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Create a bill that punishes corrupt officials with death!"

But then they say: "Killing is against the law. They're human too, and have a right to live!"

Damn those so-called Human Rights activists.

Anyone running for office should serve the people, not exploit them.

And yet, time and again—
They hunger for power.
They bend the laws.
They steal the people’s taxes.

I was nothing but a small internet café owner, struggling to pay bills. But my life changed when I stumbled upon someone in a dark web forum. A shadow with a code name, who taught me everything—from basic programming to breaching secure national servers.

I became an anonymous whistleblower.
Exposed corrupt politicians.
Flooded social media with undeniable proof.

But one night, I made a mistake.
I forgot to activate my VPN. Forgot to scramble my signal.

And they came.
Secret agents. Black ops.

They didn’t arrest me.
They executed me.

I thought that was the end.

But fate had other plans.

I woke up… not on Earth…

…in a world ruled by mana and aura.

A world where kingdoms rise and fall by the strength of their swordsmen and mages…
…where corruption bleeds through nobility like poison in wine.

And this time, I won’t make the same mistake.

This time, I’ll burn their world from the inside out.

The Ruthless Magic Swordsman

🌫️ Edge of Glaive's Spine — The Foglands

They told the noble heirs not to cross the black ridge.

That beyond it, the demon fog consumed memory, mana, and even time.

But Achilles didn't ask for permission.

One hour before dawn, he walked alone past the warding glyphs.

> >>> Fog Detected: Class-X Residue

>>> Temporal Disruption Field Active

🧩 He Entered a Place That Should Not Exist

It was like stepping through code into a suspended function—no beginning, no end.

> "So... it's true," the entity said. "The original has returned."

Designation: Achilles_Prototype_000

"This version of you was left behind."

The fog shimmered with embedded glyphs—raw glyphs, like lines of exposed command strings.

> Echo: "You weren't reborn here. You were returned."

> Achilles: "Returned… from what?"

> Echo: "From your own system. You left something behind when you died. Something too complex to be erased."

> "They think I'm the error," the Echo said, tilting its head.

And for a moment, the fog parted—revealing the world's base layer:

Spell circles as callable functions.

> "You see it too, don't you?" the Echo asked. "This world is built on a code matrix."

As the fog began to reclaim the space, the Echo's form destabilized.

It reached forward—not attacking, but transferring something.

> >>> Partial Fragment Transfer Request:

Data Tag: [Uncompiled Memory Cluster]

Description: [ROOT://META_RUNFILE]

The file entered his System. Locked, encrypted… but his.

The Echo gave a faint, unreadable smile before dissolving.

Achilles walked out of the fog by sunrise.

The guards gasped. The other heirs whispered. No one dared speak to him.

But Agent Bell, hiding beyond the ridge, scribbled furiously in her log:

"We thought he was adapting to this world…"

"But what if this world is adapting to him?"

The Echo Beyond the Fog