Finally... it was over.
Or so Aaran thought.
[Awaiting the gods' response...]
He clenched his fists, his heart pounding.
"Please," he whispered under his breath, "just this once... let pass."
[The attained outco was deed unsatisfactory.]
The words burned into his vision. Aaran's breath hitched. He couldn't believe it. Not again. Not this ti.
It wasn't the first ti he had seen that ssage. It was the nineteenth.
[Comnt: Try harder, dumass! We're curious to witness the perfect ending.]
Curious, my ass!
To him, the gods were nothing but sadists, playing with mortal lives for their twisted amusent. Their "curiosity" had cursed him to live the sa nightmare nineteen tis.
If he added up all the years he'd spent trying to achieve their so-called "perfect ending," he'd be nearing two centuries. For the gods, it might've been a blink of an eye, but for Aaran? Living for so long was a relentless assault on his mind and soul.
For two hundred years, he faced countless near-death scenarios. The toll it took on him was no joke, and Aaran was done.
Or so he wanted to say.
What could he do? If he didn't participate in their little ga, he would be erased like before him, and the gods would choose a new champion for themselves. Their entertainnt will continue, just without him.
[You've failed to et expectations.]
Failed to et expectations?
Aaran stood amidst the blood-soaked ruins, staring at the mangled corpses of his comrades. His carefully assembled team of 69,420 awakeners were gone. All of them.
He was the last one standing. The only survivor of the apocalypse. Well, there were others, but he was the only awakener.
Despite the sacrifices he made, he had failed.
Sure, they lost five out of the six habitable continents, destroyed half the moon, and caused countless natural disasters.
But hey, at least 12% of the world's population was still alive… sowhere. That had to count for sothing, right?
As much as I hate to admit it... yeah. The world's pretty much fucked now.
Even if the gods didn't reverse ti, the earth would et a bitter end. In a way, Aaran's torture was rcy for the world. But there was one problem with the gods' way of reversing ti.
"I don't even know what point in ti they'd send back to," he muttered to himself. "And to make it worse… they always start off with random stats."
As Aaran thought that, he suddenly lost his mind. He didn't want to regress again, but he couldn't bring himself to embrace death, either.
Why couldn't these damned gods just accept one ending?
[Your complaints are not well-received.]
[It is important to address the Champion's ungracious behavior.]
"What!?"
[All achievents, talents, and attributes will be converted into stat.]
[It'll be your challenge to conquer the apocalypse as such.]
[Your life from now won't be easy.]
As Aaran read those words, his mind went blank. Familiar with the feeling, he knew he was being transported back in ti. He just hoped it wouldn't be like one of those tis when they sent him to elentary school.
Even the constant dissatisfaction of the gods was bearable to him that being a nearly century year old man trapped in a room filled with kids. He felt like Diddy in his mansion… and it wasn't a good feeling.
Anything but that… please!
***
"Congratulations on a healthy son!"
The words rang in Aaran's ears, but he couldn't see a thing. All he saw were the silhouettes of figures leaning over him.
What… is this?
Suddenly, a sharp pain radiated through his body. He tried to stay calm, but his cries filled the air. His tiny limbs flailed wildly, refusing to obey his will. He kept crying, even though he had no intention of doing so.
Then the realization hit…
I'm back… to the day I was born?!
It was worse, far worse than the ti he'd regressed to his elentary school days. At least then he had so control over his body, but now… he got trapped in a fragile, helpless body. To make things worse, he could not communicate, nor did he have control of his infant body.
But that wasn't the problem. The problem was he needed to prepare for the apocalypse and train his body. But how could he do that while being bound by the limitations of an infant's body?
As usual, Aaran cursed the gods under his breath—or, at least, in his mind.
Those sadistic bastards. They must've heard wishing I wouldn't regress into a child again and thought this would be funny. Now I'm an actual baby.
Aaran could almost hear the gods snickering.
What's next? They'll turn into a sperm if I fail this ti? Where's that damned quest?
In every regression, the system always issued a quest shortly after his arrival.
When he'd returned to his college days, the task had been ludicrous: seduce four staff mbers. As a preschooler, he'd had to win the monthly drawing competition thrice in a row. During his ti in ti in compulsory military training, his quest was to slap the general—twice.
The system's sense of humor was warped, to say the least. He braced himself. Whatever the task, it would likely be both absurd and humiliating. Given his current state as an infant, he guessed it might involve… bodily functions.
Probably pissing on soone or sothing equally disgusting. Ugh. But… it might be a little fun.
[You've received a new quest!]
Finally.
[Quest na: Build an Indomitable body.]
[Quest type: Series quest.]
[Phase: One.]
[Task: Be an obedient child and breastfeed 10-12 tis per day.]
[Reward: Progression based.]
Aaran stared at the words.
…You're kidding , right?
Reviews
All reviews (0)