Twice upon a time, in the land that was far from Earth, there was a person whose appearance hinted at an adolescence boy who had yet to fully navigate the phase.
His frame seemed caught in that awkward limbo between boyhood and manhood, all angles and unsteady lines.
Despite his youthful feature though, the depths of his eyes portrayed one that had seen more than enough to reject everything it layed upon.
It was dark and brooding, almost too dark for the boy of his age.
They held a weight that could almost convince you they harbored no eyeballs at all, just an abyss of resignation.
It was a gaze that spoke volumes, as if he'd glimpsed the world's in its completion and found little reason to engage with it further.
The boy, No... Let's call him a man, to preserve his dignity at least.
The man slouched back in the chair, both of his legs splayed out like he had nowhere else to be, and certainly no one to impress.
His right arms hung loosely at his side, limp, like it'd given up on holding anything of value.
His head lolled to other side, chin nearly resting on his chest, while he bit the grimy nails of his left hand.
His anguished hazel eyes, accentuated by his obsidian dark hair stared ahead with the enthusiasm of a houseplant.
The droop in his shoulders suggested a man who had not only missed the last bus but didn't particularly care that he'd missed it.
Even his breathing was lazy, each exhale a sigh of resignation.
It was a posture that screamed, "I'm here, but I don't want to... And certainely do not expect anything."
However, even if all of these details are quite unnatural, would you wish to know the most shocking thing about this person?
He, the boy in question was none other than Yours Truly.
I'd been like this for approximately 64 hours, how do I know the approximate time you ask?
Well, I don't. Really. I made it up for dramatic effects. Pure fiction.
For about three days, if my mental tally of sunrises holds true, I've been in this state—slouched in a medieval style chair, fixated on the glowing screen before me.
[Accept or Nah?] It still read.
With eyes of the same hue, I momentarily straighten my posture, retracting my splayed legs, only to slump forward again, addressing the screen with a hollow voice.
"accept..." I finally conceded.
I hope that you are not accusing me of losing in this nerve game. If I prefer I could have 'not' lose, though I am not certain whether I'd win in the end.
As stated, I've been locked in a staring contest with this screen for at least three days now.
Unlike myself, a sentient, conscientious being with an above average intellect—the screen clearly lacks any semblance of sentience and thus cannot lose.
So, I'd call this match a draw rather than my defeat, given the situation didn't favor me in the first place and was heavily advantageous for my opponent.
In that light, I believe I've held myself together quite well despite the disadvantages, though it may make me look foolish if I accept that proposition.
A man staring down a screen for a whole day + 2... I reject the allegation, Yeah.
Let's just say the screen is manipulated by some unseen hand, and is just refusing to respond.
There is still the option of starving myself out of pride, but given that there is a minimal chance I have to lived out the rest of my little life in this miserable world, I must at least prepare myself even for the smallest eventuality.
[New Event Triggered!]
-Event: Visit to The Academy.
-Time Remaining: 3 Days 4 Hours 17 minutes.
-Note: This World shall be your Domain.
"No No, don't make that shit up... There was never an event like that." I would never forget an event like that during the prologue period if it existed.
However, the LCD did not reply.
"Haaaa..." I heaved a heavy sigh, the kind that seemed to rose from the depths of my soul.
You, dear reader, might be wondering why such a "small" moment would trouble me so deeply, it wasn't.
Anyway, going back, it wasn't this window that annoyed me.
But the event itself... it was nothing too catastrophic, but not something ignorable either.
It was one of the unskippable scenes where the protagonist's reputation fell to rock bottom because of another Hero.
"A great opening," was what my innocent self initially thought on the first playthrough.
I also suspected it might have been a retcon, since nothing like this had occurred in either game 1 or 2.
I assumed it would be a narrative where the protagonist gradually built up their image from a weak and hopeless hero to become the true hero.
Needless to say, I was completely and utterly wrong. The protagonist stayed a bitch for the whole game.
Like stated it was nothing major, but the memory clung on to me, it left me with a heavy sense of irritation and exasperation.
Why, you ask?
Because it was so painfully unpleasant, an all too familiar trope where the hero is humbled, made to grovel in the dirt of his own fallen pride.
What was not a familliar trope however, was that I was now on the receiving end. How fucked up is that?!
"Why should I tollerate such a bullshit?!"
Right now, I still can't decide whether to follow the plot still or not.
Should I just train, run away or discombobulate the plot? Those are my choices.
Are you intrigued, perhaps? The reason I considered the two latter cases when the world teetered on the edge of destruction?
The answer is quite surprisingly simple.
You see, saving the world was possible with only two protagonists, though in the route knowns, Game 2 and Game 3 Protagonists are necessary.
In Game 2, there's a route literally known as "The Failed Salvation."
In this route, one of the final bosses is literally the corrupted protagonist from Game 1.
He is known as "The Fallen."
Depending on your gameplay, normally there would be two branching points: if you failed to defeat him, it leads to a grim ending where the former protagonist and the last boss annihilate all life forms in the world.
The chance of clearing this route, by the way, is less likely than 5%.
To put it plainely, imagine you've spent your whole life playing FPS games like CoD, PUBG, Valorant etc., And then one day out of the blue your friend asks you to play Sekiro, to add even more, on a complete twist, Mob 1 is Isshin, the Sword Saint.
Imagine having to face the boss as a complete newbie, with no combat arts, prosthetics, charms... Just nothing— it's literally like that when you have to confront the literal protagonist.
And... If you do~ defeat him, the outcome varies based on your gameplay, route and interactions with the crown prince or young king of the Ashfort Kingdom.
He may have ascended to the throne or not, regardless the guy would personally joined the Last battle of 'aens' When the Seal started to dissolve, the war, or this last arc will determines the world's ultimate fate.
And here I was, not just a bystander but a participant in this whole absurdity, knowing all of our predetermined role, along with my terrible, vomit inducing plot line.
As if destiny itself conspired to strip away my dignity piece by piece, I had to replay this shit again, and not long ago, I decided to proceed the story as it was designed.
The inevitability of all of this was the most maddening part. At this point in time, I am moving with just faith only.
Grabbing my face, I muttered under my breath, "The protagonist of game 3 from 1 and 2 was incredibly strong, wasn't he? is there any quest for the awakening or what?"
But, considering my playtime, I don't believe there was an event I could, otherwise, not have figured out.
My cousin... Her name?
"What was her name again?" I couldn't recall.
It hit me suddenly, a frustrating blank where memories are supposed to be.
I let my hand drop, sinking into a moment of deep contemplation.
I couldn't summon her face, her voice, her name, her essence. . Nothing at all. I could recall nothing of her.
"Huh? Why?" I muttered, my hands resting limply on my thighs, lost in a long moment of wondering.
I sat there, again, trying to grasp at memories that slipped through my fingers like water, leaving me unsettled and perplexed.
"System, why can't I remember?" I whispered, hoping for an answer.
The screen displayed just five words, that form just a simple sentence.
[There are no relevant functions.]
It was a simple response, but with it carried a weight that left me feeling hollow, disappointed, and strangely melancholic.
"I see... ha ha ha..." I forced a steady, deliberate laugh. "Maybe it's to not feel what I do right now? If so, it failed miserably," I mused aloud, not to anyone in particular, but to myself.