The throbbing pain in Alex's head was only surpassed by the utter absurdity of his death. One minute, he was reaching for a Snickers bar from a vending machine -- a totally justifiable midnight snack after a brutal coding session. The next, the ancient, rusted monstrosity decided gravity was a suggestion, not a law.
"Seriously? Crushed by a vending machine? My obituary is going to be hilarious," Alex thought, or rather, tried to think. A strange sort of darkness encroached upon him, sucking away even the pain. He felt weightless, disconnected, like a spectator at his own demise. Then, nothing.
... Until something.
He gasped, air flooding his lungs in ragged bursts. He lay on something soft, luxurious even, like velvet. His body felt...different. Stronger. More...noble. He opened his eyes. The room was huge, ornate, and aggressively medieval. Think tapestries, suits of armor, and enough gold trim to blind a dragon. He sat up, disoriented.
"What in the actual...?" he muttered, his voice deeper, smoother than he remembered. A hand flew to his mouth in shock. His fingers were long, elegant, adorned with rings bearing what looked suspiciously like family crests. He looked down at his body. Impeccably tailored black robes hugged his frame.
This was not the slightly overweight, sleep-deprived coder he knew and tolerated.
Suddenly, a window popped into his vision. Blue, pixelated, and distinctly...game-like.
[Welcome, Lord Vile! You have been selected to participate in the Aethelgard Chronicle! Your stats have been assigned based on your host body. Good luck... you'll need it.]
Below the greeting, numbers assaulted him.
Name: Lord Vile
Title: The Shadow Prince
Level: 10
Stats:
• Strength: 25
• Dexterity: 20
• Intelligence: 50
• Charisma: 75
Skills:
• Shadow Manipulation (Novice)
• Dark Arts Theory (Intermediate)
• Swordsmanship (Basic)
• Intimidation (Expert)
• Noble Etiquette (Master)
He stared at the interface, blinking rapidly. "The hell is this? Some kind of elaborate prank?"
Another text box appeared.
[Would you like a Tutorial? (Y/N)]
"Yeah, obviously 'Y'," he said aloud, then mentally cringed. He sounded like...well, like a pompous noble. He hesitantly tapped the 'Y' with his index finger.
The screen shifted, explaining the mechanics. The RPG system was ridiculously straightforward. He could gain experience by completing quests, defeating enemies (or rivals), and generally being...well, Vile. Leveling up allowed him to allocate points to his stats, increasing his abilities. He could learn new skills and spells by observing others or through dedicated training. And apparently, certain choices during important events would trigger significant plot deviations from the original story.
A shiver ran down his spine. The 'original story.' He remembered something from before... dying? Vending machines? And then...
Another window flashed:
[Detected: Previous Life Memories. Integrating... Please Wait.]
Information flooded his brain -- a torrent of names, faces, plot points. He saw a vision of himself -- a knight, clad in shining armor. Sir Reginald. The protagonist. And him. Lord Vile, the antagonist. The loser. The guy who gets defeated, imprisoned, and probably tortured.
"Oh, hell no."
His new goal solidified instantly. Forget being the bad guy in someone else's fairy tale. He was going to survive. And thrive. And maybe, just maybe, enjoy the hell out of it.
He closed the interface, pushing it to the back of his mind. For now.
A knock echoed on the heavy oak door. "Lord Vile? Are you prepared for your introductory speech to the Academy?"
He took a deep breath. Aethelgard Academy of Magic. The place where noble brats and magically gifted commoners went to learn to wield power. And where Sir Reginald was destined to become the shining beacon of hope.
"Excellent. Just the opportunity I needed," he murmured, a predatory smile spreading across his face. He stood up, smoothed his robes, and mentally prepared himself for the role he was about to play. The game was on. And this time, Vile wasn't going to lose.
He opened the door, revealing a nervous-looking servant.
"Lead the way," Alex-as-Vile commanded, his voice dripping with the kind of authority he'd only ever witnessed in movies. As he strode down the hallway, he couldn't resist one last, sardonic thought.
"Well, world, get ready. This villain just got an upgrade."