I stood there, reveling in my victory over the Red Ogre, panting from my victory shout. Now all that was left was to see what the big guy had on his person. Besides the Red Orb of course. That was guaranteed.

As I brought my arms back down, I took notice of my hands. They were steeped in red. A deep, dark crimson that dripped and oozed between my fingers. I couldn't help but feel the liquid using my thumb, rotating it in circles against my index finger.

I knew what it was of course, how could I not? Cutting off the Red Ogre's head coated me from head to toe in the stuff. The familiar warm and slick substance reminded me of another time they were this red.

The day I died.

As I continued to stare at the red dripping onto the dusty road beneath me, the world began to shift, taking me back to that time, replaying the events that led to my coming to this world.

I was walking home, to an apartment far better than to one I currently lived in, traveling down a road I scarcely used as a shortcut. I can't remember what I was doing beforehand, probably something inane.

But as I turned a corner, that's when I saw him. The tweaked out meth addict holding a little girl and her mother hostage. His eyes were wild and desperate, clearly in the throes of withdrawal, as he held out a dirty old knife, using it to threaten the pair.

I can still see her frightened face as she clung to her mother, tears streaking down her face, staring at the man screaming at them with utter terror.

What was he screaming about again? I can't seem to remember… I imagine it was something along the lines of, "Hand over your money now!" You know, something cliche for a robber to spout.

I could have called the police, should have called the police, but seeing that little girl's face scrunched up in fear just made me snap. I've never been a fan of bullies, even when I was a slightly smaller thing. It caused my parents no end of grief, that's for sure, and time after time they told me to stop sticking my nose where it didn't belong.

But they just didn't understand. Beating up assholes was the last remnant that tied me to my grandfather. I remember his stories, how he always stuck up for the little guy, how he fought guys twice as big as him trying to take someone's lunch money.

If he was to be believed, he also took on an entire yakuza syndicate all by himself. He would always show me this scar he had running along his ribs as proof. "That's where they tried to knife me!" he would say.

I asked him why he went through all that trouble for a bunch of strangers, and his words have stuck with me ever since, running on repeat. Like an earworm that wouldn't shut the hell up.

"If doing right was easy, then everybody would do it. It takes a special kind of man to stand tall when all the world is pressing down on his shoulders. But even with all that burden, he never wavers. Tell me, Ushio, are you that kind of man? Or will you buckle underneath the pressure?"

I think the French call it, noblesse oblige. Those damnable words led to more problems then I'd like to count, and nearly to jail a time or two. But through it all I never wavered. I walked tall through the fire and the brimstone, as slings and arrows assailed me from all sides.

Ok, a bit melodramatic. It was mostly me just punching thugs and jagoffs on a far too regular basis. My parents were angry but good old grandpa was thrilled, and I felt a swell of pride every time he praised me for it.

So when he passed away, I was devastated. It felt like I lost the one person who understood. I became more and more aggressive as I went out and picked fights. It wasn't about doing the right thing anymore, it was just a way to numb the pain.

Grandpa would be ashamed. All it took was losing him to make me buckle. How pathetic. And that feeling of self loathing only led to more and more problems. Soon enough, I became the bully that I fought against.

But in that moment, watching the little girl crying and shivering in fear, his words came rushing back to me. Just because I buckled doesn't mean I can't straighten my back. It was time to do the right thing.

The scene in front of me shifted once more. I was now looking down at my hands, covered in red, just like they are now. But it didn't come from an ogre, it came from me. The knife was sticking into my body. It wasn't the first time it had entered my body, but it would be the last.

I remember grabbing him by the throat once the knife was stuck inside me, probably lodged into my rib or something, and squeezing until he stopped struggling. My eyes went back to my hands, and just like now, I began to feel the blood staining them.

And then I died.

The world snapped back into reality. I was still staring right down at my blood-soaked hands. But something was wrong. I couldn't get my breathing under control, and my heart was beating a mile a minute.

Was I having a panic attack? Was it because I just remembered my death? But why now? There've been plenty of chances for me to freak out earlier, so what made this moment so damn special?

I suppose it was because I was so distracted by being in a new world and being granted superpowers that I could distract myself from the existential dread that made me feel inside. And when that didn't work, I resorted to joking around like I'm some sort of fucking clown.

But there was no distraction right now.

I sat down on the Red Ogre's body, as my hands kept violently shaking. Just like my breathing, I was unable to get them under control. I closed my eyes, trying to focus on something other than my death.

I have to admit, that was impressive. The way you used your Inventory? Pure genius. I-hey, you ok there?

"Oh great, it's you again. Listen I'm not in the mood to deal with your shit right now, alright. So can you do me a favor, and shut your goddamn mouth for a few minutes?" I asked, with more vitriol than I intended. But ever since I got this stupid System, it's been nothing but a pain in the ass. I just needed a few minutes to collect myself before dealing with its bullshit.

What's your problem? I was just trying to be nice.

"Nice? Nice!? Since when have you ever been nice to me? All you've ever done, since the first day I met you, was put me down and make my life harder than it needed to be. So excuse me if I don't buy whatever it is you're selling!"

You just don't understand. I have my reasons.

"Oh really? Then by all means, why don't you share it with the rest of the class?"

…

"Aw, what's wrong? Cat got your tongue?"

Listen, I just-

"No! I'm sick of your bullshit! Why couldn't I have gotten a normal System? One that just answers my questions without insulting my intelligence or hoping that I'll die a horrible death? News flash, I already fucking did that!"

My eyes went back to my hands, still covered in blood. Blood that was rapidly starting to cool. I frantically, and almost manically, started wiping them on the ground. But it was proving to be rather difficult to remove.

I sighed angrily, placing my still red hands on the back of my head, rolling back and forth to get myself under control. But my mind just wouldn't let me. It kept going back to that night, over and over again, lying there on the cold ground and dying.

My hands curled into fists on top of my head, dragging my nails across my bald scalp. Pretty sure I just removed some skin from that, but I was in no state to care. The pain helped to keep me tethered to reality.

This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

Think of the little girl.

"Listen, I thought I told you to-"

Shut up and do it! Think of the little girl you saved. Think of her smile. Focus on nothing else.

I wanted to yell and kick and scream, but with no better idea, I did as the System suggested, even if I didn't want to. I thought back to that night, but instead of focusing on the pain in my stomach, or the red on my hands, I thought of that little girl, smiling as I departed the world.

She was scared. So very scared. Not for herself, but for me. I don't remember the last time someone was scared for me rather than of me. It was nice…

I remember smiling at her first, trying to ease the fear and sadness I could see pervading her eyes. And then, right before I departed to this world, she returned the smile.

She wasn't smiling because I was dying. No, she was smiling because I was able to save her life. She wanted me to know everything would be ok, the same reason I smiled too.

I kept thinking of it, and eventually, I was able to get my breathing under control and unclench my fists. The shaking stopped and my heart returned to a normal tempo.

"Thanks," I said, rather begrudgingly.

…You're welcome.

Now that my emotions were under better control and I wasn't about to freak the hell out, my mind wandered back to the question I had earlier. Why now? I've been able to keep my shit together so far, even when I was basically poisoned to death, so what was different about now?

Was it just because the giant red fucker almost killed me? Maybe, but that didn't feel right. As I just said, I did essentially die from food poisoning, that's kind of the whole reason I'm here, and thinking about that didn't freak me out nearly as bad.

But as my mind went over the fight I just had, thinking about how I was nearly turned into a visceral red paste, my hands started to shake again, proving me wrong. You've got to be kidding... If that's what happens every time I come face to face with death, I am royally screwed.

I shouldn't even be scared of death! I'm in a world where dying gives you superpowers! Hell, I should be hoping to die! Bankai bitches!

And yet, the shaking of my hands continued. After I just got them under control! How fucking pathetic is that!?

Listen, I might know what the problem is…

"Oh really? Then by all means, please share with the rest of the class. We're just dying to hear your wisdom and insight," I said, voice dripping with sarcasm. But I didn't get the reaction I thought I would.

Right… So, don't be mad, but you were pretty much right earlier.

"What are you talking about?" I asked in confusion. I tried thinking back to earlier, but there were a lot of earliers to remember. Killing my first ogre, the Shadow Ogre Lair, all the other ogres I killed… When did I produce the insight into my current problem?

It was right after killing the first Shadow Ogre. You wondered about the brutal manner in which you killed him.

Oh right, I do remember wondering something about that. I was pretty confused, in all honesty. I normally don't take such pleasure in dishing out pain. Even when I was off my rocker for a while after grandad died, it was more to numb the pain than providing myself any amount of pleasure.

"Ok, but I don't remember exactly what I was thinking. Kinda busy at the time," I said.

Right. Well you were wondering just why you were feeling so festively violent, and you guessed, rather correctly, that it had something to do with the Dungeon itself.

"Ok, that explains that, but what does that have to do with me being overly emotional about dying? Not exactly itching to show the world that amount of vulnerability. Hell, I don't even want to see it in the mirror."

You see, the Red Ogre was the cause of the anger and bloodlust you were feeling, even if you didn't really notice it. Or at least, he was tied to it. When you killed him, it purified the area of that effect, so to speak. Once you were no longer under its influence, emotions you were no longer consciously suppressing came surging to the surface.

"In other words, the Area of Effect basically made me forget to suppress my fear of dying in favor of committing acts of violence. So when it was over, they came bursting to the surface because I wasn't actively forcing them down?"

Pretty much, yeah.

"Ok, that makes sense I guess. But wait, shouldn't I have been notified of something like that influencing me?" I asked with a growing amount of suspicion. It wouldn't be the first time System has withheld something from me.

I'm still a bit salty about the Stealth Skill.

I… Ok look, Area of Effects are not part of the current Game, at least not to my knowledge. So when I saw it, I decided to keep it to myself and observe. I was trying to find out where it came from.

"And did you find out anything?" I asked. Rather bitterly I might add.

It's possible an outside force is interfering.

"What kind of outside force?" I questioned, more curious than I wanted to admit. Having a Game System that actively worked against you was more than enough problems for my plate. As it was, I'm not sure I could finish it.

That's the million dollar question. Probably one of my coworkers…

"Co-you have coworkers?" I nearly shouted. "I thought you were some kind of advanced Ai thing sent to make my life a living hell." I could hear the System snort at that.

Well, sorry to disappoint. I'm more like an angel. A Valkyrie, technically.

"Wait, you mean like one from the Norse myths? The ones who take those who have died in battle to Valhalla?" I asked, my tone disbelieving. You can't blame me, can you? I never once thought about what my System could be, but a warrior angel wouldn't have broken the top 100.

Something like that. My sisters and I are tasked with selecting those brave souls who we believe would be capable of saving another world. Those who die a heroic death. And then we isekai them.

"Wait, you mean like me? Not to toot my own horn, but I died pretty bravely you know, but I don't remember being chosen by anybody…" I said, my mind a whirl at this new information. But if I was chosen by this so-called angel, then why was she such a pain in the ass?

Also, trying not to think about sharing my pervy mind with a woman. Is that why she's so pissed?

No, I don't care about your dirty, old man brain.

"Oh, that's good. Then wait… what is your problem with me?" And that was the crux of the matter. Just what did I do, in this life or the previous one, to warrant being treated like this? Like I was some sort a burden to be saddled with or gotten rid of.

It's… complicated.

"Well uncomplicate it," I said, with no room for argument.

Now's not really the best of times…

"Oh no, I don't think so. You literally said that time in this Dungeon didn't matter right? So that means we got all the time in the world. Unless you were lying about that too?"

No, that was true. Every hour spent in here is roughly one second in the real world.

"Great, so that means we got the time."

…I

…

*Sigh*

Fine. As you may have guessed, you were not chosen by me, but by one of my sisters. Normally, they would need your consent to transport you to another realm, but she somehow got clearance to bypass this rule. Probably a bored god or lazy clerical worker. Anyway…

I could feel the sweat drop rolling down my head. Was that all it took to disregard divine laws? A bored god or a lazy office worker? Seriously? What the hell is wrong with them?

When someone is chosen as a Champion, they are granted a special boon. A weapon, an ability, something like that. You, of course, were given the powers of The Gamer.

But The Gamer needs an administrator. It didn't used to be that way, but after a few of them went insane due to the Program making some weird decisions, it was decided that those with this particular power must have an overseer. Typically, this would be the one who chose you, but someone, who shall remain nameless, convinced the higher ups it was time for me to leave my… Uh, never mind that part.

System sounded pretty embarrassed about something, but what. Forced her to leave her… my eyes widened in realization. "You were a shut-in! Hahaha, that's hilarious!"

…Yes. I wasn't always, but…

Anyway, long story short, they forced me to become your administrator, and I may have taken out my frustrations on you. So, you know… my bad and all that.

There was something in her tone that made me stop laughing. Something that resounded deep in my soul. A sadness I recognized. My mind flashed back to a gravestone, my grandfather's name carved into it.

It was the same kind of sadness as that. The sorrow that follows you when someone you dearly love is taken from you. And considering how shitty I behaved after experiencing the same thing, I suppose I could forgive her.

"Alright. I know that isn't the whole reason. There's a story there, but I won't force you to tell it. I'll just wait until you're good and ready," I said, standing up. I had completely calmed down by now, and I was able to push the feelings back down into my stomach where they belong.

Probably not the healthiest way to deal with emotional problems, but at the moment, I didn't really give a fuck. I had other shit to worry about.

…Thanks

"No problem. Why don't we start over, hm? My name's Ushio. Ushio Tenma. What's yours?" I asked. The System was silent for a moment, before responding, in a lighter and relieved tone.

I suppose I should tell you my name, just so you don't come up with something stupid to call me.

Oh yeah, I was going to name her, wasn't I? Darn, I was thinking of something along the lines of Bobo. Oh well…

Remember it well human, for I am the mighty angel known as Sahariel!

"...Yeah, no. That doesn't work for me. How about I just call you Sarah?" I asked.

What!? No, my name is Sahariel. What kind of angel is named Sarah?

"You are Sarah," I said with a shit eating grin.

Grr…

"I think this is the start of a beautiful friendship. Don't you Sarah?"

That's it! Remember when you said you didn't want a harem? Well just for that, you're getting one with nothing but violent tomboys!

"Wait, what!? Come on Sahariel, I was just joking. I know they're my type and all, but I don't think I'll survive more than one! Have mercy!"