7thebadguy
Everyone knows how the story ends.
The villain rises, the hero triumphs, and destiny plays out the way it was written.
But when I opened my eyes inside the body of Lord Kaelith-the tyrant of the RPG I used to play-I realized something was wrong. The script was a prison. My death was inevitable.
Unless I broke it.
The villagers expected fire. I gave them mercy. The chosen hero expected a monster. I gave him doubt. With every choice, I tore the story further from its rails... and the system fought back.
Because the world itself isn't just code-it's alive. And it doesn't want its villain rewriting the ending.
Now I'm staring down destiny with a stolen army, a hesitant hero at my side, and a smile sharp enough to cut through fate itself.
They wrote me to fall.
But I've decided-I'll be the one holding the pen.