(Why? Why did it have to end like this? I only wanted to find a way to be happy in this world...!)
Having fled from Marcos and the others, Isaac had exhausted the very last of his strength. He wandered aimlessly through the city streets, his mind reeling and unable to fully grasp the reality of his situation.
Battered by the wounds from his recent battle, the agonizing side effects of being forcibly transformed into a Magic Armor Beast, and the soul-crushing burden of wielding the Demonic Sword, he was a physical and mental wreck.
He slumped against a cold stone wall, trembling. Tears welled in his eyes as he questioned his fate, though he already knew the answers deep down.
The images flickering through his mind were no longer those of the proud Isaac Area. Instead, they were the bitter, stinging memories of his previous life as Isao Aritou.
"What's wrong with you?! Try cooperating for once!"
He remembered a classmate shouting that at him back in elementary school. It had been during practice for a relay race that the whole class had to participate in. The boy had exploded in anger at Isao’s blatant lack of effort.
He had heard similar words again in middle school.
Cooperate. Join in. Let’s do our best together. After years of swatting away every hand extended to him with those words, the people around him eventually stopped reaching out. Isao had found himself utterly alone.
He told himself it was a relief, that being alone was easier, and that he didn’t need anyone else. He blustered and put on a brave face, but deep down, he knew it was all a lie.
He was simply terrified. He lived in constant fear that if he let anyone get close, they would see how incompetent he truly was. So, he kept his distance, loathing the thought of being exposed.
It was the same during that relay race. He was uncoordinated and slow; he believed that if he tried his hardest and still failed, he would look pathetic. To avoid the pain of being laughed at, Isao never gave it his all. He pretended he wasn't trying.
I could run faster if I actually felt like it. I'm just lazy. He had played the part of the bored genius to protect his fragile ego.
Because of that, he never had a single friend. Even when someone tried to be kind, he could never bring himself to show them his true, vulnerable self.
His isolation only deepened with time. Eventually, no one even bothered to look his way—yet he still couldn't stop pretending to be strong.
He called himself a Solitary Solo Player. He told himself that he had chosen his solitude, that this was exactly what he wanted, and that he was independent rather than isolated.
When he lost at the games he loved, he blamed his teammates. He retreated into games that could be conquered alone, and in that vacuum, he had dedicated himself to Luminous History. He lived that way right up until his life was cut short by something utterly trivial.
Reincarnating into this world should have been his ultimate second chance.
It was an opportunity to change his way of being—a final moment where he could have chosen a path opposite to his first life and learned to walk alongside others.
But he had thrown it all away.
It wasn't because he wanted to test his own limits, nor was it out of some noble pride in solo play.
He was just... afraid. He was terrified that if he chose a new way of life now, he would have to admit that his entire existence as Isao Aritou had been a mistake.
So, even after being reborn with the superior stats and handsome features of Isaac Area, he clung to his old habits. He didn't know how to do anything else.
And this was the result. He had dreamed of becoming the Solitary Hero who would save the world, but instead, he had fallen to the level of a common criminal—a monster who had stolen a Demonic Sword.
He had known the truth all along. He knew his own weakness, his foolishness, and his many mistakes.
He just couldn't bring himself to admit them. Fully aware that he was walking the wrong path, he had pushed forward until he reached this dead end.
(Help... someone, anyone... please, save me...)
He didn't care if he looked weak or pathetic anymore. Given everything he had done, he knew he had no right to ask for mercy.
But now that he was tasting true, absolute solitude, the weight of his own stupidity crushed him. Despite the shame, a desperate, powerful urge to connect with another human being surged in his heart.
He just wanted someone to reach out. If they did, he promised himself that this time, he would take that hand and finally change.
Through his blurred vision, the silhouette of a person appeared.
As he stood there dazed, he saw the figure slowly approach and extend a hand toward him. A faint, hopeful smile touched Isaac’s lips—
"...Eh?"
Then his expression froze in shock as a wet, sickening crunch echoed through his body.
Something hot and red gushed from his chest.
He coughed, trying to expel the foul sensation rising in his throat, and sprayed blood the same corrupted color as the Demonic Sword's magic power.
His eyes widened as he realized he had been stabbed. The man standing before him wore a look of immense satisfaction.
"Yo, Isaac! You really are a pathetic sight, aren't you?"
"Y-you... are... ghrk!"
"Don't get your blood on my uniform. It’s filthy."
He recognized the student who had just run a blade through his heart.
It was a fellow Reincarnator who had challenged him to a Duel a while back, trying to stop Isaac from running rampant at the academy.
Isaac remembered the name was Cyan. As Cyan leaned in to look him in the face, his smile twisted with malice.
"This feels great. I finally get to pay you back for the humiliation you put me through. You went too far, Isaac. You made every single one of us want to see you dead."
"...!?"
Isaac looked past Cyan and saw several other figures.
They were all Reincarnators. As the realization hit him that they had all gathered to finish him off, his legs gave out and he collapsed.
The blood wouldn't stop pouring from his mouth and chest.
As Isaac lay there, sobbing and struggling as he drifted toward the end, Cyan knelt beside him and spat out words of pure contempt.
"Don't worry, Isaac. We'll take all those rare materials you gathered off your hands. And we're going to make good use of your death, too. We’ll be the heroes who took down the madman who lost his mind to the Demonic Sword. Our reputations are going to skyrocket. Be happy, Isaac—you’re finally being useful to your 'comrades'."
The Reincarnators' cruel, vulgar laughter filled the air.
Slowly, a dark pool of blood spread beneath him.
As his body grew cold, Isaac was struck by a final, soul-crushing despair. He realized that he was exactly like the people mocking him. With that crushing regret as his last companion, a final message flickered in the darkness of his mind before everything went black.
GAME OVER
A few minutes later, Marcos and his group arrived at the scene. They found Isaac lying face-down in a pool of blood, his body perfectly still.
Seeing the young man’s face—his eyes wide and haunted by a look of absolute despair—they were struck dumb. They stood in the silence of the alley, unable to do anything but mourn the tragic end of a life wasted.