Repeat Vice - The Villainous Noble Doesn't Want to Die, So He Swore to Not Die As One of The Four Heavenly Kings - Chapter 82: Demonization

Chapter 82: Demonization

“Vice Story” was… not quite my life, but close enough.

I spent nearly 1000 hours playing it. 

I played through the story five times—well, four times completely and partway through the third Alchemy Empire arc. 

If I recall correctly, I died and couldn’t finish it. 

I forgot how I died. 

It might have been an accident, or I might have been stabbed by a random attacker. 

My last memory was going to the convenience store late at night. 

I had an ordinary life, if I do say so myself. 

My father worked at a small-to-medium-sized company, and my mother was a part-time worker at a supermarket. 

I went to local schools for elementary, middle, and high school, and then I moved to Tokyo for college. 

I chose a university in Tokyo because I wanted to live alone, and I thought there would be more job opportunities. 

My grades weren’t great, so I took out student loans and supplemented my tuition and living expenses with money sent from my parents and part-time jobs. 

My student life was, in a word, fulfilling. 

I was blessed with friends. 

We’d gather at someone’s house on weekends for takoyaki parties, or go clubbing… I sometimes failed courses from partying too much. 

Despite my high aspirations, I ended up working at a nondescript printing company’s reception desk. 

My main tasks were customer service, making tea, and administrative work—typical office lady stuff. 

A very mundane life.

My life took a turn when I got involved with my boss.

He wasn’t bad looking, had a career, and was kind.

But there was one problem.

I found out later that he was married with children.

Everyone at work knew except me.

He was apparently notorious for targeting new employees who didn’t know better.

I thought, “Someone could have told me.”

It was my first love, so I quit the company because of it.

I didn’t want to be around colleagues who pretended not to know or found amusement in my situation.

I regretted not dating more in college.

After that, I bounced between jobs.

I couldn’t stay long at any one company.

I had developed trust issues.

A concerned friend referred me to a psychiatrist, and I was diagnosed with depression.

From then on, everything seemed pointless, and I withdrew from the world.

But such misfortunes are common.

The reason I couldn’t bounce back from a single setback and didn’t even try was because I was weak.

I knew that, but knowing doesn’t make it easier to act.

I lived off the money and food my parents sent me while diving into the online world.

When people figured out I was a woman, I’d get flooded with messages from guys looking to meet, which was disgusting. 

So, I started referring to myself as “ore” (a masculine pronoun) to pretend to be a guy. 

Eventually, it stuck, and it became normal. 

It was during this time that I discovered “Vice Story.” 

A game that was trending online. 

Famous streamers played it, and it was popular in the news. 

So, I bought it, played it, and got hooked. 

The charming heroines and the classic fantasy story. 

It was so entertaining and touching that it flipped my misfortunes upside down and made me happy. 

I got so into “Vice Story” that I researched all sorts of things about it. 

Backstories, official setting books, and so on. 

I think the title “Vice Story” meant something like defeating the “God of Darkness” in the end. 

The official website had a tagline about a world shining white after the darkness was vanquished. 

I thought it sounded cheesy. 

Like a laundry detergent commercial slogan. 

After exhausting the official information, I delved into countless unofficial theories. 

There was a rumor that the scenario writer of “Vice Story” was part of a famous depressing game team and had subtly embedded dark themes into the game. 

I didn’t like this theory.

Despite a few minor issues, “Vice Story” ended with a relatively happy ending.

Everyone ended up happy—there was no reason it shouldn’t.

But now I think those dark themes were probably true.

After I died, I heard from the god who picked me up from the world.

That the ending after defeating the “God of Darkness” in “Vice Story” was actually a terrible scenario where the world was destroyed after the epilogue.

So, “Vice Story” was actually a deeply depressing game disguised as a happy-ending story for all ages?

Don’t joke about it.

You have no idea how much this bright story saved me.

The god asked me.

“Would you like to make this world have a happy ending?”

I agreed without hesitation.

I apologized to my parents for my early demise, wished misfortune upon the boss and colleagues who betrayed me, and resolved to save “Vice Story,” which had saved me.

Dreaming of a happy ending for the beloved characters—the original heroines.

I thought all the heroines loved the protagonist, Abel.

That’s why I wasn’t satisfied with the original story that didn’t end with a harem and left some heroines heartbroken.

But as long as the heroines were happy, there was no need for a harem.

I aim for the true happiness of the heroines in this real world.

Therefore, I couldn’t give up. 

For the happiness of the characters—the heroines—who once saved me. 

I would sacrifice anything for that. 

It was the ultimate selfishness—disregarding the characters’ wishes. 

So, even if she had a hole in her stomach or coughed up blood, she wouldn’t stop. 

Because even her life was just a stepping stone for the happy ending she sought. 

For “Vice Story,” which brought color to her gray world. 

Abel dragged his blood-soaked body, taking out the “Cursed Cleaver” and the “Demon Stone.” 

Raymond’s eyes widened slightly in surprise—then he mercilessly severed Abel’s arms with a spear of light. 

The “Cursed Cleaver” and “Demon Stone” fell to the ground, rendered useless before they could activate. 

“Despite being fatally wounded, you move well.” 

Raymond’s words were more of amazement than praise. 

With his stomach pierced and arms severed, bleeding more than a lethal amount, Abel’s life finally ended. 

At the moment of death, Abel’s body was enveloped in a holy light. 

“Ah! It hurts so much, damn it!”

From within the light, Abel reappeared, covered in blood despite having died.

Somehow, the hole in his abdomen was closed, and his severed arms were intact.

Holding the “Demon Stone,” he threw it at Raymond at point-blank range.

Raymond looked at the resurrected Abel with puzzled eyes but was immediately enveloped in light and disappeared from the spot.

The “Demon Stone” exploded in mid-air, and Raymond reappeared as light gathered above.

“Teleportation…!?”

It was the light attribute teleportation magic—”Fleeting Firefly Luciolmove.”

“Hmm,” Raymond looked at Abel with interest, tilting his head.

“I can’t believe the legendary resurrection artifact is real. Do you have only one? Or do you have more?”

“Corporate secret…!”

Abel pouted and fumbled in his pouch, pulling out another magical item. 

It was a stack of tarot cards with flames on them. 

But in the next moment, Abel’s arm holding the cards dropped to the ground. 

“Ahhhhh!” 

Severed arm, spraying blood. 

Raymond, without using any particular magic, watched it with disinterest. 

“Indeed, magical items are a threat, but that’s all. If you can’t use them, they mean nothing. You’ve already missed your chance to kill me.” 

Abel, screaming, was sliced by invisible blades all over his body, blood spraying as he died. 

Once again enveloped in holy light, Abel regenerated his wounds and revived. 

“Dammit…! ” 

Despite being exhausted, Abel’s eyes were still full of life, and he quickly reached into his pouch to pull out a new magical item. 

But the pouch at his waist was gone. 

“Huh… what?” 

“Looking for this?” 

Next to Raymond, a small figure wearing a poncho pulled low over its face was jumping around, holding Abel’s pouch.

That pouch was the “Wind God’s Bag,” filled with numerous magical items. 

Abel turned pale. 

“Some summoned beasts have a knack for theft.” 

“Gi-give it ba—guh!” 

Abel was stabbed in the back by an invisible blade and pinned to the ground. 

The blade had pierced through his stomach but skillfully avoided any vital organs, leaving Abel unable to move or die with his stomach impaled. 

“Invisible Mantis, an assassin specializing in ambushes. I never thought you’d actually take out magical tools from your pouch. It was so blatant I thought it was a bluff.” 

Raymond, who had descended from the sky, looked down at Abel with boredom. 

“Well, you can’t use magical items anymore. Now you can finally die.” 

In the next instant, Abel’s throat was slashed by an invisible blade. 

As his death was confirmed, Abel was once again enveloped in a holy light. 

The cut on his throat healed, as did the wound that pinned him to the ground. 

However, since the invisible blade was still there, the pain of being impaled once more struck Abel. 

A scream of agony escaped Abel’s mouth. 

Raymond tilted his head. 

“…? You’re still reviving. Do you have a resurrection magical item on you? It’s too much trouble to look for it. I’ll just kill you until you reach your revival limit.” 

From there, the invisible blade struck Abel repeatedly. 

Dying and coming back to life, only to die again immediately after. 

Endless pain, repeated deaths. 

With each death, the screams and cries of agony grew quieter and quieter. 

No longer having the will to resist or the intention to fight back, Abel had become a defeated rag, broken in spirit. 

In the end, he wept and trembled like a child. 

“Wh-why… why is… this happening to me… ” 

Abel’s weak voice, intermittently leaking out as his body was slashed. 

Raymond looked at his pitiful state with deep contempt. 

“What a pitiful sight. Flattered by the Six Gods, given a role beyond your capabilities, and foolish enough to come this far… I don’t enjoy tormenting, but since you won’t die, I’ll do it. But your limit should be near. You can die hating the magical item that keeps you alive meaninglessly.” 

Hearing those words, Abel vaguely saw the numbers floating in his mind. 

“Substitute Doll.” 

A magical item that nullifies death once within a certain time after activation. 

Abel had stacked it to its limit, gaining a stock of 99 lives. 

The number of uses of the “Substitute Doll” that floated in his mind. 

It was essentially the remaining number of lives. 

Those lives were rapidly dwindling. 

When that number reaches zero, would he be freed from this pain? 

Would he escape from this hell? 

Thinking such weak thoughts made him hate himself even more. 

Having no options left, only waiting for the flame of his life to extinguish. 

“I’m sorry, Abel… I’m really sorry for your body.” 

The remaining number of lives was zero. 

To take that final life, the invisible blade rose. 

At that moment, the Invisible Mantis stopped moving. 

“…? What’s wron—” 

Raymond frowned in confusion, then instinctively looked up. 

A chill ran down his spine like a blade’s edge. 

The atmosphere of the rooftop—or rather, the entire royal capital—changed.

Raymond’s mouth curled up unconsciously. 

A huge black shadow momentarily passed over the academy. 

The next moment, without a sound or presence, a shadow emerged from the shadow behind Raymond. 

“You’re late, Rofu—” 

Raymond turned to greet his friend who had arrived late, then his eyes widened. 

“—Dance.” 

Rofus, already wielding a massive dark scythe, unleashed a powerful black slash. 

Raymond’s vision was filled with darkness. 

The dark stream covered Abel, who was pinned to the ground by the invisible blade. 

The Invisible Mantis above Raymond and Abel was engulfed by the dark torrent. 

The tremendous magical wave, the overwhelming power. 

The aftershock shook the entire royal capital. 

When the dark torrent cleared, the Invisible Mantis, who had taken the brunt of the slash, had disintegrated, leaving only a few scythe and leg pieces.

Rofus looked down at the blood-soaked Abel and their eyes met.

Seeing Abel’s face, stained with blood and tears, Rofus narrowed his eyes.

“Pathetic. How does it feel to be dead?”

“Ro…fus…? Wh-why… I’m… sorry…”

From Abel’s mouth came stammered words of apology.

Rofus sat down and quietly asked.

“So, how many times did you die?”

As if he had been watching Raymond and Abel’s exchange.

As Abel tried to speak, a voice came from behind Rofus.

“—I don’t keep track of how many insects I’ve crushed. But you took your sweet time.”

It was the words of Raymond, who was majestically reigning in the sky.

Despite taking Rofus’s full-force dark scythe attack, he was unscathed.

A light barrier, advantageous against darkness, protected Raymond. 

Raymond, rudely interrupting the conversation between Abel and Rofus, faced Rofus’s icy glare. 

Feeling the killing intent-like pressure prickling his skin, Raymond sweated uncomfortably from his forehead. 

“… I wasn’t talking to you. Stay quiet for a bit.” 

“… ” 

Raymond, feeling as if Abel was being prioritized over himself by Rofus, frowned in displeasure but didn’t argue. 

He couldn’t. 

Why, Raymond questioned himself. 

Could it be that he feared Rofus’s pressure? Impossible, Raymond shook his head. 

“How many times did you die?” 

Repeatedly asked by Rofus, Abel’s eyes wavered as he forced out his voice.

“Pro…bably… ninety-nine times. Compared to Rofus’ twenty million, I’m nowhere near…”

“Why are you comparing yourself to me? Do you think we’re equals? Know your place, fool.”

Rofus coldly spat out these words, standing up and turning his back.

“…Even once is too much to bear.”

Simultaneously, Rofus lightly swung his dark scythe to the side.

In the distance, the body of Vine Wise, a monkey with tentacles, which had been fleeing and cowering in fear, split, and blue flames erupted, turning it into ashes.

The overflowing blue flames gathered around Abel, taking on a human form.

The blue flames gently embraced the fallen Abel and looked at Rofus.

“Rofus… thank you for saving my partner.”

From within the blue flames came Abel’s voice.

“And,” the blue flames continued.

“…On the day of the tournament, I attacked you without listening to any explanation. I assumed you were evil… It’s late, but I’m truly sorry.”

The blue flames bowed deeply in apology.

“You’re saying this now?” Rofus frowned and averted his gaze in irritation.

“You’re an eyesore, disappear immediately.”

“I’ve never felt so powerless… truly pathetic.”

The blue flames bowed again in apology and turned to leave, ensuring they wouldn’t be caught up in the imminent battle.

At that moment, Abel, who was being carried, leaned forward and raised his raspy voice.

“Rofus…!”

Rofus didn’t turn his gaze but quietly listened.

“I’m sorry… and, Rofus, you look so cool right now… like a protagonist…”

“Huh…?”

Abel, still in a daze, muttered those words as he was carried away by the blue flames.

“What are these people, really,” Rofus muttered in confusion.

Raymond, who had been silently watching this exchange, turned a cold gaze towards Rofus.

“What was that weak interaction?”

“Huh?”

“It seems the chill I felt from you earlier was just my imagination. I feel nothing from you now. No fear, no sharpness, not even a threat. When you were called the ‘Shadow Wolf,’ you seemed much more formidable. I thought you were the only one in the world who could match me, but it seems I overestimated you.”

Raymond’s words were mocking, and Rofus narrowed his eyes sharply.

He ran his fingers along the blade of his dark scythe, letting his blood flow into it.

The dark scythe, imbued with Rofus’ blood, began to change.

The darkness deepened, and the scythe itself shrank, as if its power was being compressed.

The dark scythe transformed into its original form, the “Scythe of the Reaper.”

“That is… the ancient magic I’ve heard about…?”

Raymond asked, and Rofus responded by swinging the “Scythe of the Reaper.”

An invisible slash that cut through everything.

Distance and hardness meant nothing.

High above Raymond, the clouds were split in two.

And the light barrier protecting Raymond cracked.

The crack—didn’t lead to a cut.

Rofus’ eyes widened in surprise.

“To think there’s something in this world that this scythe can’t cut…”

“That’s a grand statement. There’s an absolute barrier between your attributes and mine. Even if our magical power is equal in normal circumstances, I am currently in Demonization. No matter how hard you try, the gap in our power cannot be bridged.”

“…No, there’s one more thing.”

“…?”

“The magical power supply from the ‘God of Darkness.'”

At Rofus’ words, Raymond narrowed his eyes and fell silent.

Rofus smirked and continued.

“Your body is filled with jade magic power. You have almost none of your own magic power. Abel—or rather, he must have really gotten to you.”

“…”

Raymond’s expression shifted from one of composure to one of frustration.

“You lost to him. Without the ‘God of Darkness’ to help, you can’t do anything—you’re a loser.”

“Stop it, Rofus. There’s no need to irritate me pointlessly. The difference in our power is clear. Even your strongest ancient magic couldn’t hurt me. The outcome is already decided.”

“What nonsense, that’s the real grand statement.”

“Can’t you see the difference in our abilities? You can’t even stand on the same stage as me.”

“That’s it, Raymond.”

Rofus shrugged and sighed, as if trying to reason with him.

“You possess overwhelming power, yet you keep losing. You were defeated by Abel and his merry band, and just now, you were also beaten by someone using magical tools.”

Rofus mockingly tapped his temple with his finger.

“Overconfidence, arrogance, lack of imagination. That’s why you keep losing. It’s unlike your usual self. Has the mental pollution lowered your cognitive abilities?”

“Rofus…!”

As Raymond’s anger became apparent, dark magic power like the abyss began to overflow from Rofus.

And Rofus spoke.

“Demonization High-End—Reaper of Twilight.”

Rofus was enveloped in darkness.