《Life Simulation: Hero without Unique Skill》
Chapter 1
The dismissal bell, a discordant chime, ripped through the school¡¯s atmosphere, signaling the end of another agonizing day.
My breath hitched, a silent, desperate gasp lost in the chaotic symphony of departing students. 12:00 PM. The time I both dreaded and anticipated, the inevitable moment when Haruka would leave, vanishing into the throng.
And she did. She turned, a brief, polite smile flickering across her face, a casual acknowledgment that felt as distant as a star in the vast, indifferent cosmos. Then, she was gone, swallowed whole by the surging tide of students, leaving me stranded, adrift in a sea of my own unfulfilled desires.
My heart, a frantic captive bird, beat against my ribs, echoing the tumultuous rhythm of my thoughts. A single, luminous "1" pulsed in my vision, a cruel beacon in the desolate landscape of my reality.
Simulation Point Acquired: 1
It felt like a cosmic jest, a mocking reminder of my insignificance. One point. One measly point to reshape my entire existence, to bridge the seemingly insurmountable gap between myself and Haruka.
My fingers, trembling with a mixture of fear and anticipation, hovered over the air, as if I could physically grasp the notification.
Initiate Simulation?
The words, a silent, insistent question, mirrored the chaotic storm raging within me.
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I¡¯d been a spectral presence for so long, a silent observer in the radiant glow of her life. I¡¯d watched her from the periphery, a passive spectator in the grand theater of her existence.
A familiar knot of inadequacy twisted in my stomach.
What if I squander this chance? What if I stumble, make a fool of myself, amplifying my already monumental awkwardness? What if, in my desperate attempt to alter the course of events, I only manage to shatter them further? The fear, a cold, clammy hand, gripped my throat, threatening to extinguish the fragile ember of hope that had just begun to flicker.
But the alternative, the prospect of remaining trapped in this endless cycle of unrequited longing, was unbearable.
To be forever relegated to the sidelines, a silent, unnoticed observer.
To watch her drift further and further away, until she became nothing more than a faded memory, a phantom of what might have been.
I''d spent my entire life as a passive bystander, a silent protagonist in my own story. I¡¯d allowed fear to dictate my actions, to paralyze me into inaction. I¡¯d let opportunities slip through my fingers, like grains of sand through a clenched fist.
This single point, this solitary chance, felt like a lifeline thrown into the abyss. It might be a fragile rope, a threadbare opportunity, but it was a chance nonetheless. A chance to break free from the self-imposed chains of my own doubt.
My eyes, still fixated on the dispersing crowd, followed the fading silhouette of Haruka''s dark hair. The image burned into my mind, a constant reminder of the risk I was about to take.
My hand, now steadier, moved towards the glowing prompt. The fear was still there, a constant hum beneath the surface, but it no longer held me captive. I had to try. I had to take this chance.
"Initiate Simulation."
Chapter 2
Today, upon returning from school, Kazuma''s family received the joyous news that his father had won a billion yen lottery.
On the seventh day, due to the Kazuma family''s dramatically changed circumstances, he confessed his feelings to Haruka, and she accepted.
On the eighth day, news of Kazuma''s relationship with Haruka spread. A group of gangsters, fueled by resentment, confronted him after school. Despite his attempts to avoid conflict, they brutally beat Kazuma, leaving him hospitalized.
On the ninth day, Kazuma''s condition began to stabilize, but he still needed rest in the hospital. Haruka visited him. That was the last time he talked to and saw Haruka.
On the eleventh day, Kazuma was discharged from the hospital. Haruka didn''t visit, and when Kazuma tried to call her again, the call went unanswered.
On the fourteenth day, Kazuma returned to school but was shunned by all his classmates. Haruka, who didn''t respond to Kazuma''s calls and messages, was absent from school.
On the fifteenth day, when Kazuma rushed home from school, he found that his house had been robbed. His father was critically injured and in a coma. In a state of panic and sadness, Kazuma rushed to the train station to go to the hospital. While waiting for the train, he was suddenly pushed from behind. He suffered severe injuries and died.
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The simulation is over, your attribute doesn''t change, you don''t learn new skills, you get something with you before you die.
The frantic drumbeat of my heart began to subside, replaced by a hollow, echoing stillness. The phantom screech of brakes faded, leaving a ringing silence that pressed against my eardrums. I closed my eyes, the darkness behind my lids a temporary reprieve from the empty classroom.
The metallic tang, though faint, still lingered, a ghostly reminder of the simulated carnage.
I took a slow, deliberate breath, trying to anchor myself in the present. The cool, stale air of the classroom filled my lungs, a stark contrast to the thick, acrid scent of burning metal and gravel that had filled my simulated senses. I tried to reconstruct the events, to dissect the simulation, to understand the raw, visceral terror that had seized me.
The train had appeared suddenly, a monstrous steel beast hurtling towards me. I remembered the tracks, the rough, uneven gravel digging into my simulated skin as I stumbled, trying to escape. The roar of the engine, a deafening crescendo, had drowned out everything else. I could almost feel the vibrations, the earth trembling beneath my feet as the train bore down on me.
Then, the impact. A sickening crunch, a tearing sensation, and the world dissolving into a chaotic blur of pain and darkness. I remembered the overwhelming helplessness, the sheer, paralyzing terror of knowing I couldn''t escape. The feeling of my body being ripped apart, the crushing weight of the train, the final, agonizing moment of oblivion.
It wasn''t just a visual memory; it was a sensory assault. The phantom pain in my ribs, the metallic taste in my mouth, the lingering dread¡ªthey were all fragments of a simulated reality that had imprinted itself onto my senses, blurring the lines between what was real and what wasn''t.
Before analyzing this simulation, I need to calm down.