I’m no prodigy, just an average nobody. Despite running more laps than others every day, I still always fall short.
Most people have someone cheering them on, pushing them forward. Not me. I was alone in the world, unknown and uncared for, until I started to push back, betraying and usurping those who stood in my way.
It’s no hyperbole to say I clawed my way up, consuming everything in my path.
I labored at a construction site where they paid half the promised wage. So, I pushed that bastard into a hole, threatening to bury him alive in cement if he didn’t pay up. He did, but then everyone turned on me, branding me a psychopath. I did it for them, yet they reported me to the police. I ran until I had an epiphany.
People don’t need a savior. They need someone to tell them what they want to hear. So, I became that person. I became a scammer, selling them counterfeit goods, from computer parts to trinkets. Then I discovered there are idiots who love to surround themselves with worthless things.
Anime, manga, and novels were their obsessions. I lacked the talent and time to master anime and manga, so I turned to writing novels, something these bastards adored.
I couldn’t comprehend why these idiots enjoyed something they couldn’t see. I penned romantic drivel for women, but they were a small audience. I needed a larger crowd, bigger fools who would buy millions of pointless things.
So, I wrote a fantasy novel. I pilfered from everyone, from their characters to their dialogues to their appearances, but it got me nowhere. Until I stumbled upon the novel ‘The Memories of My Life’.
The writing was mediocre, not something anyone would willingly read. However, what these fools overlooked was the authenticity of the characters, the setting, the theme, and the dialogues. It was as if the author had lived in that world.
I took everything from it, barely altering the main plot. I only changed the character names and their genders, and some species. The rest was a carbon copy.
Once I hit the 200-chapter mark, everyone swarmed to my novel like pigeons pecking at grains. Of course, it was bound to be a hit. I hired ghost-writers to add novelty and included elements that would draw everyone in, from polygamous relationships to epic battle scenes.
I harbor no regrets for the steps I took to reach the top. Everyone pushed and kicked me around until I realized these bastards didn’t deserve my respect.
“Even if you are loved by gods, I won’t kneel down and beg for forgiveness. I will steal your novel again, even if you write another one. Thank you for the gift, my inspiration. Rome.”
Erik declared, his voice echoing in the empty hall, as he stared at the vacant bloody throne, contemplating his past and future. Suddenly, he remembered the bloody throne from the novel, ‘The Memories of My Life’, the very novel he had plagiarized.
Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.
“How long are you going to observe me, Rome. I know you are here,” Erik announced, spreading his arms wide.
“Of course, you knew this. You fraud,” a male voice echoed from the bloody throne.
Once Erik saw the throne, he recognized it as the Demon Lord's throne. He remembered that when the Hero came to confront the Demon Lord, he found the bloody throne. When the Hero approached the throne, the dripping blood transformed into the Demon Lord, severing the Hero’s left hand and barely escaping from the Demon Lord.
Erik realized from the novel that the blood dripping on the throne was the Demon Lord, who had changed his shape. However, the figure spoke about sending Erik to Rome. He deduced that the blood must be Rome.
“CLAP!” “CLAP!”
Applause echoed in the cave. Erik turned to see the blood had stopped dripping, swiftly morphing into a man seated on a golden throne.
Erik saw a man clad in red dragon scale armor from neck to toe, sitting with an air of arrogance. He looked exactly like the demon lord described in the novel, with long red hair, brown eyes, and two black horns protruding from his head.
“Welcome to my world, Fraud…. No, our world,” the man greeted, still seated on the throne.
“Rome, why am I here?” Erik asked bluntly, adding, “Why are you a Demon Lord from your novel?”
“HA…HA…” Rome began to laugh, a sinister sound that echoed in the cave, and retorted in a menacing tone,
“Gods must have told you about how I died while fighting the Demon Lord, right?”
Rome paused for Erik to respond, but Rome's menacing voice made Erik tremble in fear, like a leaf in a storm.
From Erik’s silence, Rome grinned, his sharp teeth adding to his malevolent look. Rome had cast aside his humanity to become the Demon Lord, the hero who had fought to protect others was gone.
“‘The Memories of My Life’ is not just a novel. It’s a true story that happened to me when I reincarnated as a Hero. Then I failed to defeat the Demon Lord, and he killed me. The gods granted me two wishes for my bravery.
One, I wanted to return to my planet and write about my hardship and show it to the world. I wanted people to learn about another planet’s corruption, war, and suffering. I thought, if they read my novel, they would stop fighting.
I wanted to voice everything that happened. The gods made me promise I couldn’t say it to others. So, I wrote it as a novel from a different person's perspective, but nobody ever noticed my work. Someone even commented, ‘It was the biggest failure a novel can reach.’”
“HA…HA…” Erik burst out laughing, admitting, “I wrote that comment to make you quit that stupid novel of yours.”
“Come here,” Rome commanded suddenly, his eyes turning blue. Swiftly, Erik was standing before Rome.
Erik was confused about what he was doing here. Rome grabbed Erik's throat and choked him, still seated, his grip tightening. Slowly, Rome began to lift his hand, extending it upward.
Erik's feet left the ground, his eyes widening in terror as he struggled to breathe against Rome's iron grip. His body dangled helplessly while Rome remained calm, his eyes glowing blue.
“Erik, I want you to tell me why my novel failed to reach people,” Rome asked in a cold tone. Rome released his grip on Erik’s throat, and Erik fell to the ground, gasping for air but surprisingly unhurt.
Erik touched his throat, feeling Rome’s fingerprint etched into his skin. He coughed and steadied himself, glancing at Rome to see a wide grin, as if he was enjoying Erik’s suffering.
Who wouldn’t? He was the one who had shattered Rome’s dream. Rome had lost his humanity to stand before Erik.
Taking a deep breath, Erik answered Rome’s question.
“Because your novel sucks.”
[End of Chapter]