The sterile scent of antiseptic filled my nostrils as I blinked against the harsh glare of fluorescent lights. The rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor pulsed in my ears, a constant reminder that I was alive, yet trapped in this clinical prison. I fought against the heavy sedatives that clung to my limbs, each movement a battle against the weight of my own body.
As I propped myself up on the stiff hospital bed, my mind raced to piece together the fragments of my recent past. The fight had been a brutal awakening, a moment that shattered the illusion of invincibility I had wrapped around myself. Nathaniel Brightmore, the boy we had dismissed as weak and insignificant, had risen like a storm, unleashing a fury that none of us had anticipated. He had been biding his time, gathering strength, and when he finally struck, it was with a precision that left us reeling.
I lost.
No, we lost. My friends, my allies—everyone who had stood against him had crumbled under the weight of his newfound strength. The memory of my body hitting the ground, the sharp pain of impact, and the darkness that followed felt like a cruel joke.
But then came the flood—memories that were not my own, crashing over me like a tidal wave. Another life, another world, and with it, the horrifying truth: this was a game.
I had immersed myself in its depths, memorizing every route, every character arc, every tragic downfall. And now, as the knowledge settled within me, I grasped the grim reality of my existence.
There was never meant to be two protagonists.
Nathaniel Brightmore was the hero of this story, the destined savior, the one fated to rise above all others. And me? I was a mere footnote, a villain destined for defeat, a minor nuisance that would grow in significance only to meet my end in all forty-one routes. No matter the choices made, my fate was sealed.
Death.
And then there was the Crimson Throne.
A system, a force, an entity woven into the very fabric of this reality. It had chosen me, binding itself to my soul, whispering promises of power beyond comprehension. But it would not grant me strength freely; it demanded growth, evolution, a relentless pursuit of dominion.
As I sat there, the voice of the system echoed in my mind, cold and commanding.
"Caelum Nyxbane," it intoned, its tone devoid of warmth. "You have been chosen to walk a path that was never meant to exist. The Crimson Throne is yours, but it will not yield its power easily. You must earn it."
I clenched my fists, nails digging into my palms. "Earn it? How?"
"Through struggle. Through pain. Through sheer unyielding will," the system replied. "Train. Fight. Grow. The more you push yourself, the more power you will unlock. The Crimson Throne will grant you abilities beyond mortal comprehension, but only if you prove yourself worthy."
A smirk crept onto my face, a dark glint igniting in my eyes. "So, I have to work for it? Fine. I've never been one to shy away from a challenge."
"Good," the system said, its voice resonating with approval. "But remember this: the path of the Second Protagonist is not for the weak-willed. You will face trials that will test your very soul. You will be pushed to your limits and beyond. But if you endure, if you rise above the challenges, you will become a force to be reckoned with."
The thought of surpassing even the Umbral Monarch himself sent a thrill through me, a rush of excitement that drowned out the remnants of fear.
"Tell me more," I demanded, my voice steady. "What kind of power are we talking about?"
"The Crimson Throne will grant you abilities unique to your role as the Second Protagonist," the system replied. "The Alpha and Omega, and Crimson Demon. These abilities will allow you to shape the world around you, to alter the course of events. But they, too, must be earned."
I nodded, determination igniting a fire in my chest. "I'll do whatever it takes. I won't let this world—or anyone in it—define my fate."
When I opened my eyes again, I was back in the hospital room. The beeping machines, the antiseptic smell, the sterile white walls—it was all the same as before.
But I was different.
I could feel the system within me, a constant presence in the back of my mind. It was real. It was mine.
And it changed everything.
I sat up, my mind racing with possibilities. If I truly had a system, then I wasn't bound by the rules of the game anymore. I could change the story. I could rewrite my fate.
As I reached out to the system interface, a new notification appeared:
New Quest: The Path of the Crimson Throne
Objective: Embrace your role as the Second Protagonist and begin shaping your destiny.
Reward: Unlock the first tier of Crimson Demon abilities.
A quest. Of course. This was a game, after all. And now, I was one of its players.
But I wasn't just any player. I was the Second Protagonist. The wildcard. The disruptor of fate.
With Lila Eldergrove's betrayal still fresh in my mind and Nathaniel Brightmore's rise looming over me, I felt the weight of my choices pressing down. I would not be a pawn in this game any longer. I would seize my destiny, and the Crimson Throne would be mine.
And I was going to make sure the world remembered my name.
But more than anything I wanted power