.

It was taking a toll on me, but I had to start working to afford university. So, I did just that.

Wake up.

Fix my appearance.

Go to school.

Study.

Come back from school.

Study.

Work.

Sleep.

Repeat.

Yet I never stopped.

Why?

Because 'they told me so.'

But hold on. Who were they?

The adults of course.

Did they ever help you since?

…no?

That was the conclusion I met after graduating high school. So how did I end up in this condition? 

Even with part-time jobs, I couldn't save enough money. So I aimed for a scholarship but failed. I tried again and failed once more.

Until I had enough. Why couldn't I succeed? I worked so hard and put in so much effort, yet my abilities remained mediocre.

Why?

Countless news articles and encouraging quotes insist that if you fail, you should try again and again until you succeed.

Yet where was the success I was striving for?

Nowhere in sight.

It was all bullshit.

All bullshit.

What was the point of my life? It would soon be replaced by someone else in the future anyway. What was the point?

I kept questioning reality and fell into depression shortly after high school.

Then one day, while aimlessly surfing the internet, I stumbled upon something that changed my life.

"The Fall of the Karavia Empire."

It was an open-world RPG game—so immersive and realistic that everything felt incredibly lifelike. After six years, I finally found a new hobby. I became completely absorbed in the game, and addicted to it. I couldn't stop playing.

Life had already taken a turn for the worse, so this was my escape. Plus, the game was based on a novel. How cool was that?

But my main focus was the game, which featured five different levels of gameplay: easy, medium, hard, nightmare, and hell mode. Each level increased the difficulty.

After all my effort, I finally beat nightmare mode. Just as I was about to move on to hell mode, something unexpected happened.

I found myself dragged into the game. 

***

"Ugh."

I tried to get up, but a wave of intense nausea overwhelmed me. My stomach churned, and I gagged uncontrollably, clutching the bed for support. 

"Urk–"

Desperate to ease the queasiness, I reached for a glass of water but found none.

Where's my water bottle? I was sure I had one here.

But then I noticed something strikingly different. My room seemed vastly more spacious, with an expansive layout that gave an impression of grandeur. The bed, now much larger and more luxurious, was adorned with pristine white linens. White curtains, soft and sheer, draped elegantly over the windows, letting moonlight filter in a gentle glow that added a serene ambiance.

On my left arm, a blue bracelet caught my eye, its intricate design familiar.

In contrast to my old, worn bedding, this bed featured a plush mattress—something I could only dream about. Smooth, pristine pillows and elegant sheets replaced the grimy pillow and tattered blanket. The entire setting exuded an air of nobility.

"Am I dreaming?"

But if this is a dream, it's an exceptionally vivid one.

Ding—

[ Welcome ]

A pale blue window appeared in front of me. This was the same type of interface I had seen countless times in the game "Fall of the Karavia Empire."

'...'

"To think I am hallucinating about that game in a dream."

I lifted my arm to touch it, but my hand passed through effortlessly, not even noticing how slender my fingers had become

The last memory I had was playing the game "Fall of the Karavia Empire" until 6 AM", right after I beat the second hardest difficulty of the game. Nightmare mode, the difficulty prior to Hell Mode, was what I'd been struggling with for the past eight years.

The game quickly shook the world with its realism and broke numerous records. But it quickly died off. It was too hard for common players to even play on easy mode, let alone medium, hard, nightmare, and hell mode.

I can't help but wonder why they even bothered adding those modes in the first place.

All the elites of the gaming world tried, and few even passed the medium stage, let alone hard and nightmare stages. Don't even get me started on Hell Mode. 

How are you supposed to beat that mode? Everything in the game had its own mind; a single action could create a butterfly effect and ruin the run. It's the best example of how a butterfly flapping its wings can cause a tornado on the other side of the world.

Anyway, I was the only person who managed to beat Nightmare Mode, a feat that took me an excruciating eight years after conquering Hard Mode.

As I completed Nightmare Mode, a translucent window appeared before me:

[ Are you willing to beat Hell Mode? ]

[ Yes ] [ No ]

I instantly pressed "yes." I mean, why not? I could try to beat it until my death. There was nothing left in my life to enjoy except this game. But after pressing "yes," everything went black. And now, here I am.

'No way. This can't be real.'

After regaining my senses, shock washed over me as I realized I had somehow transmigrated into the very game I had been playing.

The world around me, though unfamiliar, was unmistakably shaped by the game's settings. Panic quickly set in, but I knew I had to stay calm and act rationally. Amidst my chaotic mind, I couldn't help but feel a thrill of excitement.

I made my way into the bathroom, the door creaking as it slowly closed behind me. As I approached the mirror with a mix of anticipation and curiosity, my heart pounded. 

The image staring back at me was undeniably my own, yet everything felt surreal. The reflection was another reminder that I was truly in this world, no longer just a player in a game but part of its reality.

"...!"

Looking into the mirror, I saw a girl, standing about 5'2", with a slender body, long black hair fading to red at the ends, ocean-blue eyes, and pale white skin. Her chest and bum were quite non-existent. And the craziest part? She looked just like me back on Earth, except for the hair and eyes.

"Hmm."

My hair and eyes were the only differences. Well, I actually did look a lot more beautiful now.

'...'

But as I calmed down, I started rethinking everything. If this was truly the world of "The Fall of the Karavia Empire," I was in serious trouble. Literally facing impending doom. A game where, if not done perfectly, the world ends.

"Hah..."

I stepped out of the bathroom and made my way to the window. It appeared to be midnight, but I needed to double-check something.

There were three moons of varying sizes hanging high in the midnight sky

...fuck