The Route of New Opportunities

“Mister Kurimoto, just what were you thinking, tweaking the gameplay mechanics like that?”

“But sir,” I said, “the story suggested that the player was blessed with a temporary power boost during this quest, so it makes sense to shorten the skill cooldown just a little and add some extra flair just for this rift instance…”

“But did I give you permission to do that?”

“...No, sir.”

My boss sighed and squeezed his nose bridge. “I understand that it’s for ‘better immersion’ and all, but remember that you’re working for me. This is not your game, so unless I tell you to, do not go out of line. Understood?”

“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.”

“Good. Consider this a warning. Now go and fix it.”

I bowed, turned around, and returned to my desk. I let out a heavy, dejected sigh once I sat back down, staring at the scowl reflecting on my monitor. “Don’t blame me if this game feels lackluster then,” I mumbled, working away. “It’s like these guys have never played an RPG before… tsk. Their loss.”

My old life was always like this. All I’d ever done was listen to orders, follow the rules, and do whatever others told me to do. That was how things used to be for as long as I could remember.

It was this very lifestyle that I’d lived a dull life, and as a result, I started craving for liveliness that I’d find in video games, light novels, manga, and anime. I happened to enjoy gaming the most simply because of the morsel of freedom I’d taste by playing it at my own pace.

Nothing else in my life could even grant me this much. After all, the old world was built so that most people had to work to bring food to the table until they’d eventually die. Unless they were born rich, of course, but I wasn’t that lucky.

That was why I didn’t bother to resist this system. My job paid me pretty well, so I wasn’t struggling and all, but… still. I’d never felt anything from it.

…So this was what living as a program would be like, existing only to follow instructions. The fact that I'd been living like one in my previous life gave a pathetic chuckle out of me.

But here in Erudios? It felt like I could finally think for myself. For once, I could feel what it was like to be alive.

To be myself.

To make a difference for once in this cowardly life.

Maybe these glitches of mine weren't a curse but a sign of freedom from the old system, but I couldn't be sure unless I actually did something meaningful.

So, I'd decided to shelve this thought until then.

⮽⮽⮽

“So, thank you… for making it happen in this reality, Haruma.”

No, I should be the one thanking her for helping me realize the impact I'd made.

I pointed my sword at the thing that was once a knight named Francis. “I’ll take care of him. You guys look after Ashrenne!”

Dahlian rushed to my side, slamming his fists together. “Nah, man, I’m joining you,” he said, his gaze red and sharp. “I’m not letting him slide after pulling that dirty move, dead or not.”

I nodded, and the two of us charged. I leaped and swung my sword down, unleashing a chaotic mess of blades up into the air. Dahlian snatched one of my flying swords and threw it at the corpse, which batted it away and countered with a thorn of its own.

I slid in and shielded Dahlian right on time, chipping the thorn away. Dahlian snatched my shoulder, leaped over me, and swiftly kicked the corpse away.

Meanwhile, Ashrenne tried to get back on her feet, but the elf held her down. 

“Ugh, guys, stop acting... like I’m actually dying. I said... I’ll be fine!”

“There’s a limit on how tough you can act,” Sloane muttered. “And I’ve had enough of seeing people dying out of foolish decisions. I thought you’d understand that as a former captain, don’t you?”

“I do. I became a captain for a reason, y’know?” She effortlessly shoved him away and staggered back up. “I’m much, much tougher than I look! I’ve survived worse conditions... than some stab in the gut!”

“But—”

“Have some faith, will ya?! I refuse... to die so soon and here of all places!”

That didn’t stop her from bleeding out, though. She eventually kneeled and sat back down, legs crossed. “On second thought, I’ll sit this one out,” she deadpanned.

“A wise choice.” Sloane also began to sit down, but Ashrenne kicked his rear and forced him back up.

“Get your ass up and fight, soldier. You’re not permitted to take a break!”

“Eehh… I wanna go home…” The elf ever so slowly stumbled toward the battle scene, still reluctant, distant, and detached from the dangers surrounding him as always. He stared at the zombie with an equally soulless gaze, behaving almost as if he were a walking corpse himself.

“Are you just gonna stand there and sulk or what?!” Dahlian called out, wrestling with a thick tree branch.

“We’d really appreciate some help here!” I said, blocking a flurry of thorns shooting around us.

Sloane slowly inhaled, combed the long hair strands away from his eyes, pulled out a dagger from his sleeve, and leaned forward. He zoomed at astonishingly high speed, disappearing for one second and reappearing again at another spot, cutting down all the tree branches, the spikes in his path, and ultimately the corpse vertically in half.

The corpse collapsed and withered away, dissolving all its branches and spikes with it.

“Well damn, uh, okay, thanks for the help,” said Dahlian, scratching his head.

“Don’t mention it,” mumbled the elf.

“Francis…” Ashrenne gripped her stomach and pushed herself back up. She wobbled toward him, kneeled before his remains, and retrieved his torn badge and wedding ring.

I hesitantly approached her, but I didn’t have the courage to ask how she was feeling.

As if she sensed my intentions, she tossed me another faint smile. “I’ll be fine. He and I knew what we were in for during the war, and I’d already gone through my five stages, haha. I’m just glad… I can finally bring him home.”

“I see…” I gave her a silent nod.

“What a lovely camaraderie, you four,” said the glass orb, flashing brilliantly. “I suggest you hold off on the sappy stuff until you leave my rift instance, though.”

“Ugh, we were having a moment here, goddamn it!” said Dahlian, pointing at the orb. “Also, I almost forgot you were even here. You’ve been watching this whole time?”

“Us divine beings normally don’t chat with nobodies like you for long.”

“Hey!”

“Anyway, what’s with you, the sad little elf over there?” the orb asked, flickering in curiosity. “Why is one with so much mana, such as yourself, using only physical attacks?”

Sloane’s stoic expression slowly turned hostile. “Wouldn’t you like to know,” he muttered. “The fact that you asked such an ignorant question proves you’re not worth wasting my breath.”

“Oh, no, don’t get me wrong. I remember you. You’re one of those elves who’ve killed their sapling familiars, aren’t you?”

Dahlian, Ashrenne, and I all dropped our jaws and gaped in utter astonishment at the elf, who stood there and squeezed his grip on his dagger. He, too, widened his trembling eyes, and his breathing became unstable.

“Right on the money, it seems. I’m only curious because all the other elves would go berserk at the sight of me, crazy for vengeance and all. Why are you different?”

Sloane gritted his teeth. “Don’t act like you actually care about what I think after what you’ve done to my home, you traitorous goddess,” he snarled.

“You’re right. I don’t care at all, but I’m a curious type nevertheless.”

The ground started to rumble, the chains snapped off and disintegrated, and the cobblestone walls began to crack open fissures, welcoming in sun rays and cool breezes. We all regrouped and watched in astonishment as the entire arena started to transform into a different environment.

“And I’m simply curious to learn what makes you all truly suffer.”

With that statement, the orb brilliantly expanded and flashed the whole scene white, forcing us to cover our eyes. The arena’s dusty scent gradually became fresh and earthly, and the chains’ haunting jingles transitioned into a pleasant chorus of songbirds.

We all opened our eyes and found ourselves in a glade, surrounded by lush trees, mystical plants, and passing fairies. Everyone looked around in wonder, but one of us remained frozen solid. 

Sloane turned pale as he stared at the tiny sapling resting alone at the center of the open space, his grip wavering.

“Sloane Ivoric, the fallen noble who refused to share his past, can you prove it’s possible to break what’s already broken?” asked Florathea. “Let us see for ourselves, shall we?”