MTL - On How Abusive Essays Become Sweet Essays - Chapter 137 Vinegar Jar (1)

Auren was the star of his generation. Graduated the combat school at the age of 12, mental fortitude was beyond his peers, and he was considered the talent of the Western State of Lysendral.It was for this reason that his awakening was greatly anticipated. Everyone was sure the star would receive a Divine Blessing from the Archon.And like others before him, be set on a definite journey to becoming the strongest Blessed in the history of the world.However, expectations were shattered when Auren awakened a Divine… Curse.“Such a phenomenon has never been heard of!”“How can a human awaken a curse! This is an abomination! Kill him! Sacrifice him to the archons!”In such a slight moment of appointment, Auren's entire life came crashing down.And he became a national criminal. Locked up and sentenced to death for having receiving a curse instead of a blessing.A 16 year old boy was ruthlessly killed by a guillotine and offered as a sacrifice to prevent doom… and the people relished in it.However, this was not the end for Auren.[Congratulations, you have died by execution],[Conditions have been met][You have challenged your first fester.][A requiem beckons onto you..][...Your resurrection awaits.]Having broken the shackles of death, Auren rises again to seek vengeance and destroy not just the nation that had killed him but tear down the very existence of the archons themselves.But is everything really as it seems?

Who will judge right and wrong, and who will comment on merits and demerits?

In this life, I don’t want to follow the rules, I just want to do whatever I want.

Hold the secret in your hand, watch me domineering.

————I am Zuo Xiaoduo, and I do not take the usual path.

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The smell of blood invaded my nostrils. I watched helplessly as the woman standing over me raised her sword. I was completely drained, I had no mana left, no items, nothing. As the crimson tendrils held me down by my arms and legs, all I could do was wait for my death.

As the sword drew near, I felt the last bit of courage I had disappear. I was going to die. Alone. In this god forsaken place filled with evil. And for what? To protect those ‘friends’? The same people who mocked me, took advantage of, and used me?

Oh, who am I trying to fool? I was here only because of my own greed. Because I wanted to be useful to someone. Because I wanted to that group to need me. To value me. To have a reason to keep me around. How naïve I was, thinking that power would grant those wishes. All it did was help build a wall between me and everyone else.

The sword approached. I saw the purple light reflect off the sword’s blade. After everything I went through, I hadn’t expected my death to be by the hands of another player. I saw her smile, but this time I didn’t think it was beautiful. It was an ugly smile because it was genuine. She was enjoying watching me die. She was enjoying killing me.

The sword struck my chest and pierced my heart. I let out a scream of pain and agony. The pain was so real, all of this was so real. It shouldn’t be, but it was. What should have been a simple game had become my new reality – all of our new reality. A reality filled with magic, war, blood, and death.

My vision darkened as the pain slowly faded. I felt the last of my vitality leave my body. It felt cold. I wondered to myself, when would I stop being? When would my thoughts disappear?

Soon, I saw those words I feared for all this time appear before me. “DEATH”, in the pale blue font the game always used. They remained suspended in the air for several seconds. It was over. After a long time of fighting, grinding, and exploring, it was finally over. I had died. This was the end of my story.

Suddenly, words before me shifted and changed into something different. I took a shallow breath as I heard a faint heartbeat.

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We were a peaceful people living in harmony with nature in the vast lands of Lyréanor, but this peace was short-lived when our people were defeated by the dark elves, an ancient people even older than this world. It is said that they arrived in Lyréanor by boat and since their arrival, chaos has been unleashed. Proud of their obscure power, derived from dark rituals, they have raised gigantic armies of monsters whose name is synonymous with terror: ‘Obscurus’.They went on the rampage, and everywhere they went the grass didn't grow back, life died and disintegrated. Seven, there were seven. The seven dark elves known as the Lords of the Apocalypse. A single gesture from them was enough to strike us all down, a single gesture from one of them was enough to decimate us in blood and terror.And as I, Foster, contemplate the macabre scene before me, the bloodied and deformed bodies of my fellow elfes beings, and as death grips my soul, a strange sign appeared before me.[Ding... Activation of the world tree system]