“You had fun, didn’t you?”

That friend who recommended this terrible game definitely went on about it like that.

“The Heroes of Dark World.”

It was a game with an interesting story, I’ll admit that much.

A player summoned into a world racing toward its end, teaming up with God-chosen colleagues to save the world—a story as common as they come.

However, it was the complex and captivating lore, the adrenaline-pumping flashy action, and high-resolution character illustrations that captured the hearts of hipsters with somewhat twisted tastes, and the game shattered records in popularity.

But there were the brutal difficulty levels that rendered the community guides useless, and the characters dying left and right. The bleak and grim world, coupled with a pure skill-based challenge, split opinions right down the middle. I felt the same way. Sure, the story was engaging enough to keep me hooked, but I had to throw in the towel when my keyboard shattered about four times.

The reason I’m telling you this is that I got sucked into this terrible game.

Not as a summoned hero in this world, but as the second son of a common noble family.

The problem was that our family was an insignificant, powerless, backwater nobility, and I was born with absolutely no abilities—just plain naked me.

But the real issue was that I had never actually completed this game.

In a world where a prophesied end exists…

With no power, no knowledge, no skills, and all I’ve got is my own body.

As I lay in my cradle, watching a spinning toy, I came to a conclusion.

I must succeed, no matter how ridiculous it gets.