Chapter 2
“It’s starting.”
Gunther’s eyes fixed on the dust cloud rising at the edge of his vision.
At the same time, the merchant caravan began to stir restlessly.
“What the hell are those?”
“Bandits, probably. No banners.”
“That’s a lot of bandits… and they’re on horseback?”
“Prepare for battle! Everyone, halt!”
But of course, they weren’t just a random group of horse-riding bandits.
They were the Holy Army of Lutien, fanatics who served the Seven Evil Gods—
the main antagonists of Forgotten God.
Their goal was singular: capture the caravan master of the Silver Compass Caravan.
Because—
“The caravan master is secretly a member of the resistance opposing the Evil Gods.”
That was the hidden truth of this caravan.
It was precisely why this ambush had been placed at the very beginning of the game’s main story—
Act 1, Chapter 1.
The protagonist would save the caravan master, be recruited into the resistance,
and begin his grand quest to save the continent.
So, for Gunther, there was only one clear goal.
“Survive until the protagonist arrives.”
And that, he believed, was well within his ability.
“Open status.”
==================
[Level: 25]
[STR - 22 | VIT - 18 | AGI - 20 | MAG - 4 | CHA - 50 | LUK - 10]
[Unassigned Points: 0]
==================
Among the extras, these were top-tier stats—
the fruits of years of brutal training and real combat.
“My magic’s still low… but whatever.”
He had long given up on developing magic.
No divine contracts meant no magic skills anyway.
[“The King of Ninety-Nine Defeats” warns you to focus on the battle ahead.]
[“The Gigolo of the Crimson Streets” pleads with you not to ruin your handsome face.]
[“The pharmacist saint ” trembles as she prays for your safety.]
…The enemy began to accelerate.
“Defensive formation!”
“Prepare for battle! Frontline, hold the line!”
Chaos spread as the soldiers scrambled.
Eddie, the caravan’s chief guard, was shouting furiously.
“If the caravan master or his daughter so much as gets scratched, you’re all dead!”
Ryan, beside Gunther, scowled.
“God, I hate that pompous bastard.”
The defenders, however, didn’t seem too panicked.
They still thought these were just bandits in disguise.
A thunderous roar split the air.
WAAAAA—!
The enemy vanguard charged in—eyes blood-red, blades gleaming blue in the sunlight.
Shrrk—!
Gunther drew his sword just as Ryan muttered beside him,
“Hey… something feels off.”
“…What does?”
“Just got a bad feeling.”
He tapped the handle of his hammer nervously—his usual tell when uneasy.
“A massive bandit raid this close to the border city? Doesn’t that seem strange?”
Sometimes, Ryan’s instincts were sharp.
But this time, Gunter only shook his head.
“Forget it. Just fight enough to look busy and then pull back.”
“Huh? What are you—”
“It’s not our scene today.”
Ryan’s confused reply was swallowed by the roar of battle.
The mercenaries charged forward.
“Kill those bastards!”
Gunther followed right behind.
Slash—!
He cut clean through the neck of an enemy lunging at Ryan’s flank,
then shoved the corpse forward to block another’s charge,
and smashed the attacker’s knee with a sharp kick.
“Kraaagh!”
Crack—!
Ryan’s hammer came down hard,
splattering blood before it even hit the dirt.
Gunther darted ahead, ignoring Ryan’s shout.
“Hey! Don’t rush in alone, you maniac!”
But he didn’t have time to answer.
‘Where is he?’
He kept his head cool, searching through the chaos.
Then he saw him.
A man calmly walking toward the caravan master’s carriage,
utterly unbothered by the spears aimed his way.
‘…The boss!’
The boss had appeared before the protagonist.
He wore the same uniform as the other soldiers,
but that unhurried, arrogant composure gave him away.
The first boss of Act 1, Chapter 1—
Aaron Bernecker, Second-Rank Paladin.
There were eight official ranks in this world,
and though second rank wasn’t the highest,
he was strong enough to annihilate the entire caravan guard alone.
Even Eddie—the only contracted man among them—
would last just a few seconds against him.
Only the protagonist could defeat him.
“Aaargh!”
“A c-contractor! He’s a divine contractor!”
“Run!”
As expected, screams erupted across the battlefield.
A wave of black light swept through Gunter’s peripheral vision.
He grit his teeth.
‘Hurry up… come on, hurry!’
He knew this ambush was coming.
He knew people would die.
But he couldn’t stop it.
If he had interfered and prevented the event,
the story itself would have collapsed—
the meeting between the protagonist and the resistance never happening.
That would mean no salvation, no return home.
So he made his choice.
To sacrifice a few…
to preserve the scenario as a whole.
All he could do now was fight—
and buy time.
Shrrk—!
He swung his sword again and again,
cutting down anyone in his way.
If even one more person could survive until the protagonist arrived—
it would be worth it.
The boss was here.
The protagonist had to be close.
“Hurry the hell up!”
He screamed and kept swinging.
Just a little longer.
Just a bit more—
But the protagonist didn’t come.
Even after Gunther cut down a few more enemies,
even after the Paladin slaughtered more than half the guards—
no hero appeared.
[“The King of Ninety-Nine Defeats” advises you to flee.]
‘Why…?’
He stumbled, disoriented.
Sure, Forgotten God had multiple branching paths and choices—
but this was Act 1, Chapter 1.
The protagonist’s appearance here was a fixed event.
It was supposed to be unchangeable.
‘Did I trigger a butterfly effect somehow…?’
But there was no time to think.
“Almost there!”
“Kill them all!”
The enemy wave crashed down endlessly.
The screams of his comrades had faded.
His stamina was gone.
[“The King of Ninety-Nine Defeats” demands that you stay conscious.]
An arrow struck.
Thud!
A dull shock tore through his right arm.
Without a sound, Gunther dropped his shield and switched his sword to his left hand.
“Left-handed swordsmanship sucks—grk!”
He sliced one enemy open—
only for his shoulder to explode under a hammer strike.
Crunch—!
[“The Gigolo of the Crimson Streets” closes his eyes.]
Both arms went limp.
Still, Gunther refused to fall.
He bent down, grabbed his fallen sword with his teeth.
Laughter erupted from the enemies.
Someone spat at him.
Someone kicked him.
‘…Why.’
[“The Pharmastic scent ” covers her mouth in horror.]
‘It’s not supposed to be like this.’
He charged at the nearest soldier,
slamming his body into the man’s chest.
The soldier staggered—
but Gunther’s bitten sword couldn’t follow up.
Clang—!
His teeth shattered. Blood gushed.
The sword fell to the ground.
‘…I have to go back.’
He reached for it—
but his hands wouldn’t move.
“You pathetic worm…”
Then, suddenly—
the soldier who had been mocking him froze, stepping back.
Someone else approached.
“Hmm, the last one.”
Thud—roll.
A severed head landed beside Gunther.
Its face, slick with blood, was Ryan’s.
Nearby lay another corpse,
half a body, arm outstretched toward the carriage.
Eddie.
[“The King of Ninety-Nine Defeats” sighs heavily.]
Gunther tried to stand.
He couldn’t.
He could barely lift his head.
“Still want to fight? In that condition?”
Under the blazing sunlight,
the paladin’s expression was one of utter boredom.
He pressed his glowing sword against Gunther’s neck,
letting the blade hum with divine energy.
“……”
That light—the mark of a contract.
Proof that this was a power no ordinary man could resist.
Gunther looked up at him,
and for the first time in years, whispered a name.
Not a curse.
Not a plea.
A name he had buried deep in his heart.
“Soohyun…”
The paladin sneered.
“A heretic’s dying prayer?”
The sword came down.
He saw it clearly—
but couldn’t move.
Just like every misfortune in his life,
he couldn’t escape it.
“I’m sorry.”
The world flipped upside down.
The sky and ground spun together.
Then—darkness.
* * *
Looking back, Jonghyun Lee’s life had never even reached the starting line.
“Jonghyun-ah, I’ll buy you a robot next time, okay?”
His father ran away, leaving behind his pregnant mother.
“Take care of Soohyun, okay?”
And his mother died soon after—overwork and illness.
He was nine.
The rest of his story was predictable.
He never needed to explain the rest.
Still, not every moment was misery.
“Oppa! I got straight A’s this year! Top 1%!”
“Heh, guess all that tutoring money paid off.”
“Just wait! I’ll make us rich, I promise!”
That alone made life worth enduring.
He didn’t resent the hardhat or the construction sites anymore.
“Yeah… my time will come someday.”
He had believed that.
He had worked for it.
And now, here he was—
dying, inexplicably, inside a game world.
In the cold darkness, he thought:
“Is this really the end?”
Silence.
His senses faded.
Was he dying—or already dead?
He didn’t feel fear anymore.
Just… emptiness.
[You have experienced death.]
Even then, he didn’t give up.
He had survived worse before.
He believed that as long as he didn’t quit, there would always be a way.
[Counting death records…]
[1 / 99]
But reality was cruel.
No matter how long he endured,
no matter how many times the world changed—
his essence didn’t.
He was still the same:
A bottom-dweller.
A man who never reached the starting line.
A man who broke when stepped on,
and scattered when struck.
A man destined to lose.
He cursed into the void.
“…Damn it.”
He didn’t want to die like this.
Even if it was childish,
he couldn’t accept that this was all.
“My life… can’t end here.”
Just once—
he wished for one more chance.
And as he sank deeper into the dark,
that desperate plea echoed endlessly.
[Trait: ??? has been partially unlocked.]
And suddenly—
He opened his eyes.
‘……What?’
His vision cleared.
In the endless dark,
a faintly glowing window appeared before him.
[‘Death Regression’ has been activated.]
[Preparing for Death Regression…]
