No Way I'm Going Out
It was a perfectly ordinary day.
"Are you kidding me... seriously?"
Just another unremarkable day ending with a web novel.
"He just dies like this? Really?" Juhan let out a dry laugh.
Rolling around on his bed as usual, Juhan scoffed in disbelief at the screen. The sheer absurdity of the plot development had left him utterly speechless.
"You spent five hundred and fifty-two chapters building up to the final boss, only to kill him off in a single chapter?!"
It was exactly as he said. He couldn't even muster a proper laugh anymore; it was that ridiculous.
After all that insane build-up, the author had wrapped it up in the most anticlimactic way possible. It felt like getting smacked in the back of the head with a brick. The culprit, without a doubt, was that damn author.
To make matters worse, the explanation for the boss's defeat was laughably pathetic.
It basically boiled down to:
'Oopsie! I actually just resurrected, so I'm super weak right now~ Teehe!'
Or something equally stupid.
"Ah, that absolute bastard..."
His anger burned all the hotter because he had genuinely loved this novel until now.
How is the protagonist going to defeat the final boss? What will the boss look like? The battle scenes are going to be epic, right?
All of his grand expectations had crumbled to dust in an instant.
The author was a certified piece of trash.
Whew. No, I can't let this slide.
He had dragged his exhausted body to bed, preparing to read the final chapter with due reverence, only for...
A single chapter? That's all it took to end him?
He couldn't take it anymore. There was no way he could fall asleep in this state of pure rage.
*Tap, tap, tap.*
And so, completely losing track of time, Juhan began furiously typing away on his phone. He had to work the next morning, but that didn't matter. His goal was obvious.
This plot hole, and then this one...
Every single grievance he had accumulated while reading—the lack of consistency, the typos, the uploaded duplicate chapters, the constant delays... It was a treasure trove of complaints that only a die-hard reader who had followed the novel daily could compile.
Yes. Juhan had synthesized all of his grievances into a massive, sprawling comment that clocked in at a whopping 9,550 characters.
It had been a long time since he had focused this intensely on anything. He even felt a strange, twisted sense of accomplishment.
If he posted this, the author would be forced to read it out of sheer curiosity. And the moment he finished reading it... his career as a writer would be effectively over from the sheer psychological damage.
Juhan had even cleverly sprinkled compliments throughout the text, making it impossible to dismiss as a mere hate comment. It was a masterpiece of constructive criticism wrapped in pure malice.
Submit...
With a malicious grin, Juhan hovered his thumb over the post button. But just as he was about to tap it...
He paused.
"Hmm."
An inexplicable wave of hesitation washed over him, weighing heavily on his chest.
Was it guilt? Or perhaps pity? He couldn't quite tell. Maybe it was just the sudden thought of, 'Is it really necessary to go this far?' crossing his mind.
After all, the joy the author had given him over the years was real. He had felt genuinely sad when hiatus notices were posted, and his heart had ached whenever the characters faced hardships.
That was how deeply Juhan had immersed himself in this fictional world. More than anyone else, he had cared.
Yeah. It's not like the guy committed a capital crime or anything.
He clicked his tongue, wrestling with his thoughts.
In the end, his final decision was perhaps predictable. He chose not to post the comment.
Even if the ending of the novel was a little—no, a fair bit—no, an absolute, colossal pile of dog shit.
"I loved your story, you magnificent bastard."
Juhan had ultimately lost to the author. Perhaps this was what they called a love-hate relationship.
Fine. Just make sure you write some killer side stories to make up for this.
Having successfully rationalized his defeat, Juhan went to close the comment window.
"Wait a second."
But now that he had decided to delete it, a lingering sense of regret crept in. It was only natural.
Should I just save it for now?
The thought flashed through his mind: 'Maybe I'll just save it as a draft and see how the side stories turn out first.'
It made sense. He had spent over two hours writing this monster of a comment.
Even if he had been too absorbed to notice the time, throwing it away felt like a waste. So what if he kept it?
He wasn't going to post it anyway, deleting it felt like a waste, and it wasn't like the author could read a draft...
Yeah, let's just save it.
His thumb drifted away from the close button and hovered over the 'Save Draft' button. Just in case he ever needed to unleash his wrath. That was how much Juhan "loved" the author.
He moved his thumb to tap 'Save Draft.'
*Crack!*
"Argh! G-gah!"
A sudden, agonizing pain exploded in his head. It was no ordinary headache. It felt as if his entire brain was being dyed in a searing, blinding red.
*Thud.*
Before he knew it, Juhan collapsed onto the floor, unable to even draw a proper breath.
*Gasp... Wheeze...*
He didn't even have the strength to twitch a finger. He could only lie there, letting out ragged, pathetic wheezes.
Ah...
His vision began to blur, the world fading into a deep, ominous crimson.
Th-that...
The last thing Juhan saw through his fading consciousness was...
I didn't press it...
The 'Submit' button. The very button he had been debating whether to press just moments ago.
Of course, Juhan never actually pressed the 'Submit' button.
...
His body had already gone completely still. Only a lifeless young man remained, lying motionless on the cold floor of the quiet room.
And the final thought of the dying Juhan was...
I should have posted it...
That was his last regret.
It didn't take long after Juhan opened his eyes to realize he had reincarnated as the final boss of the novel.
Mostly because of the bizarre noises echoing from outside.
"...too late... God... resurrect..."
Who keeps shouting like that...?
At this point, he hadn't even fully registered the fact that he had died and come back to life.
The only thought occupying his mind was:
What kind of crazy bastard is screaming their lungs out?
Surely, someone would stop them soon. Judging by the direction of the noise, it sounded like it was coming from a busy main street.
Assuming it would die down shortly, Juhan tossed and turned slightly.
*Thump...*
But something was wrong.
The more he moved, the more a strange, heavy vibration reverberated in his ears.
*Thump...*
Are they doing some kind of civil defense drill?
Only when that thought crossed his mind did Juhan slowly flutter his eyes open.
"...?"
However, there was absolutely nothing to see. All that met his gaze was a pitch-black, suffocating darkness.
W-what is this?
The silence around him was so absolute it felt as if he had been cast out into the vacuum of space. This was supposed to be his bedroom. What on earth was going on?
And as his mind began to clear...
Wait a minute... I definitely...
Juhan slowly recalled the last moments of his life and the bizarre situation he had just experienced.
I should be dead. How am I alive?
If his memory served him right, he had collapsed on his bedroom floor, unable to move. Had someone found him and rushed him to the emergency room?
No, that makes no sense.
It was an impossible assumption. For starters, the number of people who had a key to his apartment could be counted on one hand. Besides, emergency rooms were supposed to be brightly lit twenty-four hours a day.
Yet this place was pitch black.
Ultimately, there was only one way to find out. He had to see what was happening outside.
Just a peek...
Fortunately, he wasn't completely disoriented. He could still hear the faint sounds echoing from a specific direction, even if no light filtered through.
It should be around here.
Juhan managed to navigate his way toward the source of the noise.
But it was bizarre. It felt as if he were separated by a thick barrier; only muffled sounds leaked through, and he still couldn't see a single thing.
Wait, now that I think about it, my body moves perfectly fine, doesn't it?
Nothing about this situation made sense. Unable to reach a conclusion, Juhan naturally pressed his ear as close as possible to the source of the sound.
"...!"
"...you..."
"...hey!"
Strange voices began to filter in, buzzing like distant mosquitoes.
They were definitely human voices. But there was something incredibly unsettling about them...
"...kill me... *gurgle*... what difference does it... think you can..."
"I don't... care... fine... let's do this, you son of a...!"
Wh-what on earth is this?
The words echoing from the outside sounded... strangely familiar. He had definitely never heard these voices before, so why did the conversation ring such a massive bell?
*Gulp.*
Before he knew it, Juhan swallowed hard, his body tensing up.
Alternating between 'No way' and 'Come on, that's impossible,' Juhan focused all of his senses on his hearing.
An incredibly absurd, stupid thought had taken root in his mind—the kind of ridiculous idea that would normally make him laugh at himself.
But then, a voice rang out clearly.
"O Lord... our God...!"
The very line he had desperately hoped not to hear. The exact dialogue from the novel he had read while cursing the author slammed into Juhan's ears.
"We pray... the world..."
Ah.
Juhan spiraled into a deep, dark abyss of despair. As the boundary separating him from the outside world grew thinner, the voices became terrifyingly clear.
I'm screwed.
It was just a single phrase. A single shout.
A desperate plea from cultists calling upon their god.
If I go out there right now...
Only then did Juhan objectively grasp the reality of his situation.
"Drown this world in darkness!"
There was no need for a long, drawn-out explanation of what was happening.
I'm going to die instantly.
Juhan was, quite literally, on the absolute brink of destruction.