Think about it.
What would you do if life never treated you fairly? If your mind could no longer accept any hobby as something enjoyable? If you completely lost your ability to communicate with the people around you?
You would start a fight.
Because such a body is no longer a normal body. Once the devil inside finishes consuming you, it wants to consume everything you can still reach.
So what did I do?
I didn't start a fight. Where would I even start one? I didn't even have anyone to fight with—at least not in real life. I didn't stay idle either. I picked the only place where I could still fight properly.
Online games.
I gave thirty years of my life to this ridiculous video game.
And in the end, I succeeded.
My greatest achievement:
"Lord of All Stats."
To earn this title, I maxed out every single branch of stats—twice.
I finally made it.
But of course, there was a problem.
The servers were shutting down.
In one hour.
———
The hero dropped to his knees and looked up at the sky.
"At least now I know what it feels like to see something through to the end."
His thoughts were in chaos. After so many years, he carried the feeling of having truly accomplished something. Yet he had only fifty-five minutes left to celebrate it.
He stood up.
He was in the middle of a battlefield that looked like the aftermath of the apocalypse. Every inch of the land bore the scars of hours-long combat—and all of it pointed toward a single player.
Axziz.
The most unhinged player in the game.
On the final day, Axziz had declared battle across every forum. Even players who had quit months or years ago returned just to answer his challenge.
With twelve hours left before shutdown, it was time for The Last Standing.
After hours of blood, sweat, and energy drinks, the battlefield was littered with the remains of hundreds of players. Above them all floated a completely empty HP bar.
At the center of the carnage, the hero whispered:
"Stats."
A character window opened.
Name: Axziz
Every stat read: FULL.
Race: Mutant.
Being a mutant was… interesting.
The biggest advantage was visual. While other races reached into empty space to store or retrieve items, a mutant pulled what they needed directly from their own body.
The official description was simple: Able to alter the shape of their body at will. No additional bonuses.
Humans had defense and extra starting stat points. Orcs had raw attack power and resistances. Insects, lizards—countless other races had clear advantages.
Mutants had none.
In fact, they were disadvantaged in almost every way.
Just clearing the tutorial had taken me a full real-time week.
Only masochists tried this race for fun, and almost all of them abandoned their characters sooner or later.
The difficulty was unbearable.
After hundreds of attempts. After countless deleted accounts. After so many hardcore characters dying permanently.
I finally reached this point.
It was an incredible feeling.
Axziz stretched and yawned, then opened the menu. He selected the teleportation stones list and chose the guild gate.
———
He appeared in front of a stone-walled passage leading into a circular structure.
"Home sweet home, my dear guild hall," Axziz muttered.
The building resembled a ruined fantasy tavern. Vines covered its fire-blackened exterior, yet lights still glowed within. The doorway was tall enough for a 2.2-meter mutant to pass through comfortably.
The moment he stepped inside, an old man greeted him with a warm smile. His mustache was longer than his beard, and streaks of gray ran through his hair.
This man was a false form of the head steward—the penultimate boss of the guild hall. He also served as the true guardian of the inner gate, issuing brutal level warnings to anyone foolish enough to raid the guild.
"Ho ho! I wasn't expecting guests today."
"I was expecting a ghost," Axziz replied.
"Then what may I offer you?"
Axziz cleared his throat.
"A glass of love."
What kind of line was that? he thought. Even Pushunter would never say something like this. But since no one else ever guessed it, we kept it as the password.
"~Please~ enter gently."
Damn it, Pushunter…
Axziz descended the stairs behind the bar, passing through the rooms he had personally built one by one.
At first, he had no friends. Since the game allowed players to construct a guild hall from scratch, he had created a guild simply for convenience.
Over time, people came and went. Some stayed. Some became friends.
And as friendships formed, everyone left their own mark on the guild's architecture and management.
Axziz passed through every floor and finally sat at the round table on the top level.
Memories surfaced.
Back when the table seated sixty people—when no one listened to anyone else. People setting up shops in absurd places. Others dueling indoors, trying to tear each other's throats out.
Sixty slowly became thirteen.
That was our prime.
Thirteen bastards who brought chaos to the entire server.
If we'd had a little more time, we could have conquered everything.
Three years ago, the game had already become a dead game.
I hadn't seen them since.
What are they doing now?
———
Ten minutes remaining.
Axziz stood up and walked to a mirror. His body was covered in burn scars, his appearance shifting between elf-eared and orcish features.
He examined himself carefully.
Then he chose an old saved form.
His prime form.
His height remained the same, but his appearance transformed into that of an elderly demon. His skin darkened to iron-dust black. Ancient Egyptian accessories adorned his neck and arms. His hair shifted into a wolf cut, paired with a sharp, full beard.
The outfit was modeled after destruction gods from an anime he once loved.
Looking into the mirror, he felt it again.
Yeah… this still has presence.
As he left the meeting room, servants were already waiting.
Five women dressed as attendants. And the true body of the head guardian.
Each represented a different mystical creature.
"Hm. Follow me."
Seeing them always made him feel like a true lord.
Actually… not a bad idea.
He stopped and turned.
"Gather all floor guardians in the throne room."
———
Seven minutes remaining.
Axziz entered the throne room and gazed at the vast hall. Obsidian pillars ran with gold-filled cracks, their beauty dragging him into memories.
Five minutes.
He sat on the throne, leaning back, taking in the hall he had devoted years to.
Servants entered, followed by the head guardians. Though humanoid in shape, none of them belonged to the human race.
Thirteen monsters.
Chosen to serve thirteen monsters.
Three minutes.
As Axziz recalled friendships, chaos, and good times, his body began to tremble. He was about to lose this unreal world—the one that had hidden reality from him.
The thought unsettled him.
One minute.
There would be no game left to waste time on. No place to escape. Work, sleep, and life would collapse into imbalance.
He would be alone with himself again.
For how long?
Ten seconds.
It didn't matter anymore.
The only thing left was to continue living.
5 4 3 2
If only I had lived a different life…
1
00:00:00
Connection to the world lost.
———
Axziz kept his eyes closed, waiting for the end.
Then he opened them.
He wasn't in his bedroom.
He was still in the throne room.
He looked at the guardians. They looked back at him.
Did the servers not shut down? Was it all a lie?
Relieved, Axziz exhaled deeply.
Then a voice spoke from his right, kneeling.
"Are you well, my lord?"
Axziz instinctively glanced sideways, unused to hearing a female voice. It came from the right-side guardian.
Before he could respond, another voice spoke from his left.
"At once, my lord. I have already informed the servants in the dining hall. They will arrive shortly."
He turned his head.
An upper vampire lord—Pluton—stood there, alive and unmistakably real.
"Do you desire anything else, my lord?"
Axziz maintained a perfect poker face.
Something is wrong. I can't access system settings. I need to verify this.
He stood up abruptly.
The guardians flinched.
To him, it was a normal movement. To them, an overwhelming aura of terror spread unintentionally.
How do I confirm this?
After a few seconds of thought, Axziz turned to the head servant.
"Alfred," he said, his voice heavy and clear.
"Yes, my lord!?"
"Contact your guardian avatar."
"I cannot, my lord. The connection was severed moments ago." He lowered his head in shame.
"Then take the first and second floor guardians outside and survey the surroundings. I sense something amiss."
"At once, my lord."
They moved quickly toward the dungeon exit.
Axziz thought:
What is happening on the surface?
As he looked around the throne room again, he felt something unfamiliar.
Respect.
Being regarded as worthy.
With that sensation settling in his chest, Axziz returned to his throne.
And, with quiet resolve, chose to be worthy of it.