"... F*ck."
Even after confirming his suspicion by looking at his reflection; the truth of what he was seeing was one he hoped would end as nothing but a bad dream.
He had transmigrated.
Most idiots in the know about it would be excited at the thought of waking up in a new world—hell, he'd also entertained the idea when he was younger and still new to the space—but living it was an entirely different realm than a nerd's daydreams.
And yet there he was, eyes locked with the reflection of a man he would have preferred to have only known through his screen.
He let out a deep sigh. Then he spoke the character's name, his borrowed voice sounding strange to his ears.
"Valier Von Garic Baylith." The name left a bitter aftertaste on his tongue.
Out of all the heroes he could have woken up as, he was now, arguably, the worst one. This led him to wonder if he had somehow managed to piss off some divine emissary without realising it.
Still, if he were to look on the bright side—at least he was one of the male heroes—and, more importantly, he was the one he knew best.
He let that thought steep for a moment before dismissing it with another sigh.
There was no point in trying to deny what was literally staring him in the face; the reflection of a man—no, a boy—whose features bore no resemblance to the person he had been when he went to sleep.
A child who looked like he had barely stopped wetting the bed stood in the place of where his face should have been. With clear blue eyes, brown hair and a face with features softened by the innocence of youth.
An innocence that had already begun whethering away as his expression began to bear signs that mirrored those caused by the years he had spent in the corporate field.
He had worked for nearly a decade to reach the point he was at now only to have it all disappear and wake up as a fictional character.
"If only I was ten—no—five years younger, I would have been more enthusiastic about this."
The words left his mouth with as if he was resigning himself to his new face. But despite this, he had a few things he had to check off his list.
The first being to test if he had, at the very least been given a cheat ability or witty system to keep him company.
"System? Status window? Hello...?"
He raised his head to look up at the ceiling, where he assumed someone could have been watching from.
"Are you really going to leave me here with nothing but my monkey brain to figure things out?" His voice stayed level, speaking calmly to hide his growing frustration.
"You could at least drop a hint as to why I'm here, or what it is you want to achieve?"
"..."
"World domination? Or maybe you're in need of an entertaining show?"
"..."
"Maybe you're not real and I'm just talking to myself like a crazy person?"
"..."
Despite his best attempts to keep his voice even and expression neutral, the lack of any form of response was starting to get to him.
And after several more minutes of silence, he took a deep breath and turned back to face his—
"Listen carefully you pompous, sh*t eating, son-of-a-b*tch. You better pray to whatever being is above you that I die here.
"Because if I don't? I will find you and make you wish you were some local deity watching over rice farmers in feudal Japan instead of whatever c*ck gobbling, mouth breathing, voyeuristic, pillow-humping, f*ck that you are now."
"..."
He let out another deep breath to compose himself and returned to the rooms large bed, jumping backwards onto it to lay his himself on its comfortable cover.
The only thing he wanted to do now was sleep, pretend that this was all a bad dream and wake up hungover as if nothing had happened; but sleep illuded him,
forcing him to face the implanted memories he so desperately wanted to be fake. But they weren't.
He was now Valier Von Garic Baylith. Not the character who existed in a game but a child who had their own life, personality, dreams... and a family.
A family he would now have to deceive and act as if he had grown up with. Although he had the memories of the original Valier, realistically, that didn't equate to mentally being him—a ten-year-old whose whole world was just the people inside this castle.
At the back of his mind, a small voice whispered a grim solution to his moral dilemma.
One that would allow him to both avoid living as someone else but also as sort of f*ck you to whatever force that sent him here.
Death. More specifically, s*icide.
Surely an early death is better than whatever dangers he would have to brave if he lived his life as Valier—he reasoned with himself.
Yet, despite how simple of an answer it was executing it wasn't as simple as saying you would do it.
After all, no matter how difficult of a position he was in—ending one's own life, or another's, wasn't something that could be decided on a limb.
"God dammit!" He let out a frustrated shout and ran his hand over his face.
He let his mind rest for a moment and tried to reset his thought process, 'I'm going about this the wrong way, aren't I?'
From the beginning, he had been looking at this from the view that him not being Valier would ultimately result in the overall derailment of the worlds direction, so to avoid any further derailment caused by his presence it would have been better to end his life now.
A reasonable conclusion, because even with all the information he had, it wouldn't equate to him being able to proceed as the 'Dull blade Hero' would have.
Seen from a different angle, Valier's story had already been distorted from the moment he inherited his being. This was without even considering the other heroes who were heavily influenced by interacting with him.
So, even if he wanted to, it would be impossible for him to play the role of Valier from Records of the Heroes' Rise as the only person capable of doing that had technically already died.
Instead, he could fill that void by making himself a sort of placeholder—one who would fulfil the role in place of the original, ensuring everything flowed as intended, and in a way that benefited him.
Although committing to this meant that ending his own life would now be off the table, which was already something he wasn't keen on doing—the main deterrent from this being death, and the uncertainty that came with it.
Meaning that he would now live as Valier, but that didn't mean that he had forgotten about getting to the bottom of what got him here.
If anything, this meant that whatever sent him here should be prepared to face his wrath should, or maybe when, he finds them.
He let out another sigh and focused his eyes back on the ceiling, finally letting his mind rest as he had already settled on a plan.
All that remained was to slowly familiarise himself with this new life and enjoy it as much as he could, before preparing for the future.
*****
On Earth, in a spacious apartment, the morning light crept through the curtains to illuminate a still, lifeless body.
An autopsy would reveal that he had died painlessly from a heart attack in his sleep.
His monitor had a game open with an unopened mail notification that read, [Congratulations! To you, who has been chosen to save the world.]
[*^%—+#$$@!]
[We expect great things from the chosen champions.]