The video game was set 2,000 years into the future, a time when Earth had undergone extreme and turbulent changes—so overwhelming that the planet became unrecognizable. The final world war, one that shaped the next millennium, left behind more than just a wasteland. Nearly all life was obliterated. Earth's technology had advanced so rapidly that scientists discovered a way to harness scalar energy for advanced weaponry. The creation of the scalar bomb—a devastating weapon capable of releasing energy at an unfathomable speed of 100,000 per hour—altered the world in ways no one could have foreseen. What wasn't expected, however, was that the energy from these bombs would mutate into radiation. Those unfortunate enough to be caught in the blast, instead of perishing, mutated in an unforeseen way. Their IQs skyrocketed to 250 overnight. In the past, such intelligence would have been considered profoundly gifted. After the war ended, these newly super-intelligent humans sought ways to heal the planet. With only 3.5 billion survivors left, they needed long-lasting solutions. During their search, they discovered that the scalar energy from the bombs had ruptured a hole in space itself, unlocking a portal to another dimension. On the other side, they found a plane of existence brimming with an energy so awesomely vibrant and saturated with dimensional mana that they named it the Dimensional Aether Realm. Even a mere fragment of this Aether Essence—energy from a distinct plane of existence—was enough to restore Earth, returning it to a state beyond its former prime.
That was the good news. The bad news? The dimension was inhabited by hordes of monstrously powerful entities. Called Aether beasts and Umbralfiends. The moment they discovered the portal, they descended upon Earth like an unending waterfall of destruction. For the first time in history, humanity—long divided by war, envy, and petty grievances—was forced to unite against a common enemy. But even with their combined efforts, the technology they once deemed sophisticated proved utterly useless. The creatures of the Umbral Abyss were beings of pure, unadulterated darkness and magic. No conventional weaponry, no matter how advanced, could so much as scratch the weakest among them. Then, something happened that no one could have anticipated. The vast dimensional energy—now known as Aether Essence—seeped into our world, drowning it in newfound power. What was once merely called origin essence evolved into a force of existence itself.
As humans absorbed this Stellar energy they unlocked extraordinary, supernatural abilities—awakened by the very energy that now defined the new world. Since every human soul is unique, the manifestation of this power was deeply personal, taking myriad forms. Wielding these abilities, humanity fought back. People who chose to combat these atrocious monsters were named Umbral Hunters.
Now, 2000 years later, the Earth is relatively peaceful. A small fragment of humanity has control and possesses these superhuman powers through their connection to the energy. Despite all of the benefits Stellar energy brought, there were also major problems. The vast otherworldly energy, both a miracle and a curse for humanity, deeply weakened the shroud barriers guarding our world, causing the Stellar Realm to gradually merge with our own plane. Presently, hundreds of Aetherial dimensions, rifts to that other plane, appear around the Earth daily, sometimes every few days, each one connecting to the stellar realm.
Even now though we have the means to retaliate and defend ourselves, the planet wasn't in immediate danger. … For the time being. "In truth, everything was on the brink of transformation in just a few years. No, in fact, it seems the shifts had already begun, but the ruling council had kept it hidden from everyone." The game's central narrative unfolds at Lucem Ferimus Academy where Nathaniel Brightmore, the protagonist, earns a spot after achieving the highest score on the entrance exam. At the academy, he finds rivals, forges alliances, and bonds with individuals who will become loyal lasting companions. However, by the game's conclusion, most of these relationships end in tragedy, with many either perishing or betraying humanity altogether.
The real problem with this game isn't just how challenging it is, but that even the main characters aren't shielded by any form of plot armor. In some storylines, the protagonist himself actually dies. How does that even happen?! The video game has absolutely zero room for happy endings—precisely above all, for a villain like me. sigh. From this, The problem wi th this game isn't that it's merely tough, but it's that even the main characters don't have any plot armor. The Bloodbath during the Field Trip, the Corrupting Tides of the Azure Sea, the murder of the royal twins, and the invasion of the Ascendant Isles—these are just a few of the many catastrophes that lie ahead.
And that's just in the academy arc. From there, the awakening of the Red Queen of Decay, the unleashing of the Seed of Everlasting Rot, the Fall of the Celestial Spire, the corruption of the Northern Stronghold, the rise of the Shadow Cabal, and a host of other unimaginable disasters unfold. The game culminates with the return of the Umbral Monarch in all his grotesque grandeur, marking the dark end of the game's story.
As a minor antagonist in the first act, Sephorae's existence had a singular purpose—he was nothing more than an early-game obstacle, a temporary foe destined to be crushed and forgotten. Then, in the second act, he was meant to return, now wielding a corrupted power granted by a fallen entity, driven by vengeance against the protagonist for his humiliation. But in the end, no matter how desperately he struggled, his fate remained the same—he would die. That was the destiny of Sephorae in nearly every possible route. In the few exceptions where he managed to survive, his fate was hardly any kinder.
"Dammit!" Sephorae wanted to scream, but gritted their teeth instead. Panicking wouldn't help—a plan was needed. Surviving the academy arc was the first priority. Completely avoiding the main cast? Impossible. The story's threads were woven too tightly, pulling everyone toward inevitable conflict. Trying to escape them would be like dodging shadows under the midday sun. More than that, Sephorae needed Nathaniel Brightmore. His strength. His abilities. If there was any hope of standing against the Umbral Monarch, it rested with him. He was the protagonist for a reason. Sephorae repeated that thought like a mantra, a desperate justification.
But what's the point of needing him? a bitter, honest voice sneered from the back of Sephorae's mind. The lie was a flimsy shield against the truth. He could fight himself. The claim that the protagonist has no plot armor is a joke. Sephorae knew the reality. Nathaniel Brightmore's armor wasn't just strong; it was practically divine. He survived scenarios that should have atomized him a dozen times over, walking away with scars that only made him more "heroic." Sure, he struggled. Of course, he had problems. But against a single final boss? He always had a trick, a sudden power-up, a conveniently timed rescue. Against multiple? That was when the story truly bent to his will, forcing alliances and outcomes that ensured his survival. Sephorae had lived it, played it, seethed at it from behind a screen.
The lie about needing him was born of jealousy, a festering wound of envy. Sephorae had seen the data, the hardcoded rules of this universe. Nathaniel, Lila, even the side characters who joined the hero's party—they all had it. That invisible, immutable shield. Plot armor. It was why Sephorae, in all the game's routes, was destined to die. He was a stepping stone, a villain whose purpose was to sharpen the hero before being discarded. A wave of cold, bitter rage washed over Sephorae. The anger wasn't just at the world, or the system. It was at the profound, cosmic unfairness of it all. Why him? Why this fate? it doesn't matter it's time to go meet my father before the maid annoys me with her nagging and sociopathic glares.Sephorae's jealousy was a festering wound, a raw nerve thrumming with the injustice of it all. The lie about needing Nathaniel was a bitter pill to swallow, but the truth was even worse. Sephorae had obsessed over the game's data, pouring over every hidden file and scrapped mechanic. There weren't only hundred endings. There were one hundred and. Thesescenarios where Nathaniel Brightmore, against all odds, actually managed to be defeated by the Umbral Monarch.
In each of those ten losses, something horrifying happened. The Monarch's death, its essence rupturing, didn't bring peace. It was like popping a cyst, only to have the poison spread and metastasize. With each victory, the Void Lord—the true, formless entity behind the Monarch's power—grew stronger, absorbing the energy released from its fallen vessel. The world was "saved," but only for a fleeting moment before a far worse doom descended. Every other scenario, the ninety percent of playthroughs, ended in the protagonist's complete and utter annihilation. The game would go from its already brutal "Hell" difficulty to something that could only be described as "Nightmare." The villains would suddenly gain new, impossibly powerful abilities, their stats inflated to astronomical levels, their tactics becoming ruthlessly efficient and prescient, as if they were reading the player's inputs. It wasn't a game anymore; it was a meticulously crafted execution. Sephorae wasn't just jealous of the protagonist's plot armor. He was terrified by the cosmic trap it represented. Winning was losing. And losing was extinction.he would have to change that, but he didn't know how.
But that was a problem for another day. Right now, there were more immediate concerns. "It's time to go meet my father," Sephorae muttered, the words tasting like ash. He pushed himself off the bed, the movement still stiff from the beating. The nice, regular clothes he'd been changed into after the fight—a simple, dark grey tunic and black trousers—felt like a costume. They were clean and well-fitting, a stark contrast to the torn, bloodstained uniform he'd worn during the fight with Nathaniel. He walked out of his room into the grand hallway, and the atmosphere immediately shifted. Every maid, every butler, every assistant who scurried about stopped what they were doing. Their eyes, cold and disdainful, locked onto him. They looked at him like he was a cancerous cell that needed to be excised, a stain on the pristine Vespera name. The mansion itself was a monument to their power—a sprawling castle of light stone and shimmering , its towering spires piercing the sky. It was a strange fusion of modern and old-fashioned, with sleek, minimalist interiors hidden behind ancient, Platinum Quartz architecture. But today, even its grandeur felt like a cage.
His father, Duke Lucian Vespera, was waiting outside in the yard.
His hair, a light dark shining purple, was severely slicked back from a face devoid of expression. He wore a stunning, mid-thigh length overcoat in a color of deep, shimmering platinum-gray. The fabric was a tight, luxurious weave that caught the light, and the coat featured a wide, rigid lapel that ended in sharp, severe points. Instead of a belt, the coat was secured only at the chest by a series of three minimalist, gunmetal clips, giving it a stark, asymmetrical opening that emphasized his tailored waistcoat beneath. His movements were unimpeded, the coat's precise cut screaming wealth and lethal efficiency.
. Beside him, waiting with the family jet, was Sephorae's personal slave maid, whose cold gaze held a flicker of cruel amusement.
"So, you've finally decided to grace me with your presence," the Duke said, his voice dangerously quiet. He turned, and his eyes, cold and unforgiving, bored into Sephorae. Your constant brawling, your recklessness... you have stained our name. You are weak. And weakness has no place in this family. The words were like a physical blow, but Sephorae stood his ground, a smirk playing on his own lips, a stark contrast to the hopelessness clawing at his insides.