"You've gone and done it, Halo. I warned you. This is the last time. In your next life, stay away from my stuff. Bastard."
That was the last thing Halo heard before a bullet pierced through his skull. He had less time to react. Not even form a coherent thought.
Damnation of the Gods.
This was the game he died over. He could've gotten his own game if its release wasn't limited to a selected few globally. Worse, he had no idea who was in charge of the game's production.
But it meant something to him that nothing else could touch. He and his best friend had been turned into assassins at ten, right after their parents' death.
Eight years of that life, and this game was the only thing that made him feel even a little bit human. He saw himself in the hero.
As monstrous as he became, with many falling by his hand without so much as a flinch, Halo expected his own death sooner or later, but not by the hands of his best friend and definitely not because of a game.
But Halo understood him, at least partly. They were both damaged beyond fixing, and the loving friend he'd grown up with was gone.
Yet he found a strange peace in having it end by his best friend's hand. It seemed right somehow.
He'd always hoped to avenge his parents one day, but even that concern felt distant now. Despite everything between them, he trusted his best friend would see it through.
After all, he'd been dying anyway. After being poisoned on their last mission, he could feel his own life slowly fading away, and he wondered if his best friend had suspected it too, despite Halo never telling him.
Just like the game that destroyed them, everything collapsed into ruin.
But despite this, Halo found himself in a strange situation.
He was supposed to be dead, that much was certain. But not only was he breathing with his skin crawling and his eyes darting at a bronze screen in confusion, he was still alive.
The screen seemed burned into his retinas and consciousness, tracking his every glance and floating mere inches from his head no matter where he looked.
***
[ Congratulations, Awakened! Welcome to the Lost World.]
[ Name: Halo D. Tenebris
Title: Shadow of Death
Rank: Awakened
True ability: Death Clone - - - Description:
Flaw: Coldness
Only Sin: Death
Nemesis:?
—
Sin Fragments: 0/10
Dominant Skill: Agility
Clones: 0 ]
***
Halo had never been the one to be afraid. Even in his most dire situations, fear was nothing but a distant memory. But now… he couldn't help but tremble in his boots.
Not only was the screen before his eyes oddly familiar, but his surroundings also felt familiar. Just like the prologue from the game. Damnation of the Gods.
Before him spread a magnificent wilderness of towering trees with bark that shimmered when brushed against.
Even more haunting were the pale mushrooms that rose above the forest's green crown, their ghostly forms scattered across the landscape in overwhelming abundance.
The sun was distant but still glowed brilliantly. It was so far away that it looked barely the size of a coin.
This breathtaking sight, the strange atmosphere, was both sharp and warm. The reality of their predicament hit him with crushing weight.
Halo gulped and turned behind him to see a massive brick building.
He was able to approach this game three times, and the last led to his death. But if he was certain of something, then it would be the fact that he was somehow in the game, standing before the academy in which the players prepared themselves for the world.
He rubbed his forehead and slapped his cheek multiple times out of frustration.
There was no wound on his brow. That was the first thing he checked in his predicament.
He wore a black uniform with a high neck and long, puffed sleeves, resembling a hakama style.
He also had high, ankle-length black boots that were practical and military-inspired. Just like how all the NPCs were dressed in the prologue.
He felt his symmetrical features, long lashes, and thick eyebrows. His hair remained dirty-white with vivid red streaks, something that solidified his gene as a Tenebris. But how?
"I am very much alive. So what happened? Transmigrated into the game? Tsk."
Halo massaged his forehead for a moment and let out a sigh.
He wasn't superstitious, but he wasn't the kind of person to dwell much on the unknown, and after all, he understood the world he found himself in to some extent.
Halo glanced at the bronze translucent screen before his eyes, and all it took was a thoughtful command, and it disappeared.
This was a world ruled by gods, and worse, every corner of it was filled with monstrous creatures called Sinners. But he wasn't the kind to commit suicide. Despite his detached state, he still held on to some principles. He had to face this world head-on.
He might not know the specifics of this world, but he was certain of one thing… find safety first, assess his ability, then locate the hero.
They were all doomed by the hero's actions anyway, and the hero was his best chance of understanding how he'd ended up here and what was really going on.
If his memories served him right, he wasn't far from a populated land.
But something else loomed. What had he missed?
••••
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