The company NewGames had finally announced the winner of the grand prize of its flagship JRPG: War of the Arcane World. On the official page, a single name shone on Erwin's screen:
hine_pro
His username. His victory.
Erwin Lenox could barely believe it. His hands were sweaty, his eyes red from sleepless nights, and a fatigue so deep it made his back tingle, but even so he kept filling out each form with obsessive precision. Validation code. Registration proofs. Total playtime screenshots.
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 perfectly pressed black suit, 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 only moved his hand.
A metallic flash.
Cold entering his chest. A blade piercing flesh, ribs, and heart with the precision of a professional assassin.
—Ah… —Erwin gasped, unable to understand.
The world collapsed into dim lights and muffled sounds, a warm drip sliding down his shirt. The man watched him fall with a twisted smile that had nothing human in it.
Darkness swallowed him.
That night, the news mentioned a fire. A destroyed apartment. An unrecognizable body.
To the world, Erwin Lenox was dead.
When he opened his eyes amidst the smell of damp moss and wet earth—
He was not in his apartment. Not even in his world.
The pain was real, deep, brutal. He tried to push himself up, but his arms and legs responded sluggishly, as if they were not his own.
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 swayed in the wind, his hair fell messily over his face, and his eyes—once human—now glowed a deep red, almost supernatural.
He was not a man. He was something else.
And for a moment, only one thought crossed his mind:
he was facing something that was not human.
—I'm sorry for the way I brought you here —the man said, his deep voice rumbling 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 calmly, unsettlingly so—. Because you passed my test.
—What test?! You stabbed me!
—It was necessary —he answered without changing tone—. Your body would not have survived the transition. Your soul did.
Erwin looked at him, stunned, beginning to breathe rapidly—oh my god, oh my 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 vibrated in the air like an ancient bell.
—Who are you…? —Erwin whispered.
The red eyes brightened.
—I am Kheris.
The name pierced 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. His breathing became erratic, fear tightening his throat.
—I brought you here because you do not exist in the Book of Destiny —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 crushing, 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 form began to dissolve like black smoke.
—If you die here… you will die forever.
And then he disappeared.
The silence of the forest fell over him. A heavy, immense silence, filled with unknown sounds lurking between the trees.
Erwin gasped, trying to control his panic as he looked at his hands. They were not his hands. They were not his.
The mismatched breathing, the strange body, the unfamiliar muscles… it all pushed him to the brink 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 among the trees pulled him out of his spiral.
Erwin tensed, clinging to the damp ground. The shadows of the forest parted… and a black wolf emerged.
It was enormous, nearly the size of a horse, its fur absorbing light instead of reflecting it. Its golden eyes showed no hunger… but intelligence. And familiarity.
Erwin should have panicked. He should have run. Screamed.
But something inside him relaxed, as if fear had been torn away. A faint, luminous silver mark appeared on his forearm, glowing beneath the skin.
His memory—or Lusian's—responded before he did.
The three magical beasts inherited from Lady Douglas.
The mark burned for an instant. The wolf tilted its head… and approached with a submissive movement, like a vassal before its lord.
Erwin swallowed.
This is not normal. This is not strange.
But there was no time to process it.
A thunder of hooves echoed through the trees. The wolf immediately stepped back, alert.
A white horse with blue streaks burst through the undergrowth, ridden by a woman with hair black as night. Her elegant clothes were stained with mud, her breath was ragged… and her eyes, upon seeing him, filled with tears.
—Lusian! —she shouted as she dismounted almost stumbling—. My son!
Before Erwin could react, the woman pulled him into a desperate embrace.
He froze. Stunned. 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 in that moment, only a mother who believed she had lost her son.
Hours later
Erwin woke up in a soft bed, with sheets too fine to be real. The room was large, made of polished stone and silk curtains swaying with the breeze. Magic filled the air, a constant tingling, as if the environment itself were breathing.
Sophia sat beside him, with a gentle, tired smile.
—You finally woke up, Lusien… —she whispered—. You had me so worried.
Erwin swallowed.
—I'm sorry —he murmured. And it was true, though not for the reasons she thought.
The duchess hugged him tightly and kissed his forehead.
—Don't ever run away like that again, do you hear me? I thought I had lost my little one.
No one had ever called him "my little one" since he could remember. The hug broke him. It left him vulnerable in a way that hurt more 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 threads with methodical desperation.
The game's story. Lusien's fragmented memories. The duchy reports. Everything fit into an inevitable tragedy: the world faced extinction, and the gods had sent chosen heroes to save humanity.
Lusian Douglas had been a brilliant noble, but he was not chosen. Driven by envy and fear of losing status to the blessed heroes, Lusian made a pact with a servant of the Demon Queen to gain the power the heavens denied him.
The vision was clear: if he used the pact power now residing in him, the Demon Queen would 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 muttered bitterly—. I get to be the villain with an expiration date.
Kheris had been clear: Survive. Change the story. Do not let the same chain of events repeat.
So he devised a plan. Simple, almost ridiculous, but the only one possible:
Pretend to be Lusian without raising suspicion.
Avoid the 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 put both hands on his head.
—I'm doomed…
He looked at his hands—someone else's hands—and took a deep breath.
He was a doomed villain with an expiration date… with a fallen god playing chess from the shadows.
And he was just a piece.