The first thing I felt was pain.
Not the dull expected pain of a hospital bed or the peaceful drift into nothing I had imagined death would be. This was sharp and painful, the kind of pain that came from a fist connecting with your jaw.
I hit the ground hard, tasting copper and dirt.
"Pathetic," a voice sneered above me. "The great Weiss family produces nothing but trash."
Weiss?
My eyes snapped open. Polished boots. Expensive leather. The kind of detail you'd see in a—
No. No, no, no.
I pushed myself up on trembling arms, and the world swam into focus. Cobblestone courtyard. Gothic architecture. A fountain with a serpent motif I recognized instantly. And standing over me, three young men in academy uniforms, their faces twisted with contempt.
I knew those faces. I knew this scene.
"Get up, Edward," the leader said, cracking his knuckles. "Or are you going to cry to your father again?"
Edward...
The useless young master. The arrogant brat who picked fights he couldn't win, who had no magical talent despite his prestigious bloodline, who existed solely to be humiliated in Chapter 3 and killed off in Chapter 7 when he stupidly challenged the protagonist to a duel.
I was in;Witch Hunter's Redemption
And I was the character everyone forgot after he died.
"I asked you a question, trash!" The leader's boot caught me in the ribs.
I grunted, rolling with the impact. My body—Edward's body—was weak and soft from a life of luxury with zero training. But my mind was racing, cataloging everything.
Chapter 3. The Academy Courtyard Scene. These are Baron Kellis's lackeys. They're supposed to beat Edward bloody, and he's supposed to whimper and beg.
Then the protagonist would arrive, save him out of nobility, and Edward would resent him for it. This humiliation would fester, leading to the duel that killed him.
The script was clear.
But I wasn't Edward Weiss. Not really.
I was William, a twenty-eight-year-old office worker who'd read this webnovel forty-seven times. Who had raged in the comments about the witch hunts. Who knew every plot point, every betrayal and every death.
Including my own.
I pushed myself to my feet, swaying slightly with blood dripped from my split lip.
"Well?" The leader stepped closer. "Nothing to say? Where's all that Weiss pride now?"
In the original scene, Edward would lash out verbally, making it worse. He had threaten them with his family name, and they would beat him harder to prove the name meant nothing without power.
I looked at him. Really looked at him.
Derek Kellis. A minor antagonist who dies in Chapter 34 when he tries to assault a witch and she burns him alive. The protagonist finds his charred corpse and uses it as propaganda—see what monsters witches are?
Except I had read the side stories. The witch he attacked was defending a village of children. Derek had already killed three of them.
The protagonist never mentioned that part.
"You're right," I said quietly.
Derek blinked. "What?"
"I said you're right." I wiped blood from my mouth. "I am pathetic. The Weiss name doesn't mean anything if I can't back it up with strength."
His cronies exchanged confused glances, This wasn't what this cunt was supposed to say.
"So I'll get stronger." I met Derek's eyes. "Strong enough that next time we meet, you'll regret this."
It wasn't a threat. It was a statement of fact. Because I knew something Derek didn't know, in sixty-two chapters, he would be dead. And I intended to survive much longer than that.
Derek's face reddened. "You little—"
"Derek."
A voice cut through the courtyard like a blade.
Everyone froze.
I didn't need to turn around to know who it was. I could feel it—that pressure in the air, that weight of destiny and power that only the protagonist carried.
Lucian Veros.
The Witch Hunter. The Chosen One. The genocidal hero of this twisted story.
I turned slowly.
He stood at the courtyard entrance,his silver hair catching the afternoon light, blue eyes cold and righteous. The divine sword Purifier hung at his hip—the first of seven divine artifacts he had taken on his quest to eradicate every witch from existence.
This was the part where he was supposed to save me and stop Derek, then extend a hand of mercy that Edward would spit on.
"That's enough," Lucian said, his gaze sweeping over the scene. "Three on one? That hardly honorable."
Derek stepped back immediately. No one challenged Lucian Veros. Not at the Academy. Not anywhere.
"We were just teaching the Weiss brat some manners," Derek muttered.
"By beating him bloody?" Lucian's hand didn't move toward his sword, but the threat was implicit. "Leave. Now."
They left.
And then it was just us. The protagonist and the character he would forget about in four chapters.
Lucian approached, and I felt my heart hammering. This close, I could see the absolute conviction in his eyes. The unshakeable belief that he was right, that his cause was just, that purging the witches was humanity's salvation.
In the original timeline, he had killed 247 witches. Which I counted personally because they weren't listed in the novel.
Some were evil. Most were just trying to survive with a few of then being children.
"Are you alright?" he asked.
The proper response was to snarl at him, to reject his help. That's what Edward would do.
"I' am," I said instead, keeping my voice neutral. "Thank you for the intervention."
A look of surprise flickered across his face.
"Edward Weiss, correct?" He studied me. "I've heard about you."
Nothing good , I thought. But I just nodded.
"The Academy entrance exam is in three days," Lucian continued. "You've registered, haven't you?"
The exam. Chapter 4. Where Edward would fail spectacularly and become the academy's laughingstock.
Except I wasn't going to fail. Because while Edward Weiss had no magical talent, I had something better—I knew where every divine artifact was hidden, which professors could be bribed, which training techniques actually worked, and most importantly, I knew where the witches would be.
Starting with the first one Lucian was supposed to kill in Chapter 12.
Seraphina the Silver Flame.Accused of burning a village. Actually guilty of saving that village from a demon, but no one would believe her. She would die on Lucian's sword, and the witch hunts would truly begin.
Not this time though.
"I have," I said. "I'll be there."
Lucian nodded, seeming satisfied. "Good. I look forward to seeing what House Weiss can produce."
He left, confident he had done his good deed for the day.
I watched him go, then looked down at my trembling hands. Edward's Weak, untrained and magicless hands.
I had no power. No magic. No advantage except knowledge.
But knowledge was enough.
I knew the ending of this story—a world cleansed of witches, the protagonist hailed as humanity's savior, and countless women dead for the crime of being born different.
I was going to rewrite every damn word.
Starting now.