Chapter 3: The Prologue [3]

As those words echoed throughout the cathedral and bounced off the walls, reverberating into my ears multiple times, the "hero" threw his free hand forward.

And, right as the "hero's" free hand was perpendicular to my sitting figure, the "hero" rushed forward.

Behind him, the soldiers followed behind as they unsheathed their swords and raised their shields in preparation for my first attack.

From my elevated throne, they honestly just looked like a bunch of ants rushing out of their colony.

None of them dared step off the massive red carpet and into the darkness beyond, so they all rushed at me from the same direction and angle.

With a grim expression under my mask, I pushed myself off the throne until I stood upright and stared downward.

Below me, I could see the "hero" approaching the sloping red carpet that was laid out on the staircase that led up to my position.

Looking down at the hundreds of figures below me, I couldn't help but reminisce about the "good old times" from just a couple of minutes ago when I had just been sitting in class.

Now, here I was, about to either die or commit mass murder... or would it be considered self-defense?

*STOMP*

*STOMP*

*STOMP*

Snapping me back to reality, my ears were bombarded by the sound of hundreds of footsteps.

As the iron and metal boots of the soldiers crashed against the delicate and smooth surface of the red carpet, I took a step forward.

Peering at the "hero" below, who had just taken his first step onto the staircase, I sighed and focused my mind.

The book stated that to use an ability, you simply had to will your mind to do so.

In other words, it was all about confidence.

As I steeled my mind and tried to cease my body's trembling, a sudden yell interrupted me.

"CHARGE!"

Before I could even react, a giant magic circle appeared below the hundreds of soldiers, shining a dark purple.

At that moment, I noticed the army's backline consisted of soldiers who were not wearing armor but long cloaks and hoodies.

With their wands pointing at the magic circle, the mages yelled out in unison.

"Strength and Speed!"

A moment later, the circle disappeared as its color was swallowed up by the towering pillars to its right and left.

As the exhausted and panting mages collapsed onto the soft red fabric of the carpet, the soldiers ahead suddenly began sprinting, their previous fatigue nowhere to be seen.

Examining the staircase, which was now becoming flooded with more and more soldiers by the second, I raised my hands.

It was funny, really.

Or maybe I was just coping.

If I trusted the book here, that meant I would survive and win this fight.

However, that also meant I would die to the protagonist in a couple of years.

It was like a starving person biting a poisoned apple.

I was just buying myself time to escape the inevitable.

Shaking my head, I looked away from the "hero" and his army and stared up at the endless abyss of darkness above me.

At least in this world, with magic and superpowers, I might be able to have some fun before my eventual death.

Back on Earth, I'd probably have graduated high school, moved on to college, gotten a job at some famous corporation, and worked till my eventual death.

But, after this one fight, I'll be free to do whatever the hell I want without any repercussions.

The entire world would be my playground.

At that moment, a chilling gust of wind rushed against my back, blowing back my cloak and revealing my legs.

Turning around, I was surprised to see a massive glass cross hanging from the wall behind me, only a couple of meters above the throne I was just sitting on.

"Hmm?"

As I instinctively raised my hands to fix my hair, I suddenly felt a hard yet warm material brush against my hands.

Then, I saw it.

Gazing back at the massive cross behind me, I saw my reflection.

"..."

A figure without a mask was looking back at me.

The figure had two horns, about eight inches, bursting from his amber-brown hair, and the exact same cloak I was wearing.

Tilting his head with a playful smile, the figure gazed back at me with his blood-red eyes... as if beckoning me to come closer.

Ignoring the approaching hero and his army on the staircase, I took a step forward, reaching my hand toward the reflection on the cross.

Then, I looked further down.

His cloak...wasn't black; it was painted red...with not a single piece of black fabric visible.

I had seen it somewhere before.

It was the red that had leaked out of my hand once when I cut myself with a knife on accident.

As a mortified expression appeared on my face, the figure's outstretched hand met mine.

Or perhaps...my hand touched the surface of the glass cross.

...

"...what was I thinking about?"

Dazed, I turned back around and looked back down the staircase, finding the "hero" now only a couple of steps away from me.

Perhaps it was because I had accepted my fate, but my body had ceased its trembling, and my head was devoid of any fear.

Stepping forward, I descended the staircase completely unarmed and titled my head.

Was...life always this bland?

Maybe it was because I had spent too much time in this colorless cathedral, but my eyes were starting to get tired.

Where were the vibrant colors and loud sounds!?

Why was everything just dark...?

Why was everything so silent...?

Closing my eyes to let them rest, I extended my hand forward.

"No—no, please—AAAHHHH!"

As a sound finally blessed my ears, my body coursed with excitement and exhilaration, trembling uncontrollably.

Opening my eyes, I let a smile appear on my bland face and glanced downward.

My sleeve...it was painted red.

A vibrant and colorful red.