Young Master's PoV: Woke Up As A Villain In A Game One Day

I frowned hard.

The journal slipped from my hand and hit the floor with a soft thud.

"What the hell did I just read?

" I muttered, running a hand through my hair.

Those last few entries were a lot to digest.

I didn't understand some things.

Well, to my credit, most of what Rexerd wrote made no sense.

There were also continuity errors scattered throughout.

And some entries just sounded like the ramblings of a madman.

But even putting all that aside, there were plenty of things that simply didn't make sense to me because I had little to no knowledge about them.

Let's start unpacking this, one by one.

Soul Density, as Rexerd described it, was essentially a soul's potential to grow.

The denser it was, the more Essence it could absorb — and the higher it could ascend.

He claimed that this was what Spirit Force truly was — a strong soul exerting influence on the physical world.

I knew that.

Sort of.

But then he started talking about… Underreality?

What the fuck was that?

What does that even mean?

In his words, he described Underreality as literally the underside of reality.

The hidden framework.

A sub-layer of existence.

He said it was a plane of 'information' and 'data.

'According to him, the best way to understand Underreality was to imagine that every physical object in our world is made of codes.

These codes exist in the Underreality.

And if someone could edit these codes, they could change the physical object too — essentially rewriting reality.

Those who could do that — those capable of rewriting reality this way — were called Threadweavers.

I understood what he was trying to say.

But it still made no damn sense.

Primarily because nothing like that was ever shown — or even hinted at — in the game.

I wanted to believe him, but there was no proof of Rexerd's claims.

And his wording was vague.

Intentionally so, I assumed.

He said all the Threadweavers were dead.

But how the hell do individuals that powerful — people who could literally edit the world — end up dead?

That made no sense either.

And again, Rexerd offered no explanation.

So, for now, I had to file that one as some kind of myth.

After all, Rexerd was spiraling back then.

Maybe he read some old legend and decided to cling to it.

But then he mentioned a few other things… and I found myself forced to reconsider his words.

He brought up beings and places like the Spirit King, the Lord of Stories, Eternity's Sea, the Akashic Records, and Warlocks.

Truthfully, I had no idea what most of that even meant.

An ancient being called the Lord of Stories?

That sounded more like a teenager's fantasy novel pen name.

Eternity's Sea, where all knowledge is lost and found, and the Akashic Records — a book containing all knowledge?

Weren't those two concepts weirdly redundant?

Once again, I was ready to dismiss it all as myth and ramblings.

But then he mentioned the Spirit King.

And I obviously knew that was real.

He also mentioned Warlocks.

And while I didn't know what exactly they were, I had heard Selene Valkryn use that word too.

So, albeit reluctantly, I had to take his words a bit more seriously… and admit, once again, a terrifying truth:'I don't know everything about this world.

'I knew a lot.

From the game.

But the game hadn't explored every single concept, place, and character.

And so, my knowledge was limited.

Of course, I already knew that.

But I didn't like being reminded of it.

Because it meant there were still things I couldn't control.

And I really hated that feeling.

Anyway, the most shocking revelations came after that — in the last two entries.

Rexerd revealed that Origin Cards weren't the physical manifestation of our souls.

Which… honestly, surprised me more than anything he had written.

He said they were just shards of some divine artifact — fragments that bond with a soul and grow alongside it.

He mentioned the myth of the Nine Hands several times.

Another thing I had absolutely no clue about.

I made a mental note to research it in-depth later.

Then, Rexerd said he had his Origin Card extracted.

Which, again, was something I didn't even know was possible.

Because throughout the game, it was repeatedly stated that if your Origin Card breaks, your soul breaks too — and your body becomes hollow.

So… how the hell did Rexerd survive that?

I didn't know.

"That's why he didn't have an Origin Card when I fought him.

"Or when Michael fought him in the game.

He hadn't been hiding it.

Apparently, Rexerd didn't have his Origin Card anymore because he… gave it up.

Whatever the hell that meant.

Once again, I had no clue.

But then — finally — I got at least one answer.

Rexerd said he made a contract with a Scrient.

A type of Essent.

And became a Warlock.

So that ethereal creature he summoned during our fight — that was a Scrient.

And he was able to summon it despite not having an Origin Card… not because he was a Summoner, but because he was in contract with that Essent.

That led me to a theory of my own.

I'd been researching Warlocks and Warlock Marks a few days ago.

I didn't find much on that topic back then.

But now, I had a lead.

From what Rexerd had written, it seemed like a person becomes a Warlock by entering into a contract with a Spirit.

To be honest, I should've guessed that sooner.

It fits the traditional meaning of the word warlock — someone who makes a pact with an extraplanar being and gains magical powers.

Only I didn't know children's fantasy stories were a reliable source of study.

But that left me with another question: 'What exactly is a Warlock Mark, then?

And how does one even make a contract with an Essent?

'Some Awakened had contract-based powers — like Vince, for example.

His innate ability later in the game allowed him to force contracts onto others.

Even Spirit Beasts.

But he never became a Warlock.

So, was a different kind of contract required?

Once more… I had no fucking idea.

And that last revelation — that Monarchs were Warlocks — didn't even surprise me that much.

Mainly because I still didn't fully understand what a Warlock was yet.

And also because, even in the game, Monarchs were hiding a lot of things from the world.

The existence of the Spirit King, for instance, was a highly classified topic.

Only a handful of people knew about it.

They were also keeping countless other secrets — some of which the heroes eventually uncovered.

But after reading through Rexerd's journals now…It felt like even the heroes never uncovered everything.

"So much wasted knowledge," I sighed to myself.

I could've asked him so many things.

I could've learned so much from him.

Shaking my head, I rubbed my face.

"Damn it, Rexerd.

Why did you have to side with the Syndicate?

"It's not like I didn't understand him.

Rexerd craved knowledge more than anything else.

He was willing to fall to any depth, cross any line, to satisfy his curiosity and get the answers he so desperately sought.

All the while the Monarchs knowingly kept so much hidden from the world.

The ones hailed as gods in this era, the so-called protectors of mankind, had been lying.

To everyone.

When he discovered that, he must've felt… betrayed.

But no matter the reason, no matter the betrayal — nothing justifies murdering so many Awakened.

Because each one of those Awakened could've been a crucial warrior for humanity in the future.

And above all, nothing justifies selling out your own species.

He let his ambition consume him.

His obsession eclipsed his morality.

He sided with the wrong side.

"You idiot," I muttered under my breath, voice tight with frustration.

"You could've changed the world.

You had the knowledge, the brilliance, the madness required to do it!

Hell, you were halfway there.

"But you bet on the wrong side.

You trusted the wrong people.

You handed them your mind, your genius, your loyalty — and in return, they turned you into a weapon.

A pawn.

A tragic, brilliant pawn.

And now you're dead.

And all that's left of you are half-torn pages, impossible theories, and the trail of corpses you left behind.

I closed my eyes for a moment.

Let the silence settle.

"You fucking idiot.

"Right then, a very familiar, very annoying voice reached my ears.

"Oh my god.

You're talking to books now?

"I opened my eyes, expression flat.

And there she was — standing right before me like a vision out of a bad dream.

A beautiful girl with eyes blue like the azure sky, skin paler than ivory, and short hair as white as untouched snow.

Her tantalizing beauty might've been breathtaking… if not for the fact that she was soaked in blood from head to toe.

Juliana crossed her arms and gave me a sharp glare.

"First you were talking to a severed head, and now you're having conversations with journals?

"I blinked and glanced down at the journal near my feet.

"Shut up," I said with a deadpan tone, standing up.

"Did you dispose of his body?

""Yes," she replied impassively.

"Submerged the dismembered pieces in a containment tank.

Want me to get rid of these… things too?

"My gaze drifted around the room.

Rows of glass pods stood along the walls — each one containing some grotesque failure of a creature.

Mutated limbs.

Exposed muscle.

Stitched skin and twitching flesh.

Some were barely alive, others looked like they were praying for death.

Most were too disgusting to even look at.

All of them had once been human.

Many had once been Awakened.

"...

Yes," I said quietly, clenching my jaw.

"Kill them all.

But be careful.

Some of them have regeneration.

And don't discard their bodies.

They are evidence, after all.

Just put them down.

"Juliana nodded once, and for a second, the blood on her skin didn't seem quite so out of place.

I waved a hand and began walking away.

"But do that later.

For now… make me a cup of coffee.

And make it as sweet as possible.

"She raised a brow and looked like she was about to comment, but before she could, I paused and turned around.

Without facing her, I drew a Card from my Soul Arsenal.

Immediately, a Fire Arrow appeared in my grip.

I hurled it at the pile of journals on the floor.

The moment it struck, flames exploded outward — leather covers curling and blackening, ink bleeding into ash, and Rexerd's years of obsession reduced to smoke.

I watched in silence as the fire consumed his legacy.

Then, with a satisfied nod, I turned and walked out of the room.

Too much lore explored.

Now it was time to prepare for the half-yearly exams.