Chapter 1
Chapter 1
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 1
Chapter Title: Prologue
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“Hey, Arthin! Go buy me some breakfast bread and milk. With your money, of course.”
I hate this goddamn novel.
At first, I thought it was a proper fantasy. The title—Songs of Stars, Seas, and Poems—caught my eye amid a flood of regression stories.
It had no fancy cover, no polished illustrations, just single-digit views. Something about that piqued my inner hipster itch.
But when I cracked it open? No regression, no satisfying payoffs—just the kind of outdated drivel a clueless fortysomething would churn out.
A clichéd academy setting, a cookie-cutter goody-two-shoes protagonist who was all bottled-up frustration. Tired tropes that might've been hot twenty years ago.
Shit, why the hell did I even read this? I still can't wrap my head around it.
And get this—for some reason, I even supported it, worried it'd die unpublished. Hell, I recommended it to friends.
Then, after the author botched the ending, I left a one-line comment saying I was disappointed. Woke up the next day as a character in this accursed novel?
“You deaf or what? I said go buy bread and milk. Don't make me say it a third time.”
Unfortunately, the blond asshole bulging his eyes at me right now isn't a stranger.
This was a regression story without even a main protagonist, and here I am with two of those fancy perks.
The guy I possessed—Arthin Ludwig—only shows up in the original as the punching bag for this loudmouth, Rexton Wise, who's yelling his head off right now.
And Rexton? He gets offed as a sacrifice for dark magic or something. Memory's fuzzy, but he's the type who gets used up like that. No wonder he's got trash talent and low status—I've died four times already because of it.
Wouldn't it have been great if I'd possessed that blond pretty boy instead? Rexton reappears in the original as one of the Demon King's Army executives. Starting as a bad boy makes for an easy vibe shift.
“You ignoring me now? You were so obedient for a while there—finally lost your mind?”
As I keep ignoring him, people around start giving Rexton these slightly pitying looks. He notices and starts bellowing even louder, trying to intimidate me.
Right before I died last time, I was trekking the frozen northern wastes to smash the Demon King's skull. And as always, death reset me to day one of academy enrollment.
Now I'm taking the same abuse from this pathetic bully for the fifth time.
Truth is, in my first four regressions, I deliberately avoided Rexton. No way did I want to get targeted by a guy talented enough to become a Demon King's Army exec.
But this bastard keeps showing up, relentless. Flee the academy? He finds me. Stick to the protagonist? He turns into some overpowered villain and screws with me anyway.
Arthin's family is a baronet house vassal to the Wise Family to begin with. Maybe possessing this body came with this annoying fated rivalry baked in.
“You fucking retard!!”
Rexton bellowed out of nowhere.
At the same time, his kick to my gut sent me tumbling ignobly across the ground.
“Think I'd go easy on you just 'cause it's the first day? I'll personally beat some sense into that thick skull of yours.”
A thought hit me. No matter how much I dodge this prick, he always comes back. Why the hell should I be the one running?
Am I supposed to keep avoiding the shit I've been dodging because it's filthy, even when it's pissing me off?
Even as that thought crossed my mind, Rexton smirked, clearly pleased with me sprawled on the dirt, and sauntered closer.
“Apologize and crawl between my legs right now, and I might forgive you with just twenty lashes?”
At those words, I clenched my fist and silently bowed my head. Rexton crossed his arms, looking smug and satisfied.
“That's right. Head down suits you. Just looking at that gloomy mug of yours sours my mood!”
The moment he thought he'd established dominance and grinned in triumph—
Thwack. A pebble shot from my left hand smacked Rexton's forehead.
While he reeled, dazed from the impact, I grabbed his waist, tackled him to the ground, hooked my legs around his torso, and mounted him.
He came to and spat curses, trying to throw me off with brute force. But his talents lie in necromancy and alchemy, not physical combat. He couldn't shake my technique.
In that window, I smashed my pebble-grip fist into his face.
I crushed the wrist he flung up to block, pinning it with a rock. Rexton let out a delightful scream.
“You think I've been avoiding you out of fear all this time?”
The repeated smacks to Rexton's face echoed. His furious yells soon turned to pathetic pleas for mercy. The warm splatter of liquid on my knuckles felt incredibly refreshing.
“When you led demons to burn the city as the Demon King's vanguard—”
Terror started frosting Rexton's gaze as he looked at me. I didn't stop, pounding his face until I felt his nasal bone crunch through my fingers.
“When you turned yourself into a chimera for revenge—”
“When you stuck with those cult bastards and obstructed us at every turn!!!”
By now, he seemed unconscious, limp as a ragdoll, but I kept pulverizing his face. That's when people around grabbed me to pull me off.
Even with my arms restrained by strong hands, I kicked his jaw with my foot.
“Even when you sold your soul to the Demon King and became a lich—I never lost to you, you pathetic fuck!!!!!”
Ah, shit. This is bad. The story's gonna derail hard. Off the top of my head, at least five key opportunities are ruined, and building rapport with that frustration incarnate of a 'good' protagonist just got way harder.
I know my options are limited in this derailed world. That's why I've held back until now.
But while my cooling reason knew that, my head buzzed with exhilarating relief. The adrenaline surging through my heart delivered a thrill on another level from barely smashing that Demon King's Army exec's mug after endless hardship.
Yeah, whatever. If it crashes and burns? Already did four times and restarted.
Fuck it, regress again. That thought eased my mind.
No one remembers my failures anyway, and nothing can stop a new regression.
This regression power was prepared solely for me in this world—known only to me.
“Hahahahahahahahahahahahahaha!!!!”
I let the laughter bubbling from my chest explode. I didn't want to hold anything back anymore.
The students who'd been trying to restrain me moments ago now backed away, eyes wide with fear.
Makes sense. I'd just beaten a guy till blood sprayed, and now I was cackling like a maniac—who wouldn't be scared?
But damn, this rush is unreal. No wonder people crave those cathartic beatdowns. Half my life's been wasted not knowing.
“You first-years! What the hell's this commotion on the first day of enrollment?!”
The female teacher who finally showed up, yelling as she ran—what did she see?
One male student with a face turned to mush, eyes rolled back, passed out.
Me, right hand and clothes splattered with blood, laughing like a madman.
She froze for a second, expression blank, then snapped to. Her face paled, hands trembling as she drew her wand from her belt.
“R-Red-haired boy! Hands up! Don't resist—just surrender quietly!”
Tears welled in her eyes like she wanted to bolt, but her resolve to protect the students gave her courage. She aimed the wand at me and shouted fiercely.
As the high faded, I didn't care anymore. I raised my arms and surrendered peacefully.
But for some reason, the wand started glowing brightly.
“Kyaa! I said don't move!”
I felt a green beam slam into my chest, and my mind went black.
Fucking bitch, you told me to raise my hands.