The company NewGames had finally announced the winner of the grand prize for its flagship JRPG: War of the Arcane World. On the official website, a single name glowed on Erwin's screen:
hine_pro
His username. His victory.
Erwin Lenox could hardly believe it. His hands were sweaty, his eyes red from sleepless nights, and a fatigue so deep it made his back tingle with exhaustion, yet he still continued filling out each form with obsessive precision. Validation code. Registration proof. Screenshots of total playtime.
He had spent days locked away, surviving on cheap coffee and fast food, fighting impossible bosses and magical affinities that in the game felt like poetry… and in real life, only fantasy. Every spell, every duel, every quest breathed inside him as if the digital world had begun to brush against him from the other side.
When he finally pressed Submit, his heart hammered in his chest. Half a million dollars. His life would finally change.
He didn't know it had already changed.
The next morning,
The doorbell rang while Erwin was still trying to peel himself off the couch. He dragged his feet to the door.
When he opened it, he found a man in a black suit, perfectly pressed, with a neutral expression and a polite smile that didn't reach his eyes.
"Sir…?" Erwin muttered, confused. "Can I help you?"
The man didn't respond.
He simply moved his hand.
A metallic flash.
Cold entered his chest. A blade piercing flesh, ribs, and heart with the precision of a professional killer.
"Ah…" Erwin gasped, unable to understand.
The world collapsed into blurred lights and muted sounds, a warm drip running down his shirt. The man watched him collapse with a twisted smile that was anything but human.
Darkness swallowed him.
That night, the news mentioned a fire. A destroyed apartment. An unidentifiable body.
To the world, Erwin Lenox was dead.
When he opened his eyes, surrounded by the smell of wet moss and damp earth,
he was not in his apartment. Not even in his world.
The pain was real, deep, brutal. He tried to sit up, but his arms and legs responded clumsily, as if they weren't his.
A chill ran down his spine.
And then he saw him.
The same man in the black suit was there… though he no longer wore a suit. A dark robe moved with the wind, his hair falling messily over his face, and his eyes—once human—now glowed a deep, unnatural red.
He was not a man. He was something else.
And for a moment, only one thought crossed Erwin's mind:
he was standing before something not human.
"I'm sorry for the way I brought you here," the figure said, his deep voice echoing through the air. "But I had no other choice."
Erwin instinctively backed away, though his legs trembled.
"What… what did you do to me?" he gasped.
"I brought you here because it had to be this way," the figure replied with unsettling calm. "Because you passed my test."
"What test? You stabbed me!"
"It was necessary," he answered without emotion. "Your body wouldn't have survived the transition. Your soul did."
Erwin stared at him, dazed, breathing faster and faster—oh God, oh God.
Every word sounded more absurd, more impossible… but the pain in his body, the strange air, the damp ground beneath his hands forced him to accept the unthinkable.
War of the Arcane World, the man continued, was not just a game. It was a filter. A training ground. A way to find someone capable of adapting to Kuria.
Kuria.
The name echoed through the air like an ancient bell.
"Who are you…?" Erwin whispered.
The red eyes brightened.
"I am Kheris."
The name carved itself into his mind like a forbidden echo.
"This world," Kheris continued, "is real. Here, magic rules, gods shape history, and every soul follows a written destiny… except yours."
Erwin swallowed hard. His breathing became erratic, terror tightening his throat.
"I brought you here because you do not exist in the Book of Fate," Kheris said. "No one can predict you. No one can find your path. And that… is exactly what I need."
"For what…?" Erwin asked, almost pleading.
"To change the story you saw in the game," the god replied, with a shadow of sadness. "And to survive."
Kheris stepped closer. His presence was overwhelming, but not hostile. Not now.
"You have taken the body of Lusian Douglas of Mondring," he explained. "In the story, he was one of the villains. One destined to die young. In one week, this body and your soul will fully merge. Use it well."
Erwin felt the ground vanish beneath him.
Everything. Absolutely everything was too much.
"I'm… screwed," he muttered.
Kheris gave a cold smile.
"Survive," he whispered, "and I will send you back."
His figure began to dissolve like black smoke.
"If you die here… you will die forever."
And then he disappeared.
Silence fell over the forest. A heavy, vast silence filled with unknown sounds lurking between the trees.
Erwin gasped, trying to control his panic as he looked at his hands. They weren't his hands. They weren't his.
The mismatched breathing, the unfamiliar body, muscles he didn't recognize… it pushed him to the edge of collapse.
He did not belong in this body. He did not belong in this world. And no one knew he was alive.
A crack in the trees pulled him out of his spiral.
Erwin tensed, clutching the damp ground. The shadows parted—and a black wolf emerged.
It was enormous, almost the size of a horse, its fur absorbing light instead of reflecting it. Its golden eyes showed not hunger… but intelligence. And familiarity.
Erwin should have panicked. Should have run. Screamed.
But something inside him relaxed, as if fear had been stripped away. A faint silver mark appeared on his arm, glowing beneath his skin.
His memory—or Lusian's—reacted before he did.
The three magical beasts inherited from Lady Douglas.
The mark burned briefly. The wolf tilted its head… then approached with a submissive movement, like a servant before its master.
Erwin swallowed.
This isn't normal. This isn't mine.
But there was no time to process it.
A thunder of hooves echoed through the forest. The wolf immediately stepped back, alert.
A white horse with blue streaks emerged from the brush, ridden by a woman with black hair like the night. Her elegant clothes were stained with mud, her breathing uneven… and her eyes filled with tears when she saw him.
"Lusian!" she cried, nearly falling as she dismounted. "My son!"
Before Erwin could react, she pulled him into a desperate embrace.
He froze. Speechless. Not knowing where to put his hands or how to breathe.
The woman trembled against him.
Sophia Douglas of Mondring. Duchess. Legendary mage. The most feared and respected woman in Caparthia.
And at that moment, just a mother who thought she had lost her son.
Hours later,
Erwin woke up in a soft bed, with sheets too fine to be real. The room was vast, made of polished stone and silk curtains moving with the breeze. Magic lingered in the air like a faint hum, as if the world itself was breathing.
Sophia sat beside him with a tired, gentle smile.
"You're finally awake, Lusien…" she whispered. "You had me so worried."
Erwin swallowed.
"I'm sorry," he muttered. And he meant it, though not for the reasons she believed.
The duchess pulled him into a tight hug and kissed his forehead.
"Don't ever run off like that again, do you hear me? I thought I lost my little boy."
No one had ever called him "my little boy" for as long as he could remember. The embrace broke him in a way more painful than death.
How am I supposed to deceive someone like this…?
Days later,
While his body—the body of Lusien—recovered, Erwin began connecting the pieces with methodical desperation.
The game's story. Lusien's fragmented memories. The duchy's reports. Everything formed a single inevitable tragedy: the world was on the brink of extinction, and the gods had sent their chosen heroes to save humanity.
Lusian Douglas had been a brilliant noble, but he was not chosen. Consumed by envy and fear of losing status to the blessed heroes, he made a pact with a servant of the Demon Queen to gain the power heaven denied him.
The vision was clear: if he used the pact now residing within him, the Demon Queen would eventually claim him. And in the original story, that final betrayal cost him his life at the hands of his own fiancée, the Saint of Light.
A classic villain. An inevitable tragedy.
And now Erwin was him.
"Great…" he whispered bitterly. "I get to be the villain with an expiration date."
Kheris had been clear: survive. Change the story. Do not allow the same chain of events to repeat.
So he formed a plan. Simple, almost ridiculous, but the only one possible:
Pretend to be Lusian without raising suspicion.Avoid heroes like divine plagues.Never make a deal with demons.Stay alive. That's it.
There was only one problem.
His favorite character in the entire game was the Demon Queen. That beauty, that design…
And now I have to avoid demons.
Erwin let out a bitter laugh.
He grabbed his head with both hands.
"I'm doomed…"
He looked at his hands—someone else's hands—and took a deep breath.
A doomed villain… with a fallen god playing chess from the shadows.
And he was just a piece.