Chapter 34:
I Was Reincarnated Into Dice
The forest was quiet again but that quiet was broken by the sound of metal dragging against earth, his shield scraping a crooked trail behind him as he hunched low, arm limp, fingers barely gripping the rim.
Levin. He seemed unaware. Or perhaps he simply chose not to care. He limped forward through the silence, one dragging step at a time. Blood marked his trail. He should’ve collapsed. Anyone else would have. But Levin kept going—shoulders slumped, eyes hollow, blood soaking the side of his shirt. His back looked broad… but also small. Fragile and somehow, that made it worse. Pity was never enough to justify him. It couldn’t soften what he had endured.
Beside me, Lyra moved quick, a blur of silver and blue. I followed without thinking, drifting after her as she rushed toward him. She reached him first, cutting him off, arms outstretched, trying to stop him, to block death itself.
“Levin—stop!” she said. Her words shook with emotion.
He kept walking. His eyes were glassy, unreadable not because he didn’t hear her, but because he did and still refusing to turn back.
“There are two more,” he rasped. His voice was weak, stripped of strength.
“If you keep going...you’ll die,” she swallowed. The sentence landed heavy not with fear, not even anger, just the kind of ache watching someone fall apart in real time. She stepped closer, pressing both hands to his chest gently to keep him from drifting any further.
“You’ve done enough.”
Her touch coaxed him upright, just a little. His shoulders shifted, barely lifting. The shield slipped from his fingers and hit the ground with a dull, tired thud. Levin finally looked at her. His lips parted. No sound came.
Then she pulled him into a hug. Her chin rested on his shoulder. It was the kind of embrace that offered nothing to explain and asked nothing in return. She simply held him together when he was falling apart. Her arms wrapped around him, more grounding than any magic could ever be.
“Let me do the rest,” she whispered. “You kept your promise. You were our shield.”
The words hit harder than any tusk. His breath caught. A faint shake ran through his limbs, the kind of falter that happens when someone stops pretending they’re fine.
He couldn’t hold himself up anymore and finally realized he didn’t have to.
Near the edge of the clearing, the smaller Tusk paced in uneven circles. Blind and twitching, it flinched at every sound drawn toward motion but unable to lock on. It hadn’t charged. Not yet. But its eyelids kept fluttering opening, closing, struggling to stay shut. It was recovering.
Further back, the Mega Tusk loomed in silence. Its massive frame barely shifted, but tension coiled through it. Ears twitched. Nostrils flared. The air around it felt tight—attentive. Still blinded but alert.
We didn’t have much time. Sooner or later, we’d have to face them head-on. Lyra kept holding him. She stayed wrapped around him, her hand moving in slow, soothing circles across his back. The gesture healed nothing, but it was the quiet kind of comfort Levin needed most right now. She held him there, arms steady. One hand pressed against his spine, the other curled around his shoulder as if shielding him from everything, even the weight inside his own chest.
Levin didn’t say a word. But I saw it—his shoulders shaking. Small at first, then harder. Something inside had finally given away and I knew what that kind of trembling meant. Seeing Levin now reminded me of myself, back on Earth.
I tried too many times, hoping for recognition… and all I ever got were blades in return.
I swore back then that I wouldn’t care again. That I’d stop putting hope in people, because without it, I couldn’t be hurt. And yet Levin...
He was trying so hard. I could feel it, that pain of wanting to be your best, trying to impress someone you care about… only to give everything and still end up invisible. I saw it in him that same quiet ache. That very same bruises. Lyra… she was different. From the start, we were tangled together, whether I liked it or not. But Levin, he was a choice. And somewhere along the way, without even realizing it, he became the one I looked out for the most.
His body trembled, barely upright. Each breath came shallow, rough, closer to collapse than recovery. Mana surged through me. I expanded midair, shadows stretching across the clearing as my form swelled—twice, six times, then large enough to hold Levin safely.
“Incoming dice drop,” I muttered.
Lyra understood what I was doing. She moved him, slow and careful, guiding him backward until his knees gave out and he slumped against my top face. He didn’t resist. Just sank into the surface, blood smearing against my edges, his weight limp and uneven. Broken. Exhausted. But safe.
I began to shrink, inch by inch, lowering him with measured care until his back touched the mossy base of a tree. His breath rattled in his chest, but it held firm. Levin couldn’t fight anymore. He needed rest. I hovered beside him, watching for a beat before I finally spoke.
“Buddy... let’s take a time-out, yeah?” My voice cracked. “Let me handle this. This whole mess...this was on me. My mistake.”
I forced out a laugh. “Thanks for covering my ass. You were... you were stupidly cool today.” But the words felt bitter. After what he’d gone through, calling it “cool” didn’t sit right at all.
Lyra stood again, brushing strands of hair from her face. Her expression had changed.
The shimmer of fear was gone from her eyes, replaced by something focused, rage wrapped in resolve.
“I’ll handle the rest,” she said.
I hovered beside her, voice low. “Two Tusks. One mega. Both blinded. Odds are... still terrible.”
“Doesn’t matter,” she muttered. “I’m not losing anyone else.” Her rage was infectious. I felt it building fast, fierce and heavy as it pulled me in.
Somewhere behind us, I heard Levin murmur something—too soft to make out.
I almost turned back. But I brushed it off. Because what stood in front of us wasn’t just dangerous. It was a wall we had to climb, or die trying. After seeing Levin like that...
I couldn’t just float around anymore. I had to do something that counted. We stepped into the clearing. The air reeked of scorched fur, thick smoke, and the bitter tang of blood.
Across the field, two silhouettes shifted in the mist. One moved with a limp, smaller and stumbling unpredictably. The other remained tall, its body broad and imposing, blind but undeterred. The Mega Tusk let out a deep, guttural growl that vibrated through the haze. The fight was far from over.
Lyra stepped up beside me and reached into her space ring, pulling out her bow in one smooth, practiced motion. Her grip tightened as she held it in both hands, though I could see the tremble running through her arms.
She tried to pull the string, but her fingers faltered and the draw refused to hold.
“You okay?” I asked, though I already knew the answer.
“No,” she whispered. “I can’t... I don’t think I can cast again.”
She leaned forward and used the bow for support, her breath shallow and uneven. Sweat gleamed along her skin, a clear sign that her last spell had drained her completely but her stubborn gaze refused to admit she’s done for.
I hovered close to her shoulder. “You’re not done yet.”
No reply came, only the taut, aching tension of a body too exhausted to speak, and a mind perhaps too overwhelmed to hear.
“Lyra.”
The name hung in the air, unanswered, swallowed by the silence that followed. So I leaned in closer, let my voice brush against her thoughts.
“Roll me.”
Her head jerked slightly, eyes locking onto mine—bleary, trembling, but still burning with something.
“But this time, don’t think about casting or striking. Don’t think about winning. Just picture the Tusk with its energy fading and its strength slipping away. Take it. Steal its mana. Drain its energy.”
A beat passed.
Her lips parted.
“Can we even do that?” she asked hoarsely.
“No idea,” I replied. “But I’m a dice. Breaking rules is kind of my entire personality.”
I paused, my voice dropping. “Though… it could just as easily go the other way. Like when I accidentally made the Mega Tusk. What if trying to steal its mana ends up giving it more? Your choice.”
She didn’t say anything, but I kept going anyway.
“I’m sorry for being so unreliable. My power’s too random. It’s basically gambling. And I’ve always been unlucky. Even back on Earth, my gacha pulls were mediocre at best.”
Her brow furrowed. “What’s gacha?”
I sighed. “It’s a soul-crushing system where you trade hope for disappointment. Like casting a wish into a well, but the well kicks you in the teeth. Also? Addictive as hell. You also sort of gacha sometimes...”
Her eyes rolled with murder. The smaller Tusk snorted, hooves scraping the dirt. Its eyes blinked open. Great. The hero finally woke up and of course, guess who’s on the hit list. It looked straight at us.
“Do I even have a choice now?” Lyra muttered, clicking her tongue. “The Tusk’s already coming.”
She tightened her grip, hesitated for a moment, then exhaled.
“The hell with it... I believe in you. Whatever this gacha thing is—I’m all in.”
She flashed that mischievous grin and damn if it didn’t catch me too.
“Now that’s my girl!” I grinned.
I practically sparkled with glee. “Look at you! Talking like a true gacha whale with a spending problem. Pure addict energy.”
(But seriously—don’t gamble in real life, bro. That stuff’s a pitfall.)
She pressed her palm against my surface. A spark of mana surged into me—wild, full of intent. Her gaze sharpened, a flicker of defiance catching fire. Fingers tightened around the tether. She rolled. I spun in the air, jittering with energy. Damn, I lived for this kind of reckless gamble. Nothing beat the thrill of betting big and knowing it might explode in your face. The tether snapped tight and I flew, spinning, gleaming, alive. The wind howled past my edges as I cut through the air like a thrown star.
I bounced off a rock—once, twice—then hit the dirt with a sharp crack.
Clack.
I tumbled, corners striking the ground, flipping end over end. Dust kicked up in small bursts as I bounced again, harder this time.
Clack.
The final impact slammed me flat into the earth—one last desperate spin.
CLACK.
And then… stillness. I lay there, face up.
【6】
The air tightened. Even the fog pulled back and I heard that line again.
“You rolled a natural six.”
The voice wasn’t mine. It came from nowhere. My core jolted. I’d heard that voice before but I couldn’t remember when. A half-forgotten dream clinging to the edge of waking.
High above, the fog stirred. “Jennie?!”
I barely had time to ask what was happening, the air thickened. Light dimmed. Something ancient began to move. Before I could make sense of it—the air dimmed, as if someone had lowered the sun’s volume. Light warped. Time slowed.
The number 【6】 pulsed golden on my back—alive, radiant, burning with something absolute. I steeled myself for the price, ready to take the hit and bear the cost meant for Lyra, to protect her. But it never came.
Instead, my body surged with divine heat.
A golden glow erupted from me, radiant and searing, like justice made manifest.
I shot forward, streaking across the battlefield. From my spinning body, two massive chains erupted, each link as thick as a cathedral column, forged from blazing golden light with flickering streaks of deep violet mana that pulsed lightning.
The surface wasn’t smooth, it was carved with intricate, celestial markings, ancient contracts etched in flame, glowing with every rotation. Arcane glyphs flowed across the links as if the metal itself were breathing, shifting, alive. Along the chains, bursts of brilliant sparks crackled outward with every twist, trailing a faint choir-like hum that rose into a piercing crescendo as they flew.
They didn’t just fly, they screamed through the fog, shrieking like ruptured air splitting around divine wrath. Each chain lashed outward in perfect sync, cutting through the mist and slamming into the chests of the Tusks with a sickening, thunderous CRACK.
The ends weren’t blunt.
They were spiked, shaped into harpoons, the tips crowned with dragon fangs fused to spearheads. When they struck, they didn’t just pierce, they burrowed, twisting into flesh with a screech of grinding bone and anchoring deep. And then they pulled hard, dragging the beasts inches off balance, locking them in place like divine judgment had just staked them to the battlefield.
The Tusks roared—no, shrieked—something vital was being torn from them. Their bodies sagged, muscles twitching, light fading from their skins. It wasn’t blood.
It was mana and energy being ripped away. Then, a third chain began to slip free from my dice body slowly. Unlike the first two, it didn’t lash out.
It unraveled with eerie grace, coiling in the air like a living thing. Thinner than the others. Its surface shimmered with pure gold, links glowing with a calm inner light. It floated in a serpentine motion, drifting left and right as if searching. My core pulsed. I could feel it reacting, almost as if it were guiding. The chain’s runes flickered from gold to a dull red. It was recalibrating, choosing.
Lyra stood nearby, tense, her bow still in hand. Her eyes were locked on the chain.
“Is it... aiming at me? Dan, are you sure this is the right roll?” she whispered, uncertain.
At that exact moment, the chain made its choice. It snapped toward her, not in a straight line, but in a writhing spiral, twisting through the air like it could taste her magic. The runes along its links flared from red to white-hot, burning symbols into the fog as it cut across the space between us.
“LYRA!” I screamed, the sound already chasing behind it.
Too late.
The chain slammed into her chest with a sound like thunder breaking bone. Her back arched violently, breath torn from her lungs, and then—she lifted.
The chain had hooked into her soul and yanked it skyward. Her limbs hung for a split second, stunned by the impact. Her hair lifted in slow motion, fanning out in the air beneath the gaze of something unseen. Magic cracked the air around her, rippling out in heatless waves.
And then she began to glow.
She hovered in the air, weightless, gripped by a stillness that felt sacred and inescapable. Yet, it didn’t hurt her. Unlike the others, it brought a strange stillness. It sank into her like a thread slipping into still water, seamless and arcane.
Her eyes flew open. She gasped.
The chain pierced through her back, ghostlike, then traced every wound, every frayed thread of her tunic, every bruise and tear. The impact didn’t rupture. It bloomed. Light scattered across her body, brilliant and silent, the way lightning fractures glass and then, color returned to her skin.
Pale cheeks flushed with warmth. The cracks of fatigue melted away, dissolving in her skin the way morning mist vanishes beneath sunlight. Mana surged through her veins, golden and electric and wild. Finally, the chain threaded gently through her head, like a final seal.
Power rippled through her. In that moment, she straightened midair. Suspended in a trance that felt almost divine. Lyra floated at the center of it all, the perfect picture of a war goddess without the armor and absolutely ready to ruin someone’s day.
Her face burned with purpose. Her eyes lit with fire. A confident, smug, mischievous smile tugged at her lips. She was alive, brimming with mana that rippled through her, golden pulses crackling at her fingertips.
She was ready to rumble.
Between them, in the heart of the clearing, the chains vibrated softly, still glowing with residual magic. Slowly, they began to loosen and unravel, each link slipping free with quiet grace. Their form thinned, their light dimmed, and they rose into the air, fading into the fog.
Across from her, the Tusks stood motionless. Color drained from their bodies. They looked paler by comparison, dimmed shadows in her glow. The chains were gone and what they left behind split the battlefield in two.
One side burned brighter than ever. Power coursed through Lyra’s body, fire blazing in her eyes. On the other, the Mega Tusk let out a furious roar, feral and unrelenting. Even drained by the chains, it was nowhere near finished.
And neither was she.
I didn’t know if it was me, the roll, or whoever was pulling the strings but it worked. The chains took from the Tusks and gave it all to her. A divine transfer. A brutal trade.
And hey...turns out, I don’t always roll trash. My gacha pull wasn’t mediocre this time.
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