Echo 2 – No Rest for the Damned. [12.0. Scarlet Requiem]
On November 26, 2024 By Fang Dokja In Arc 12. Scarlet Requiem
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Content and Trigger Warnings for the Story
This story contains the following themes and elements that some readers may find triggering or distressing:
1. Violence and Gore: Includes descriptions of graphic violence, injuries, blood, and death.
2. Betrayal and Psychological Manipulation: Close allies turning on each other, themes of mistrust, and emotional manipulation.
3. Power Imbalance and Abuse of Power: Overpowered characters exerting dominance and disregard for rules or fairness.
4. Threat of Death: Constant tension and life-or-death stakes, including threats of character death.
5. Depictions of Helplessness: Characters struggling against overwhelming odds or plot-related restrictions.
6. Dark Humor and Taunting: Sarcasm and mocking behavior amid life-threatening situations.
7. Graphic Violence: Descriptions of physical harm, including stabbing, beheading, blood, and other forms of bodily injury.
8. Death and Resurrection: Multiple instances of characters dying and resetting, with detailed descriptions of death scenes.
9. Psychological Manipulation and Experimentation: Themes of testing others’ limits and exploiting their weaknesses for study.
10. Emotional Detachment: Portrayal of a character showing little to no empathy during acts of violence or manipulation.
11. Dark Themes of Survival and Control: Exploration of power dynamics, breaking rules, and manipulating mechanics in a dystopian or “game” context.
12. Nonchalant attitudes toward violence and death – Frequent casual discussion of violent acts and deaths.
13. Potentially unsettling dynamics – Ambiguity in relationships that might border on unhealthy co-dependence.
14. Power imbalance in relationships – One character is portrayed as significantly stronger and more manipulative than others.
Trigger Warnings:
1. Graphic violence and depictions of harm – Mentions and implications of characters being killed repeatedly during resets.
2. Manipulation and emotional abuse – Discussions of sabotage, gaslighting, and torture as strategic tools within the story.
3. Political tension and power struggles – Intrigue and implied threats of violence related to political maneuvering.
4. Themes of existential questioning – Discussions of the cyclical and potentially endless nature of the resets and their psychological toll.
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Status: Draft #1
Last Edited: November 26, 2024
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The tension between the three of them was palpable, but Reine and Deon didn’t waste a second. Their eyes met in a brief but meaningful glance—no words were needed. They had been a tag-team for years, their synchronization bordering on telepathic when it came to dealing with annoying obstacles. And right now, Nagy, their best friend and eternal headache, was nothing but an obstacle.
In the blink of an eye, they moved. Deon, ever the assassin, vanished in a blur of speed, reappearing just behind Nagy with her dagger-like fingers poised for a clean, efficient one-shot kill. Reine, meanwhile, sidestepped and reappeared at Nagy’s left, his hands already weaving a complex web of glowing runes.
“Oh, you’ve gotta be shitting me—” Nagy didn’t even have time to finish the thought before the glowing sigils sprang to life around him, forming intricate chains of ice that snaked toward his limbs. His breath hitched as he realized Reine wasn’t going for his usual overpowered flashy destruction spells but rather crowd control. The bastard had pivoted to a restraining tactic.
“I can’t believe I’m saying this,” Nagy muttered through gritted teeth, eyes darting for an escape route, “but you two really need to get laid.”
“Shut up, Nagy!” Reine snapped, his voice laced with mock offense. “We’re literally doing you a favor. Nobody wants to deal with your ‘holier-than-thou’ Archbishop nonsense for the rest of the game. Just die and make it easy for us.”
“Yeah,” Deon growled from behind, her voice sharp as the knife she was about to metaphorically (or maybe literally) drive into his back. “The fewer of us competing for the heroine, the better.”
“You’re killing me over a fictional waifu?!” Nagy howled, his tone teetering between outrage and disbelief. He ducked just as Deon’s killing strike missed him by mere centimeters. Her dagger-like hand carved through the air with lethal precision, the sound of her strike slicing the wind chilling him to the bone.
Reine, ever the strategist, smirked. “It’s not about the waifu, Nagy. It’s about winning. You should know that by now. Anyway…” He flicked his wrist, and the glowing chains tightened around Nagy’s torso, pinning his arms. “Bye, buddy. It’s been real.”
“Oh, fuck this,” Nagy spat, his mind racing. His character was supposed to be powerful, but Deon’s stats were outright broken, and with Reine backing her up, this was rapidly devolving into a worst-case scenario. “I’m the goddamn game master! You can’t kill me in the tutorial zone, you psychopaths!”
Deon’s only response was to aim another killing blow, her fingers glowing with a deadly crimson aura.
Nagy’s eyes widened. “Wait, WAIT! TIMEOUT—!”
But just as Deon’s strike was about to land, something unexpected happened.
A deafening crack echoed through the air, followed by a blinding burst of golden light. A sharp gust of wind tore through the hilltop, forcing all three of them to halt their movements. Reine’s ice chains shattered into glittering fragments, while Deon instinctively leaped back, landing gracefully next to him.
“What now?” Reine muttered, his voice tense as he scanned the surroundings.
From the shimmering light emerged a figure—tall, regal, and oozing with the kind of untouchable arrogance that could only belong to someone absurdly overpowered. His hair was jet-black, his piercing golden eyes glowing faintly, and his long, flowing coat was embroidered with intricate patterns of light. He carried a massive greatsword that gleamed like molten gold, the weapon practically screaming main character energy.
“…Who the fuck is this?” Deon growled, her voice low, every muscle in her new overly muscular form tensed and ready for another fight.
Nagy, still sprawled on the ground and nursing his bruised pride, let out a weak laugh. “Oh, thank god. Reinforcements.”
Reine rolled his eyes. “Yeah, of course. Plot armor strikes again.”
The newcomer’s deep, commanding voice cut through the air like a blade. “Archbishop Velion, are you unharmed?”
Nagy scrambled to his feet, brushing off his robes dramatically. “Unharmed? Unharmed?! Do I look unharmed to you, Knight Captain Deus?” He gestured wildly to Reine and Deon. “These backstabbing traitors just tried to murder me in cold blood! Arrest them! Smite them! I don’t care—just do something!”
Knight Captain Deus didn’t even blink. His golden eyes swept over Reine and Deon, who stood side by side, their expressions unreadable. “The Archduke and the Archmage are to be considered allies of the Church, no matter their actions. However…” His gaze sharpened, and the faintest flicker of a smirk appeared on his lips. “I would advise against attempting another assassination, unless you wish to face the full might of the Crimson Church.”
Reine snorted. “Great. Another self-righteous prick.”
Deon, still eerily calm, muttered, “…Troublesome.”
Nagy, regaining his confidence, folded his arms and smirked at his so-called best friends. “See? This is why I’m the game master, you idiots. Plot armor, divine intervention, unkillable protagonist status—you cannot win.” He stepped closer, lowering his voice to a venomous whisper. “But, oh, I can’t wait to see you try. Game on, losers.”
Reine and Deon exchanged a look, their silent communication once again coming into play. This wasn’t over—not by a long shot.
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The air grew thick with tension again. Reine, ever the strategist, leaned back casually against the large tree. His arms crossed, eyes half-lidded, as though this entire mess were some sort of casual game night rather than a life-or-death battle. His lips curled upward into a mocking smile, but there was a glimmer of something dark in his eyes—curiosity, perhaps, as he watched Deon, the living embodiment of cold-blooded precision, step forward.
Deon didn’t need to speak to communicate. Her body language was everything: still, unnervingly calm, every muscle taut with lethal focus. The faint shimmer of her violet eyes seemed to burn through the very air, as if nothing in this world could distract her from her objective. Her silence was more menacing than any words, as it meant she was already calculating, already plotting her next move. Her gaze locked onto Knight Captain Deus.
Reine knew what Deon’s intentions were. She wasn’t emotionally invested in killing Nagy—no, not really. For her, it was simply about testing out her new form, testing her character’s skills and abilities. After all, her real-world abilities were locked out. This was all about learning the limits of the game, how far Nagy’s plot armor could stretch, and how easily she could exploit it. The best part? Nagy had made a fatal error—he’d given Deon the most overpowered stats of the entire party.
This would be fun.
“Deon,” Reine muttered, his voice barely a whisper, “Test the theory. See how far you can push it.”
Deon’s eyes didn’t flicker. She didn’t even acknowledge him. She didn’t need to. She was already moving, her body dissolving into a blur of motion. Her target was the newcomer, Deus—the annoying knight who had just ruined her plans for an easy kill on Nagy. The only thing in her mind now was elimination.
One moment, Deus stood tall and unwavering, his golden armor gleaming like an unholy beacon. The next moment, there was only the faintest disturbance in the air as Deon appeared behind him, a ghost in the wind.
“…What?” Deus muttered, his eyes narrowing, barely enough time to register her presence before she struck. His hand shot out, trying to reach for his sword in time, but it was too late.
Deon’s blade, which had materialized from thin air like a razor-sharp whisper, sliced through the air with inhuman speed. It was a perfect strike—her target hadn’t even had the time to blink before Deon’s blade was at his throat.
She didn’t hesitate, didn’t waste a moment on theatrics. There was no grand speech, no villainous monologue. Just cold, unfeeling action. The blade sliced across Deus’s neck with surgical precision, the sound of the metal cutting through his flesh was like a snap of thunder.
Deus’s eyes widened in shock. His body lurched forward, instinctively trying to stop the bleeding, but Deon’s strike was too precise, too quick. His glowing eyes dimmed slightly, and in that moment, he realized exactly who he was dealing with.
“Fucking hell.” Nagy hissed, barely able to process the chaos unfolding before him. He was no longer focused on his own survival but on keeping Deus alive long enough for the plot to even matter. “Stop her, Deus! Get your shit together!”
But Deus was already on the ground, his body barely able to function with the fatal wound Deon had delivered. His sword dropped from his hand as he struggled to breathe, his armor growing heavier with each passing second.
Reine, from his vantage point against the tree, shook his head slowly. “Man, you really fucked up this time, Nagy. I don’t think even you can save this one.”
The scene was pure chaos, and Nagy’s mind raced. His first instinct was to rush to Deus’s aid, to heal him, to do something—but that wasn’t going to work. Deus was already too far gone. Instead, he began channeling his own abilities, his magic shimmering in a desperate attempt to put a stop to Deon’s rampage.
“Deon, please!” Nagy barked, his voice fraying with desperation. “This is supposed to be a team effort! You can’t just kill everyone!”
Deon didn’t spare him a glance. Her focus was still on Deus, still watching as the knight slowly crumpled to the ground, defeated. Her heart was as stone-cold as ever. As ruthless as ever.
Reine, for his part, was completely unbothered. “Yeah, good luck with that,” he said lazily, watching the scene unfold with mild amusement. “I think you’ve missed the point, Nagy. Deon doesn’t care about your little game rules.”
“Fuck the game rules!” Nagy growled, pushing his character’s powers to their limits. “This isn’t how it’s supposed to be. You can’t just kill plot-important NPCs! This isn’t the point of the game!”
Deon didn’t respond. She simply stepped over Deus’s collapsing form, her shoes making not a sound on the ground. The blood on her blade gleamed in the moonlight, dark and thick. She didn’t waste a second longer; her eyes found Nagy.
“You’re next,” she whispered, and the words sent a shiver down his spine.
Nagy, already exhausted from the brutal display of power, swore under his breath. “I’m gonna fucking kill you.”
But Deon didn’t care. She had already won. The power was hers. The game was already broken.
Reine lazily stretched out, cracking his knuckles. “You know, Nagy, you always say you’re the game master, but… you sure are bad at managing the game.”
Deon’s gaze didn’t leave Nagy. A moment of silence passed, stretching out like an eternity, and then the inevitable happened—she launched herself at him, her movements smooth and fluid, just as deadly as before.
“Shit.” Nagy swore, his heart pounding in his chest.
But this time, he wasn’t sure if there was anything left to stop her.
As Deon’s dagger plunged toward his chest, the fight wasn’t about winning anymore—it was about survival.
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Deon’s dagger pierced Nagy’s heart in a swift motion, a flawless strike that would’ve ended anyone else. Her eyes followed the trail of blood as it splattered, the sharp, sickening crack as the life left his body, his face contorting in an expression of shock before it turned slack.
There was no satisfaction, no pleasure in the kill—Deon didn’t work like that. Instead, her mind immediately shifted gears, processing the implications of her actions. The cold silence around her was almost suffocating, broken only by Nagy’s form crumpling to the ground.
And then, just as quickly as it all began, the world around her shifted.
A flash of light.
The scene reset.
Nagy was back in his place, unscathed, alive, as if nothing had happened. Deon didn’t even blink, her gaze already turning toward Reine. She caught his eye, and he simply sighed in irritation.
“Not surprised,” Deon muttered, speaking aloud for the first time in what felt like ages. Her voice was blunt, calculated, her tone far from emotional. “This confirms it.”
Reine, his posture slouched against the tree, looked up at her with a raised eyebrow, no longer surprised by her coldness, yet still irritated. “Confirm what exactly?”
“Simple,” Deon continued, crossing her arms over her chest. “If players die, the game resets. NPCs don’t matter, but players? We don’t die here.” She glanced over at Deus, who, despite the near-fatal injury from earlier, stood there as if nothing had changed. “See? NPCs don’t retain memories after a reset. Deus here doesn’t even remember his neck was nearly severed.”
Reine glanced at Deus and then back at Deon, nodding in reluctant agreement. “You’ve got a point. So, this game does have some weird ass mechanics. What does that mean for—”
Before Reine could finish his thought, Deon moved again—faster than he could react. With a swift motion, she sliced his head clean off his shoulders.
Reine’s eyes widened just before his body fell limp, blood pouring from his neck, a perfect cut.
Deon didn’t even flinch. She simply stood there, her expression unchanging as Reine’s head hit the ground with a soft thud.
“Fucking hell, Deon!” Nagy’s voice screeched in irritation. “What the fuck is wrong with you?!”
“Point proven,” Deon said matter-of-factly, her cold tone cutting through the absurdity of the situation. “Players retain memories after a reset. I’ll bet anything the Game Master does too.”
Reine’s body slumped, but his head was still clearly conscious, his expression a mix of shock and fury. The reset had come again, as it always did, returning them all to the standoff position they’d been in before Deon’s kill.
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
“That was fucked up,” Reine’s voice echoed, his eyes still wide, but this time a little more wary. “Seriously, Deon? You could’ve just said it.”
Deon shrugged, her eyes flicking to Nagy, who was gritting his teeth, visibly furious. But she wasn’t done. “You saw it, didn’t you? The reset. Deus doesn’t remember dying. That’s how I know NPCs can’t retain memories. But you,” she shot a glance at Nagy, “You’re different. You’re a Player too. And yet you remember everything.”
Nagy’s face twitched in frustration. “Don’t fucking test me, Deon.”
“Test you?” Deon’s voice was low and calculating. “I’m testing the game. The mechanics. Your power. It’s obvious, Nagy. You’re the Game Master—you hold the plot armor. You have the advantage. I’m just making sure I understand how far I can push it.”
Reine, now reanimated from his recent beheading, shook his head, a sour expression on his face. “This is some fucked up shit, man. You really had to kill me to prove your little theory?”
“Shut up, Reine,” Deon said, her voice sharp and unyielding. “You’ve never liked being proven wrong, but at least now you know where you stand in the food chain.”
Reine scoffed, rubbing his neck where it had been severed. “You really need to chill, Deon. You’re like, way too into this.”
Deon ignored him. She was busy processing everything she had just learned. “The game’s mechanics are flawed. There’s no way they’d let a Game Master retain memories but not the Players. Which means there’s some sort of ‘auto-save’ feature for the GM. Probably so he can adjust the storyline, make sure we don’t break the game.” She turned to Nagy, giving him a pointed look. “I bet you’re able to load from a checkpoint at any time, huh? It explains why you’re always one step ahead.”
Nagy’s jaw clenched. “You really don’t know when to stop, do you?”
Deon smiled, a cold, humorless smile that made Reine shiver. “You know, I’m getting the feeling this game is a lot less about winning and more about survival. And you,” she said, her gaze locking onto Nagy, “You’re going to be a problem for me.”
“Fuck you,” Nagy spat, but his expression flickered. He knew exactly where Deon was coming from. She wasn’t playing by the rules. And that? That made her more dangerous than anything he had to offer.
Reine, still rubbing his neck, snorted. “And to think we could’ve had a nice, peaceful game night. But no. We’re stuck in some death trap with a psycho who tests everything like it’s a damn science experiment.”
“Shut it, Reine,” Deon snapped, her eyes narrowing. “I’m not done yet.”
Reine shook his head. “Yeah, yeah. You’re testing theories, I get it. But seriously, fuck you for making me the test subject.”
Deon ignored his ranting and focused on the larger picture. There were still too many unanswered questions, too many mechanics left unexplored. But she was getting closer. And every reset, every kill, brought her one step closer to figuring out how to break this game wide open.
If she could figure out how far Nagy’s influence went, then maybe, just maybe, she could escape this nightmare.
“Don’t worry,” she muttered to herself, “I’ll figure it out. I always do.”
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The air was thick with tension, the forest still and silent. Deon stood there, motionless as ever, her cold, calculating eyes fixed on Nagy. He was breathing heavily, sweat beading on his forehead. He was starting to look desperate. And that was exactly how Deon wanted him to look.
“Ready for round five?” she asked, her voice a flat monotone, devoid of any real emotion. Her words cut through the tension like a blade, sharp and clinical.
Nagy gritted his teeth, glancing briefly at Deus, who was still standing at a distance, watching with his arms folded. “You’re seriously testing everything, huh? Can you just stop already? I’m not your fucking training dummy!”
Deon didn’t reply. She simply tilted her head, considering the statement, before her expression shifted to something almost calculating. Her hand moved, and a shadow flickered across her face as she activated one of her abilities.
“Dagger of Deception,” she muttered under her breath, her voice barely audible. In an instant, a glimmering blade appeared in her hand, but it wasn’t just any weapon—it was a ghostly replica of her own dagger, shifting between reality and illusion. She didn’t even flinch as the blade streaked toward Nagy, slicing through the air.
But Nagy was fast—he managed to dodge, but just barely. His foot skidded across the ground as he barely avoided the ethereal blade. But Deon wasn’t done.
“Missed.” She smirked faintly, her voice cold, but with a hint of dark amusement. She wasn’t giving him a chance to retaliate. This was a test, a simple test of her abilities, nothing more.
Deon flicked her wrist again. “Shadow Bind.”
The ground beneath Nagy’s feet cracked and shifted, dark tendrils of shadow bursting from the earth like claws. They shot out, wrapping around his legs with inhuman speed. In a heartbeat, they pulled tight, binding him to the ground.
“Shit!” Nagy cursed under his breath, his face twisting in frustration. “What the fuck is this?!”
Reine, standing nearby, finally spoke up, his tone amused but tinged with annoyance. “Honestly, I thought you’d put up more of a fight, Nagy. You’re supposed to be the ‘game master,’ right? You’re the one with the plot armor, or at least, you should have it.”
Nagy snarled, struggling against the shadows that were holding him in place, but Deon’s grip was unyielding. His usual cocky demeanor was faltering, and it wasn’t lost on Deon. This was just another confirmation that her character, the so-called “most powerful villain,” was indeed overpowered.
Deon didn’t take her eyes off Nagy. She was testing, observing, calculating. The more she did this, the more she learned about the mechanics of the game, and more importantly, about Nagy’s weaknesses. “I’m not impressed,” she said simply.
With one swift motion, she drew another ability—this one cold and precise. “Frozen Judgement.” The air around them grew suddenly colder, a deathly chill settling in as the temperature dropped. Within moments, jagged ice spouted from the ground, encasing Nagy’s legs in a thick, shimmering prison.
Nagy’s eyes widened as his body froze in place. “Fucking hell!” he growled, trying to break free with all his might, but the ice held fast, leaving him completely immobilized. “This isn’t fair!”
Deon stared at him for a moment, her expression unreadable. “It’s not about being fair, Nagy. It’s about learning. The more you struggle, the more I learn.”
She slowly walked around him, her footsteps echoing in the stillness. She was methodical, almost detached, as if analyzing every possible way she could further exploit her abilities. “You don’t get it, do you? This is nothing compared to what I can do.”
Nagy, still struggling against the ice, glared at her with an intensity that could’ve burned through steel. “You think you can break me? You think you can just test your theories and come out on top every time? I’ll find a way to fight back, you piece of shit.”
Deon paused, a glint of amusement flashing in her cold, calculating eyes. “I’m counting on it.”
And then, without warning, she disappeared into the shadows, vanishing completely from Nagy’s view. He didn’t have time to react before a blade appeared at his throat—Deception again, this time appearing as a silent, untraceable phantom strike.
His throat burned from the touch, and blood seeped out before he managed to jerk his head back in time to avoid being fully decapitated. But the message was clear: I can kill you in every possible way.
Reine, watching from the sidelines, sighed dramatically. “This is taking forever, Deon. You don’t need to kill him like twenty times. We’re just trying to figure out how this all works.”
Deon reappeared in front of Nagy, crouching to his level. Her gaze was as cold as steel, her expression unamused. “You think I’m just killing him?” she asked flatly. “I’m studying him. Every move he makes, every failure, every weakness. This is about finding the loopholes.”
Nagy, still struggling against the ice, hissed. “You’re insane.”
Deon tilted her head slightly, considering his words. “Insane?” She allowed herself a small, cold smile. “Maybe. But that’s not the point. The point is—this game has flaws. And I intend to find every single one of them.”
With another flick of her wrist, the ice around Nagy shattered, leaving him free. He stumbled slightly, trying to regain his balance, but Deon was already moving. “Crimson Lash.”
A crimson tendril shot out, wrapping around Nagy’s chest, tightening and pulling him up into the air as if he weighed nothing.
“You know,” Deon mused, her voice quieter this time, almost thoughtful, “I wonder how many times I’ll need to reset this game to make it all come crashing down. How many loops, how many kills, until the mechanics finally break?”
Nagy’s eyes burned with frustration, but he was clearly running out of answers, out of ways to resist. “You can’t keep doing this,” he spat. “It’s not just about breaking the game, you fucking psycho. There’s a heroine in this story, too. And guess what? She’s gonna win in the end.”
Deon’s lips curled slightly, but her expression remained cold, almost indifferent. “I’ll deal with the heroine when I get there. Right now, I’m testing theories. And you’re my perfect guinea pig.”
She flicked her wrist again, and this time, it wasn’t just a weapon. It was a series of flashes, each one a new way of testing the limits of her character. Each one, a new method of deconstructing Nagy’s so-called “plot armor.”
Reine rubbed his temples, still leaning against the tree. “I’m just gonna watch you break him down for the next hour, huh?”
Deon didn’t respond. She was too busy studying, too busy experimenting. And Nagy, well, he was too busy realizing that Deon wasn’t going to stop until she had the answers she wanted.
This game? It wasn’t about winning. It was about finding the right way to break it. And for Deon, that was the most interesting part.
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The million and one resets felt like they had lasted an eternity, but Deon didn’t mind. After all, it was the perfect opportunity to truly understand her character’s capabilities. She flexed her fingers lazily, her eyes scanning the horizon as she turned toward Reine, who had been watching her with a bored expression for what felt like hours.
“Well, guess that’s about enough, huh?” Deon muttered, still in her usual monotone. “The resets really are infinite, it seems. Too bad there’s no achievement system for this. I should’ve unlocked something for hitting the million mark. You’d think they’d reward me for that level of dedication.” She shrugged, her shoulders giving a lazy roll.
Reine let out an exaggerated sigh, clearly more amused by the whole thing than anything else. “Yeah, imagine—’Achievement Unlocked: Resets Champion,’” he mocked, slumping back against the nearest tree and flashing her a grin. “Would’ve been worth it, right?”
Deon half-smirked but said nothing more. Nagy’s grumbling form was still fresh in her mind, clearly on the verge of snapping. After all, it wasn’t exactly fun to be sliced into a thousand pieces by an overpowered villain every other minute, no matter how many times you reset.
It was around that time that Nagy, visibly on the brink of losing his composure, finally decided to cut the nonsense short. Without another word, he summoned a portal, and before anyone could even blink, he and Deus disappeared from the area, the air in their wake crackling with the power of their escape.
“Let him go,” Deon said, with a calm finality that only Reine could read properly. Her eyes flicked toward the now empty clearing where Nagy and Deus had been standing moments ago. “He’s not worth it. Besides, I got all the data I needed.”
Reine, stretching lazily, quirked an eyebrow. “You’re seriously telling me you’re done now? After all that?” He let out a low whistle, his tone one of mock admiration. “Guess you really took a million resets to just figure out how to wreck the game, huh?”
Deon gave a short, humorless chuckle, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Well, it’s a start,” she said nonchalantly. “The more important part now is figuring out why my character actually fails in the end. Even I can’t be that broken without a catch, right?” She leaned against the trunk of the tree, crossing her arms, lost in thought.
Reine, ever the sharp observer, smirked and crossed his arms too. “Wait, so you’re actually talking to me about this? Why? Normally you’d just solo the whole damn thing, leave me in the dust. What’s going on here?”
Deon turned her head toward him, her expression as neutral as ever. “Guess I’m feeling generous today,” she replied dryly, “and besides, I’ve got two main plans for this game. Not everything is as simple as kicking butt and calling it a day. I mean, sure, that’s what I could do… but I’ve got a feeling we’re being played, and I want to figure out why.”
Reine didn’t seem to mind the new dynamic. “Oh? Do tell, then. What exactly is going on in that brain of yours?”
Deon didn’t skip a beat, leaning forward, the flicker of excitement in her eyes barely perceptible. “Well, Plan A is pretty simple. I’ll help you get your happy ending. It’s not like you don’t know how to make women fall for you anyway.” She gave him a dry glance, her lips curling just slightly. “You’re the playboy. You know how to seduce. Me? My character is just the overpowered psycho yandere who doesn’t even know the first thing about romance. Not my style, Reine. Plus, I don’t have the time to pretend to be interested in whatever fluffy heartstrings the game wants me to pull.”
Reine grinned, unfazed. “Oh, don’t worry, princess. I’m more than qualified to get anyone to fall for me. Anyone. You’ve seen me work, right? I’ll have those girls wrapped around my finger in seconds.”
Deon rolled her eyes but didn’t comment. “That’s the idea, though,” she said, giving a short, dismissive wave of her hand. “If I help you, I’ll at least have one solid chance at an ending… While I eliminate the other competitors. I can sabotage others, gaslight, or even torture the heroine into falling for you. It’s all about eliminating options. It’s not pretty, but hey—whatever works.”
Reine made a face, before laughing. “Good God, Deon. You’re fucking scary sometimes. Torture? Really? Isn’t that a little… extreme for a romance game?”
Deon just smirked, as if it were no big deal. “It’s not about torture, it’s about manipulation. It’s also an RPG game, not just an otome game. Who cares about being nice? Besides, we all know you’re the expert at getting people to fall for you. I’m just here to clear the way. You know, make things easier.”
Reine didn’t respond, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—something between disbelief and admiration. He leaned back again, his hands in his pockets, clearly amused by her unwavering confidence. “You know, this whole plan of yours is… weirdly well thought out. Even if it’s morally questionable, I gotta admit, it makes sense.”
Deon barely reacted. “It’s not about morality. It’s about efficiency.”
She paused, her eyes flicking towards the sky, as though considering her next words carefully. “Now, Plan B is a little more complex. You see, something doesn’t sit right with me. My character… This ‘Archduke’ is clearly meant to be overpowered, right? He’s the ‘big bad,’ the character everyone is supposed to fear. Yet somehow, he’s the one who gets defeated in the end. That doesn’t add up. There has to be something that causes his downfall. Some flaw. Something outside of ‘plot armor.’”
She rubbed her chin thoughtfully. “Maybe it’s connected to the heroine. There’s always some kind of power struggle between the love interests, but there’s more to this game than meets the eye. If my character’s truly this broken, there’s gotta be a weakness somewhere. Something I’m missing.”
Reine smirked again. “You’re really obsessed with figuring out how to break the game, huh? Fine by me, I guess. So what’s the next step? We keep screwing with Nagy some more, or do you actually wanna work with me for a change?”
Deon just glanced at him, a hint of amusement breaking through her usually stoic expression. “For now, I think Plan A is more feasible.” She shrugged. “You don’t need me to help you seduce the heroine. You’ve got it under control.”
Reine laughed, leaning back and stretching. “Well, aren’t we a match made in hell? But yeah, I guess we do have a pretty good shot at this, with your plans and my… charm.”
“Don’t let it go to your head,” Deon replied flatly, but the smallest smile tugged at her lips.
It was only the beginning, but Deon already felt confident. Whatever this game threw at them, she’d be ready.
═════════════════
The sun was starting to dip low over the horizon as Deon and Reine walked side by side down the well-worn path toward the imperial capital. The bustling roads, lined with merchants and adventurers, felt oddly quiet compared to the chaos of the resets they had endured earlier. But there was no rush now. No need to hurry. They were in no real danger, not with Deon’s overpowered character and the fact that they’d already put the game’s mechanics to the test a thousand times over.
Reine, of course, wasn’t in any hurry. He flashed Deon a grin, the playful glint in his eyes obvious even in the fading light. “Hey, Dollface, you better not get too jealous when I flirt with the heroine, okay? I know you’ve got that thing for me,” he teased, his tone light, but there was an unmistakable edge of fondness behind his words.
Deon didn’t even bother looking at him, instead continuing to walk with her usual detached indifference. “Reine, you know I don’t care,” she muttered, rolling her eyes as if it were the most tired conversation in the world. “Flirt with whoever you want. I’m still going to be the one winning this game.”
Reine chuckled, making a show of exaggerating a hurt look, hand over his chest. “Ouch. You wound me, Doll. I thought maybe you’d get a little jealous, you know? All those women falling for my charm.”
Deon gave him a side glance, her lips curling into a small, bemused smile. “Yeah, and I’m sure they’ll all fall for your charm,” she drawled, unconcerned. “I think you’ve got that covered.”
A beat passed, and then Reine burst out laughing, shaking his head. “I swear, you’re impossible. It’s like nothing ever phases you. I don’t even get why I bother anymore.”
“Oh, I get it,” Deon said, shrugging as she glanced at him, the casual words rolling off her tongue. “You do it to get a reaction. It’s cool. But don’t waste your time. I’m just not interested in that whole romance nonsense.” She flicked a finger at the air, dismissing the subject entirely as she adjusted her stance.
Reine didn’t argue. Instead, he let out a light snort and ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah, well, Nagy’s probably pissed off at us right about now. Especially with you,” he added, clearly entertained by the thought. “I can’t imagine he’s in the best mood after you killed him like that. Every time he comes back, he’s gotta be seething. Can you hear it? ’I’ll get you for this, Deon! I swear!’”
Deon let out a faint chuckle, her expression softening just a little. “I think it’s funny, actually. You know he’s gonna try and get back at us eventually. And I’ll be ready when he does. But right now, we’ve got bigger things to worry about.”
Reine raised an eyebrow, curious. “Oh? And what’s that?”
Deon gave him a sidelong glance, her expression unreadable. “I’ve got to head back to my dukedom soon. Assess the resources, the networks, and maybe make sure my people aren’t causing too much trouble while I’m away.” Her tone grew more serious, the edge of thought creeping into her voice. “Plus, I’m going to have to deal with the aftermath of attacking Nagy. You know he’s a royal advisor, right? Archbishop, too. I’ve basically just kicked a hornet’s nest.” She sighed, rubbing the back of her neck. “Politically, things are going to get messy. I can just threaten people with my strength, sure, but I need to handle this more… delicately.”
Reine snickered. “Delicately? You? Really? You’re the last person I’d expect to go the diplomatic route.” He grinned and nudged her with his elbow. “What’s next? A little tea party with the royals? I’m sure they’ll love you.”
Deon shot him a deadpan look but didn’t say anything more. Her mind was already working through strategies, planning her next moves with cool precision. “If I can turn this attack into something useful, then it’ll have been worth it. You’re right about one thing, though,” she continued, her voice low and thoughtful. “It’s going to be a mess.”
Reine, meanwhile, was too busy stifling his laughter to respond immediately. “Well, you know I’m here for the drama. And Nagy’s going to make sure we’re all caught in it.” He grinned, looking at her with an expression that only he could wear—half mockery, half admiration. “But you—you’ll handle it like always, right? Just show up, flex, and let them all cower before you. You’ve got this, Doll.”
Deon didn’t respond. She just continued walking, a faint smile playing at the corners of her mouth as she contemplated the situation. She wasn’t sure why, but Reine’s words had a way of making her feel more… confident, even if she wouldn’t admit it.
As they continued down the path, Reine’s teasing started again, but this time, it was a little different. He turned toward her, the usual playful grin gone, replaced by something softer, more serious.
“I love you, you know that, right?” he said, his voice unexpectedly gentle, yet carrying the weight of years of friendship between them.
Deon didn’t flinch at his words, though the sudden sincerity in his voice caught her off guard. She looked at him, eyes briefly flickering with something unreadable before she responded in her usual way. “I love you too, Reine,” she said, the words coming out easily, comfortably.
There was a pause, the air between them warm with the shared sentiment, before Deon extended her hand toward him—her fingers relaxed but expectant. It was a gesture they’d both shared countless times over the years, both in and out of the game. Back when they were just kids, it had meant something entirely different, but here, in this moment, it was just as natural.
There was no need for anything more. He was her best friend, and she was his. No need to complicate it with words or expectations. After all, they’d known each other for far too long to need anything more than that unspoken bond between them.
Still, as Deon reached out her hand—long fingers outstretched, a gesture that had been so familiar to them both since childhood—Reine’s smile softened. Even in their different in-game appearances, even in the absurdity of this world they were playing in, the familiarity of that simple gesture never failed to ground them both.
Deon’s in-game character was tall, muscular, and absurdly handsome. It was a far cry from her real-world self—slender, almost ghostly, with an appearance that never quite fit in. Reine, on the other hand, was leaner and more unassuming than his usual playboy persona, the glasses and nerdy vibes making him look almost comical in comparison to the muscular, handsome figure he was used to.
But none of that mattered. They had always been themselves in the presence of the other. The body didn’t define who they were to each other.
Reine, without hesitation, reached out and clasped her hand in his, his grin returning, but this time with a softness that only she would ever see.
He chuckled, his usual bravado returning in full force. “I swear, I’ll get you jealous one day, Doll. Just you wait.”
Deon rolled her eyes, but there was no real heat behind it. She simply shook her head, the familiar comfort of their routine settling in.
“Sure, Reine. Keep dreaming,” she said, her voice light, but she didn’t pull away. She didn’t need to.
In that moment, despite everything—despite the mess of the game, the politics, and the inevitable chaos they were bound to face—there was only this. Her and Reine, in their own little world, walking toward whatever came next.
And for now, that was enough.