The Case of Being Reincarnated as a Heretic Mob Character in an Eroge Where Everyone is Extremely Determined - Chapter 13

Chapter 13: The Only One Who Lacks Determination

Steve fired an arrow from his crossbow. The arrowhead was coated with a deadly poison.

I bent my body as much as I could to dodge the arrow and, with a sliding motion, clung onto Steve’s torso.

“Ugh!?”

Steve was overpowered and pushed to the ground.

Then I pulled the knife from my waist and pressed it against his throat.

The conclusion came in an instant. Steve seemed to concede, his body going limp.

As I pressed down on Steve’s neck, ready to slash with the knife, an eerie sensation touched my hand.

—Lifeless rubber. Cold skin devoid of any vitality.

Noticing the abnormal coldness of Steve’s body, I felt as if I had been struck by a heavy blow to the head.

Not a single drop of blood was coming from the surface of the neck where the knife had cut.

(…Is he dead? Is Steve already being controlled by Pork?)

I almost let out a gasp. A torrent of memories flooded into my core, and my body froze in place.

Pork’s surveillance remark… The ability to automatically control a corpse that has been infected with the thorns’ poison.

Steve’s body, which I had touched twice and found cold… I should have realized her method of surveillance earlier.

The fact that Steve didn’t pass out when I struck the back of his head with a hand chop could also be explained if he was already zombified.

After all, Steve had already lost what could be called his consciousness.

—Pork’s controlled corpses are called Autonomous Operation Types, and they can follow various commands while sharing sensations—

Remembering that text, my eyes were riveted to Steve’s.

I’m being watched. Sensations are being shared. In real time.

How did I get into this situation?

I struggled to find the words to express myself. My thoughts were spinning in circles, and my entire body, which should have been cooled by sweat, was heating up again.

“How should I deal with this… I’ve dug my own grave. Desperate for salvation right before my eyes, and yet, by getting greedy, I’ve fallen even deeper. Trying to protect others when I can’t even protect myself, what was I trying to do?

―It’s checkmate, isn’t it.

“…Hey Steve, can I ask you something?”

“…What is it?”

“Do you think I’ve gone crazy?”

“Huh?”

Just as I was about to kill Steve, I suddenly gave in to an impulse and slammed my forehead onto the ground.

Once wasn’t enough. Twice, three times. I exerted my entire upper body with all my might.

“Hey, hey! What are you doing, Oakley!? Have you lost your mind!?”

The sound of my skull shattering echoed in my brain.

Fragments were piercing through.

Sparks flashed in his vision, and a muffled voice echoed here and there.

What does it mean to save the world?

How can a human who can’t even properly protect their own life become a hero?

(…? Is that someone’s voice I hear…?)

Let’s sort out the situation. Take a deep breath and calm down.

It’s as if someone’s voice is melting into my brain.

Suddenly, as I return to a calm state of mind, goosebumps cover my entire body.

(Ah… what have I done…)

A litany of screw-ups… no, such a cute term doesn’t begin to cover the foolish acts I’ve committed.

There’s no end to the regret, but the desperate actions of a cornered human being flash through my mind.

(Haha, what am I doing? Let’s reload from the save point and… ah, no, that’s not it… how do I start over?… Ah? W-wait, that’s not right. Something’s off with me… what am I saying…)

Wait, hold on. This is bad. Calm down. My heart is clearly weakening.

I’m hoping for Steve, a Believer who empathizes with me, to appear and for the protagonist’s salvation to become visible, thinking I’ll finally be saved, but deep down I understand that things aren’t going to go well at all, realizing that Steve is already dead and at the same time noticing that I’m in a complete checkmate situation—

Why did I head straight for my destination?

Despite being told I was being watched by Pork, why didn’t I prioritize my own safety?

Just thinking about today’s blunders, I’ve been digging my own grave. Regret races through my mind, and my limbs thrown on the ground begin to twitch.

Steve had gotten up and was saying something, but I couldn’t hear anything.

My ears are messed up.

(Ah… no, this is bad. My body feels wrong. I can’t stop shivering. It’s strange. My chest is tight. I can’t see. I can’t hear. I can’t breathe. Shit, this is not good—)

I’ve been repeating naive words like ‘it’s just like the original work’ as a form of escapism, but now I’ve clearly hit a dead end, and I fully understand that.

My body is all wrong in various places.

I’m drenched in a choking stench of death, exposed to an immense level of stress I’ve never experienced in modern Japan, and I’m on the verge of insanity right now.

My mental and physical sensations don’t match, and my mind is splitting apart.

(Ah, ahh, ahhh)

The protagonist.

The original work.

How many times have you uttered those words?

(Stop it…)

It’s as if you’re the only one here without any ‘determination’ to live in this world.

There are people who feel like customers and people who feel like they are bystanders.

(Stop, stop it… Please stop!)

Inconsistent and half-hearted actions.

Thoughts mixed with desires.

An all too imperfect self-preservation.

It’s only you… lacking both the realization… and the determination.

That’s why it turned out this way.

(Realization? Determination? What are those? This is a world modeled after the ‘original work’. Characters act according to the plot of the story!! A mob character like me doesn’t matter to them!! Because I don’t appear in the original work!!)

My fragmented personality is screaming.

The me who wants to be a bystander, the me who wants to show off my knowledge of the original work, the me who’s so sure I can’t die of anything other than old age because I lived in Japan, the me who tries to laugh off what I don’t understand as ‘ah, these characters are just crazy’, the me who keeps droning on about the story of the original work…

I hate them all.

I want to drive all of these ‘selves’ out, but how can I possibly do that when I’ve been suddenly thrown into this world?

The half-hearted me can’t completely abandon my humanity.

(Ah, I understand… I know… I just have to let go… I have to let go, I know that… but it’s impossible…)

The me who lines up my knowledge and pretends to be a bystander—clinging to the illusion that my real body is sleeping somewhere in Japan.

The me who can’t forget the peaceful life in Japan and keeps dreaming about it.

Warm meals, a secure place to sleep, privacy ensured, a clean environment, abundant entertainment… thinking that I’ll have them all again… once I return…

Have you forgotten?

You’re a character in this world, and this is reality.

Things in reality don’t go according to the script.

(No, the original work branches into countless routes depending on the protagonist’s choices―)

Hey, hey, the countless routes are prepared by the creators, right?

There’s no god in this world who decides the plot. We are the ones who make all the decisions.

That’s why everyone is desperately trying to do their best.

Somehow living, somehow winning, and as a result, making the future they envision come true.

There are no mobs in this world. Even if their influence may be small compared to people with status or honor, they can still move the world to some extent.

In fact, you’ve been in contact with Joanne, Juanquiro, Pork, and the others, and you’ve had some influence, right?

In a game, ‘mobs’ wouldn’t interfere with the script, but this is reality.

No matter what, everyone is alive.

This is outside the original work, so not everyone will act as you expected.

(I don’t want this… I can’t do it!! I don’t want to live in such a world!!)

My heart is pounding wildly. My vision is distorted by tears.

Tremors run through my body, and vomit is flung from my convulsing throat.

Through the blurred sight, Steve is forcibly smearing a potion he concocted onto my forehead.

(I have to save the protagonist… the protagonist…)

Why are you trying to save the protagonist?

What about your own life?

Or is there some guarantee… that you’ll definitely survive?

There’s no such thing as a save point.

Once you die, it’s over. That’s why everyone is trying so hard.

It’s only natural. In this crazy reality, the original protagonist is just another person.

Prioritize your own life!

(…But… if I save him, everything would work out somehow…)

Hey, have you forgotten the protagonist’s background?

He was a very ordinary person until he became an Orthodox soldier.

It’s precisely because he went through such tragic experiences that he transformed into a hero of the Orthodox faith with a kind of insane mental strength.

It’s a bad move to mess with things carelessly.

Don’t you understand that?

Or did you develop a conscience upon witnessing a massacre?

Did you want to feel psychologically saved by helping someone—by helping the child who was a potential hero?

(As if that’s the case…)

First of all, can anything be done by saving him?

What’s your concrete plan?

Even if we’re in a world where there’s only the ‘route’ you believe in, which route will you take?

Why do you think our future is only on the correct official route?

Even if you save the protagonist, what happens next is unknown.

You believe that by saving the protagonist, the correct ‘route’ awaits, but there’s also the possibility of heading towards the protagonist’s dark fall route or the annihilation route—a ‘game over’ timeline that doesn’t even remain in memory.

Is it really okay to leave yourself to such an uncertain flow?

Of course it’s not okay. But you haven’t even thought about anything.

You hated the idea of deviating from the original work… and didn’t take any action.

You continued to let yourself be carried along by the flow…

You said want to escape this religious war, but you didn’t even think about desperately seeking asylum abroad or preparing to defect to the Orthodox side.

(…)

There are some parts that can’t be helped, but the recent failures are too much to overlook.

How about waking up and change yourself?

(I… want to keep dreaming. I don’t want to live in reality. I enjoy ‘The Seeker of Yumei’ as content…)

Let’s put an end to this.

Live in reality.

(…I can’t do it. This world… is too harsh for me…)

Even at this point…are you still hesitant?

(People are dead)

Ah yes, countless are dead.

(Dead like they’re insects)

Trash, that’s what they are. You’re probably going to die soon too.

(No way. There’s no way I’m going to die. Surely someone will come to save me. Ah, look, Joanne. She likes me. She’ll come to save me somehow, like a hero)

Joanne might like you, but I doubt she would prioritize you over the mission of the cult leader.

If she were to prioritize you, she would have been clinging to you even during this whole operation, right?

(…)

Her love might be heavy, but that’s probably all there is to it.

You know, all the Executives are all about Aaros-sama first.

(…I want to die)

Then why don’t you try dying?

But this dream won’t end.

(…then what should I do?)

Think. Conquer the real world.

You can’t rely on others anymore. It’s not the time to talk about what the original protagonist would do.

If you’re always seeking salvation, you’ll remain weak. Strong people seize their own salvation.

Just like the protagonist of a story.

(…can I really turn this situation around?)

It’s not about whether you can do it or not.

You have to do it. There’s no other choice.

That’s the kind of world this is.

So…

Are you ready to make your own determination?

(…There’s no choice… Weren’t those your words…)

Don’t force roles onto the protagonist.

Don’t think someone else will take on the role of the hero for you.

Don’t run away. Don’t give up.

I’ll do it. You’ll do it.

Seize the best future with your own hands.

(…I think a life just being swept along is easier though…)

With those words, the fragmented personality reaches a state of resignation.

After a brief moment of division, fusion.

My entire body was filled with a grim determination.

“――!―Ley! Oakley!”

When I woke up, I found myself bound hand and foot, sprawled out in the town square.

“It was quite a shock when you suddenly went mad. It’s not like you at all.”

“…”

Blood was streaming down from my forehead, and the moment I became aware of the wound, it began to throb sharply.

“Can you untie me, Steve?”

“I refuse. Just stay put until Pork-sama arrives.”

It seems there is indeed a mental connection between Steve and Pork.

Steve, without blinking an eye, was overlooking the city of Metashim which had turned into a sea of flames.

My relationship with Steve had been irrevocably severed. His attitude had become even colder.

Well, there probably was never any friendship to begin with.

First of all, this guy is a corpse. A puppet controlled by Pork. But there’s no doubt that he supported my heart when it was about to break.

I expressed my gratitude to Steve.

“Thanks to the potion, I feel a lot better. Thank you, Steve.”

“…”

“I had a dream. It was a damn tough one… but thanks to that, I’ve found a goal in my life.”

“?”

I wonder if my declaration has reached Pork as well.

I’ve made up my mind.

I won’t rely on the protagonist anymore. I will face reality with determination.

…It’s a grim determination. And yet, it’s just a decision.

The situation hasn’t changed from a while ago.

If anything, it’s gotten worse.

My body will be handed over to Pork, and through Juanquiro, I’ll likely be subjected to torture or something of the sort.

The chances of dying are probably higher than surviving. Even so, it feels considerably easier to die facing the challenge than to die fleeing in panic.

….

The city of Metashim burns.

Soon, the fire is extinguished, and it falls under the control of the Heretic.

After a while, Pork lands next to me and pats me on the shoulder.

“I have something to discuss. Let’s return to the base and talk about it slowly.”

Pork narrowed her eyes as she twisted her lips into a smirk.

As she snapped her fingers, Steve crumbled to the ground, never to move again.