Chapter 2
Chapter 2
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 2
Chapter Title: The Birth of the Heinous Final Boss
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The final boss that every man dreams of becoming at least once.
Heinous, absolutely invincible, and...
Uh...
With my limited knowledge, no other four-character idioms came to mind to describe it further, but anyway, something like that.
I, Duke Awik, realized the moment I opened my eyes that I had seized that opportunity.
Why I had reincarnated wasn't particularly important.
It had nothing to do with my reluctance to recall the embarrassing memory of dying from electrocution after spilling cola on the power outlet while playing a Dynasty Warriors-style game.
Anyway, no.
I, Duke Awik, am a man who doesn't dwell on the past.
Instead, I decided to focus on the present.
This world, identical to the one in the game I was playing right before death, had such low barriers to entry for magic that its scale dwarfed Earth's by comparison.
If one territory here was the size of South Korea, that might give you an idea.
I never studied Earth science, so I have no clue about planetary sizes, but at the very least, it's incomparable to Earth.
The problem was that magic being accessible to everyone meant, in other words, that everyone harbored the potential to become a tyrant.
Just imagine it.
A world where one exceptional individual could replace an entire nation, like everyone carrying a handgun in their pocket.
In such a world, could equality, law, or morality hold any meaning?
'Of course not.'
You couldn't weigh a red dragon and a goblin on the same scale—this world was profoundly unfair.
What's more, killing people steadily raised your realm, making it a place where stabbing your neighbor in the back for that purpose was commonplace.
And I had reincarnated into that world.
Ordinary people wouldn't choose such a place for reincarnation. (If they had the choice.)
But I was different.
'This is a chance. To become the strongest being on earth.'
For me, it was an opportunity to become the final boss from games, movies, and the like.
With laws and morals being so lax, there were no obstacles to my growth.
Of course, the option of using moderate opportunities for a peaceful slow life crossed my mind.
But...
'Honestly, as a man, it'd be a lie to say I never imagined this even once.'
I'm just a guy with slightly higher adrenaline and testosterone levels in my blood than most, and overflowing with drive.
'Four hundred years ahead.'
Break through specific realms via training, and you become a superhuman.
The higher your realm as a superhuman, the slower aging becomes—much like the process of becoming an immortal sage.
In that way, after about eight hundred years of delayed aging through training, you'd reach the typical world-topping powerhouse level.
That's the benchmark for native inhabitants.
But I'm a reincarnator. Armed with knowledge cheats and a bit of talent. (No evidence for that.)
Monopolize the optimal growth paths and opportunities, and I could become the final boss in half that time—four hundred years.
Hell, four hundred years was more than enough to crush it without even trying.
"Wait for me, world!"
My chest began pounding like a man who hadn't run since childhood playground role-playing games—failing even to live up to its age.
— "Duke!!! Come eat!"
But first, I needed to grow big enough.
*
Thirty years into training to become the final boss.
I acquired information that would upend my entire life.
According to it, the premise of my goal was slightly off.
No, "off" was an understatement.
Completely, utterly wrong.
The world I reincarnated into wasn't just a simple game world.
'Well, it is a game world, but... no, it's not... or it is... argh, my head hurts.'
After a brief mental glitch from the shock, I gathered my thoughts and sorted it out again.
This world wasn't only the action game world I knew.
To be precise, it was the setting of a certain misconceived novel, two hundred years before its timeline.
The novel's title was I Don't Want to Be Emperor?
As the title suggests, the protagonist was an emperor who wanted to retire.
He didn't start as emperor but rose from a penniless commoner to the throne—that kind of story.
The absurd trigger for realizing this world was the I Don't Want to Be Emperor? setting?
About a decade into freeloading off my great patron partner, I learned he appeared as the mentor figure in the novel.
'Why of all names did it have to be Peter?'
I've met over ten Peters so far.
It's such a common name that I didn't suspect a thing for ten years after meeting him.
Once I realized the shocking identity of that old man... now a young man named Peter, I returned home, rolled around on my bed clutching my head,
and punched an innocent pillow while cursing the novel's author.
'There was no such explanation!!!'
I'm innocent.
The game had zero mentions related to the novel.
Well, strictly speaking, not entirely absent.
The novelist who wrote it got a job and made this action game.
But connecting the two works based on that alone was pure delusion.
'Of course, there were mentions... sort of...'
In the game, it was an Easter egg; in the novel, a fourth-wall-breaking gag line, mentioned once or twice.
Naturally, no fans seriously linked the worldviews over that.
'Who would've taken that as real foreshadowing?'
So my grievance is justified.
But feeling indignant now changes nothing.
I quickly pulled myself together and summarized the current situation.
One. I reincarnated into a game world.
Two. The novel protagonist possesses his body far in the future from my current point.
With that info in mind, I pondered briefly—
The pondering was short; the decision swift.
'If you can't beat them, join them.'
My original goal was to become an unrivaled world-topping powerhouse, rampaging wherever I pleased.
Rule as the final boss, then lose to a likable protagonist, wash my identity, and seek new concepts.
But if this was the misconceived protagonist's world, things changed.
'Scrap the demon king plan entirely.'
Turn the world against me, and a miscalculation touching the protagonist ends it all.
Misconception is a kind of divine power.
No matter my efforts, schemes, or buildup, everything crumbles before the protagonist's luck.
There were other reasons too.
'Bitcoin's at its bottom; how could I not buy?'
With guaranteed mooning, could I pass it up?
I'm not that kind of gay.
Honestly, fearing to antagonize the protagonist was an excuse; this was my true intent.
I'm ditching the doomed demon king role, but not the final boss concept.
'Aim for the protagonist's ultimate weapon.'
And his absolutely trustworthy second-in-command.
'He needs martial might anyway.'
The original protagonist peaks in internal affairs, strategy, and tactics, but his combat power is lackluster.
For him, a combat monster like me is indispensable.
'Target: second-in-command.'
The protagonist's first companion, the narrative glue, deepening the misconception—a perfect supporting role.
'A final boss like this could be fun.'
Like a subversive twist or something.
Think about it: in most stories, it's the second-in-command who shows up more often, not the top dog.
Some works even make the number two more famous.
My goal of a cool, frequent final boss presence might even be better this way.
'Once I rise, just fold my arms at cabinet meetings.'
Dump internal affairs and paperwork headaches on the protagonist; I'll focus on stylish scenes as I please.
Concept finalized.
Stern, perfect, flawlessly shrouded in mystery second-in-command.
'Oh, can't forget heinously wicked.'
Added overflowing charisma and utter heinousness.
Satisfied, I revised my plan and went to bed.
From that day, I moved immediately.
The plan was solid.
'201 years.'
Time remaining until the novel's start, inferred from my mentor's age.
'Must complete before the original begins.'
Once the original starts, the protagonist's allies grow at superhuman speeds by his side.
Already talented, they explode in growth via the protagonist's misfortune-reversing luck, management skills, and opportunities.
'Compared to that, my talent...'
I don't overestimate my talent.
If starting on the same line as them, I'd be lucky to sit at the kids' table, let alone second-in-command.
'200 years...'
Dangerous.
Jaw-droppingly short compared to my original four-hundred-year plan.
Four hundred was leisurely; two hundred demands risky gambles.
Bone-grinding effort as baseline, possibly staking my life.
I pondered briefly.
'Is it worth it?'
Yes.
A man's second life deserves that much risk.
'Gotta go all in.'
No compromises.
No time to waste pondering; I acted at once.
The growth process was excruciating.
Avoiding novel opportunities and hogging only game ones built massive grudges in every sense.
Thus, becoming a named superhuman in under a century drew envy and suppression from established ones.
— "Sorry, Duke. But didn't I warn you? In the superhumans' world, you must be ready to kill even your own child for realms. Don't resent me too much."
— "Duke, you wicked bastard! Raising your realm by killing your master—can you call yourself human? I'll avenge him by killing you!"
— "High realm, but short accumulation. Where'd this tasty morsel drop from? Duke Awik, eh? Tough luck."
Thus, longer-lived folks tried killing me to extend their lifespans, making sound sleep a luxury.
In washing blood with blood to survive, relationships grew tangled and backstories piled up, but I didn't care much.
In a world where people do anything for realms, I had no energy for their shamelessness.
'Positive mindset, positive mindset.'
I treated it as seasoning for my future second-in-command's complex backstory.
Framing it that way while dispatching enemies actually improved my mood.
Another hundred years passed.
Two hundred years since I set my mind to it.
One year until the original story's start.
*
One year before the main story, I launched Project Become the Original Protagonist's First Companion.
'I must be the one he meets first and companions with.'
First experiences matter for everyone.
And the "first companion" title carries narrative weight outweighing skill gaps.
So I planned meticulously.
'Ways to meet before the main heroine... none.'
I knew the protagonist's past, but variables were too uncertain or risked derailing the original flow—rejected.
To meet without disrupting the flow or variables, I had to time it around the main heroine.
'Sorry, buddy. Can't yield second-in-command.'
Unavoidable compromise here.
Originally, second-in-command was the main heroine's spot.
But me taking it naturally demotes her to third.
'As apology, I'll be your footbridge.'
Timing set; next, location.
'Start was definitely the mad scientist's lab.'
The story begins with the protagonist somehow dragged into the lab.
He escapes, finds the main heroine who left the next room first, and their adventure rolls from there.
I planned to insert myself into this narrative.
'I'll be the first test subject.'
Simple strategy.
Before the protagonist enters, become a test subject and the lab senior.
Build bonds inside, escape together.
This nets the first-companion title, half-succeeding the second-in-command project.
'Sorry, protagonist. Regrettable your first companion isn't your empress.'
Not much compensation, but I'll make you emperor.