This isn’t a story about being reborn and becoming a hero amongst heroes. We’ve all read those cookie-cutter plots before and they don’t make it to the bestsellers list lately. Damn you discerning, cynical readers!

The reincarnated hero. A figure of pure power, limitless potential but really, really shitty luck. Who by some unkind twist of fate, and prerequisite for any novel, suddenly falls before his time.

Backstabbed. Betrayed. He’s forced into an inescapable experience to suffer a premature death. With his last breath, dying but not quite dead enough; he stands towering over the traitors and swears revenge. That he would someday return to set right all the wrongs done to him, and his.

Then, by some divine fate, and an extremely convenient plot device, his dying wish comes true. He turns back the hands of time. He returns. Reborn, for revenge. And of course – is OPed as hell.

Armed with foresight and knowledge of the future, he has a cheat sheet for life. He knows the exact perfect thing to do, at the exact perfect time.

Our hero becomes even more than he was, more than he could ever be in his first life. He gains powers beyond his and your (but not the writer’s because we’re smart like that) imaginations. Just barely overcoming struggle after struggle, foe after foe, to truly become a hero amongst heroes.

My story; is different. It’s a story is about becoming a villain, so that a hero amongst heroes can stay a hero. Preferably a live hero too.

____________

Yes, granted, the betrayal, backstabbing and multiple premature deaths; that still happened. Hard to argue that point while I’m lying on the ground with countless pointy swords stuck into me. But hey, it’s just a game, right?

Avalon, the game, to be specific. The mythical isle was the setting for my world’s first totally immersive Virtual Reality Gaming World. People from all walks of life donned VR gear to conquer quests, monsters and battles alike, for the chance to earn a seat at the Round Table.

And of course, to become filthily, fucking rich. Wait, what?

See, what started off as a simple VR game took things to a whole new, darker level of morbid entertainment. Avalon became the modern gladiator coliseum. People paid money to watch players fight to the death. Yes, to the death.

There were two game modes, Casual and Lifeline. Casual was, well, casual like any other game you can buy off the shelf. You paid your monthly subscription fees, killed stuff, earned stuff and levelled stuff up. Then, you logged out and went on with your life. Assuming you had one, that is.

Lifeline mode, whereas, came with free upgrade; a tiny microchip installed at the base of your skull and a not so tiny indemnity form to sign. Everything you earn ingame, you can take with you to the real world.

The catch? That microchip simulated 100% of all physical experiences you felt in Avalon. If you died in Avalon; you died in real life too. Crazy right? Who’d the hell would to play and participate in this insanity?

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Fun fact: At the very core of human nature lies our insatiable greed for more and an immeasurable delight in violence. Dormant, just waiting to be awakened and pounce on you. Sorta like dad abruptly yelling mid-snore, “I was watching that!” when you turn off the TV.

And awaken it was exactly what Avalon did.

The real world was in a shit state, battling overpopulation and a collapsing global economy. All it took was greasing some high levelled officials’ palms to kickstart the virtual coliseum of death.

It made total sense after all! Why spend good money keeping bad criminals alive, when you can make awesome money selling the viewership rights to watch them fight to death? It was population control and an efficient use of death row inmates. That was exactly how Avalon’s creators pitched and sold the idea to the world’s governments.

No one will judge you, they were going to die anyway! Sending the criminals to Lifeline Mode was doing them a favour. This way they would at least be semi-useful to society and stand a chance to earn winnings for their family and loved ones.

Everything just snowballed from there, and soon Lifeline mode was opened to volunteers. It became one final beacon of hope to society’s most broken and desperate. People with nothing to lose rushed to take on the biggest gamble they could ever make.

Win and walk away with everything. Lose - well you had nothing any way.

But who would watch it? Everyone.

The people of our world lived to indulge in scandals, debauchery and drama; from a safe distance, of course. Avalon was a whole new intoxicating cocktail of violence, betrayal and death that stimulated our baser instincts into an addictive high. People fucking died while we watched from the safety of our couches. How cool was that!

It became the ultimate entertainment industry.

Top Lifeline players became celebrities of their own right. Die-hard fans who didn’t want to die, lived their cowardly lives and fantasies for glory through Avalon’s elites’ death battles and triumphs.

It escalated so quickly, that even stardom-hungry younglings chose Avalon as a platform to get noticed. For fame and fortune; the chance to be a somebody. Even if they died trying, it would be still glorious while it lasted.

______________

Which bring me back to this very moment. Here and now, where I lie dying, rather ingloriously drawing my last breath in Avalon’s Lifeline mode. Not too far from me lies a puddle of blood and gory gunk; formerly known as Lancelot before being minced into a burger patty. 

Lancelot. My master. My saviour. My Lancelot.

King Arthur’s perfect knight and most trusted aide.

The Adulterer. The Betrayer. The Kingdom Killer.

When Lancelot’s deep, dark secret was ‘discovered’, it had torn the Kingdom apart. He was accused of screwing Queen Guinevere, leading to a civil war that, in turn, screwed the whole of Avalon as well.

But it was all a set up and a horrible lie. Sure, Lancelot had her deep, dark secret. But only I knew it. I guess, now, you do too. Yes, Lancelot was a woman. And trust me, she was most definitely not into other women, let alone that stuck-up fat cow of a Queen.

So, my cycle of death and rebirth began right there. And continued till now.

I’d try to do the right thing to save Lancelot. To make her brother knights understand her by planting the seeds of loyalty, honour and trust by appealing to the better side of human nature. To dispel the rumours and keep Lancelot alive.

Then, I’d fail miserably, no matter what or how hard I tried. They’d still turned on and kill her, claiming she did not deserve to live for betraying Arthur and all of Avalon. This life, out of desperation, I had even told them that Lancelot was a woman. Excitement about girl-on-girl action aside, nothing changed and a few minutes later, burger patty.

Then, everything would be reset again to the very first day Lancelot and I started playing Avalon.

This time, I finally realised something. It wasn’t that they believed Lancelot was dishonourable and deserved to die. They just wanted Lancelot to die. The scandal with Guinevere was just a convenient excuse.

This time, I’ll return, not to become some great hero. Or to save Lancelot.

It will be as a villain amongst villains, so my hero, stays a hero.

It will be as the Hidden Blade; Mordred.