Magic: something as unreal as it was mesmerizing.
To Lloyd, magic had been invented to escape a world that was far too mediocre.
Though admitting it existed was, basically, stupid.
"Shit, I think I went too far... Now I have to clean up this mess," the man complained, snapping Lloyd back to reality.
"Alright, stick to the plan... I still can't believe this thing is going to be useful to me."
Lloyd left the case on the floor—the hideous, puke-green rectangle of plastic he hated.
"That's weird. I don't see a corpse."
Time was running out. That lunatic would realize he wasn't dead any second.
Lloyd moved with stealth, crouching and slipping behind stacks of crates and rusting machines as he went.
"Come on, Lloyd, remember the horror games. Life basically trained you for this."
He no longer felt fear; only tension and purpose. This was the most alive he'd felt in years.
"No... it's impossible that I actually like this," he thought, denying it to himself as he ducked behind another pillar.
"YOU GODDAMN BASTARD! YOU LIED TO ME!" the man screamed.
His time had run out; Lloyd had to act fast. The redhead was raging again.
"Somebody once told me the world is gonna roll me..."
The song blasted through the factory, louder and more ridiculous than Lloyd expected. Maybe that awful case wasn't useless after all.
The redhead yelped in surprise while Lloyd kept moving.
"Almost there!" he thought.
"What the hell is that sound? Air Slash!" the redhead shouted, slashing his arm through the air and producing another shockwave.
Machinery flew and columns cracked beneath the force. This was massive damage—nothing that could be caused by ordinary weapons.
"Didn't he change his phrase?" Lloyd wondered as he ran faster than he ever had in his life.
The exit was getting closer.
"There you are! You won't get away!" the man yelled, advancing. "Durandal: Air Cut!"
"Wait... Durandal?" Lloyd thought.
With a single motion, a blade of wind shot out. Lloyd had to dive aside as the pillar next to him was sliced apart, showering him with debris.
"Damn... so close."
The exit was right behind him, but now he was trapped.
"Persistent, weren't you? I thought you'd just keep whining like the loser you are," the man spat.
"Shit! You crazy bastard, I don't even know you. Why are you doing this?" Lloyd yelled, furious.
The other boy stopped, hand to his forehead, then erupted into a villainous laugh. He seemed to be savoring the moment.
"True, true, you don't know me yet. But I know you very well. Still—introductions are in order: Reinhart Pendragon. That's the name of the man who's going to kill you."
"Reinhart? Wait! That can't be... he has the same name as—" Lloyd started, but a sudden kick to his stomach from Reinhart sent him crashing into the door and snapped him out of his thought.
The air was knocked from Lloyd's lungs and pain flared through his body. He clutched his belly, folding forward. A strangled groan escaped him. He desperately wanted breath he couldn't catch.
"Wh-why?" he managed, voice strained.
"Why? You seriously ask me why? God..." Reinhart ground his fists so hard his knuckles went white. "I offered you my friendship! And how did you repay me? By spitting in my face and betraying me."
"I-I don't even know who you are," Lloyd said, landing his back against the dented door.
Why did this feel so familiar? Reinhart Pendragon—the protagonist of a webnovel called The Hero's Revenge—returned. It was the book Lloyd had been reading before the truck hit him.
"First you got close to Sofia... how dare you! She was meant to be in my harem," Reinhart raged, launching into a petulant, self-pitying monologue. That bought Lloyd a little time.
"Your relationship was... how to put it? Bluerg." Reinhart put two fingers to his mouth and mimed vomiting. "She needed a real man."
"Almost... just a bit more." Lloyd's hand inched covertly toward the door handle. Escape was his priority.
"Hey, what do you think you're doing? Don't even try it," Reinhart snapped, slamming his boot down on Lloyd's wrist and pinning it.
A cry of pain escaped him. He was getting worse and worse off.
"Sorry, Lloyd. There's nowhere to run. I'll kill you, end of story," Reinhart said in a calm tone, feigning regret. "You shouldn't have tried to kill me—that was your mistake."
"I-I never—" Lloyd began.
"But you will," Reinhart interrupted. "That I know all too well."
"Shit... is he really the protagonist? Does that mean I ended up in the body of the useless guy who was supposed to be killed at the start? The one who shared my name?"
Lloyd shook his head. It was too absurd to be true. More likely he was stuck in some lucid dream inside a coma.
"But you know," Reinhart continued as his foot left Lloyd's arm and Lloyd rolled over, "maybe I'm being too harsh."
Lloyd's hand dropped limp by his side like a puppeteer's cut string.
"Wow... I even have that mark." On the back of his hand was a small tattoo: a single horizontal purple line. A grimoire—the power system used in the novel. Lloyd's was supposedly defective, labeled useless, though in the story it would later surpass Reinhart's and his harem.
"Wait... does that mean I can use magic too?"
The thought sparked fresh hope. Maybe he wasn't completely lost.
"You taught me: true magic comes from imagination," Reinhart said, extending his hand as particles of light swirled and condensed into a gleaming sword. "They don't teach that at the academy."
"Imagination? Great—I had that in spades."
"Honestly, I never thought you'd become so powerful... but that stops now. I won't let it happen." Reinhart's smile turned sadistic.
His blade descended, carving a golden line through the air.
"Shit! No time. Quick—what do I do?" Lloyd panicked.
Under Reinhart's cold gaze, the light blade launched toward him.
"Goodbye, Lloyd."