This Life, I Will Be the Protagonist

"Nivalis," she said softly, her voice carrying faint weariness, "Shadow.Q isn't the same as before. She's one of Eclipse Vanguard's eight deputy legion commanders now."

The dragon's crystalline eyes flickered, like she hadn't quite expected that acknowledgment.

Shadow.Q let out a laugh—light at first, then settling into something steadier. She drifted forward, wings catching the fading sunlight, until she hovered side by side with Rita. For a moment, the three of them—human, dragon, politician—cut through the dusk like a constellation torn from the sky.

But Rita's gaze did not shift. Her eyes stayed locked on the battlefield sprawling beneath them: tens of thousands of players, battered but cheering, and the countless tiny blue sprites flitting among them, reborn souls glittering like fireflies after rain.

Shadow.Q followed her line of sight, staring downward. But her attention kept returning to Rita. From where she hovered, she could only see the younger woman's profile, her lashes lowered against her cheeks.

The twilight wind tangled Rita's hair into restless strands. With her twin wings glowing bright behind her, she looked more like a figure from myth than a player. And yet, for all that radiance, her expression remained shadowed, unreadable.

Shadow.Q prided herself on her instincts, on her ability to read emotions others buried. Tonight, they failed her.

She parted her lips, ready to finally offer what she had brought—gear polished to a gleam, a rare skill scroll, reassurance in the form of preparation. But Rita spoke first.

Her voice was low. Almost as though she were speaking to herself.

"Blue Star told me," she murmured, "that before Shanrane shouted that line, more than sixty-eight percent of souls here had already guessed why this war came so fast, so viciously. Because of me. Because I made Lania Kaia afraid."

The words hung heavy in the sky.

"So many clever people, don't you think? But of course. If they weren't sharp, they wouldn't have leveled this fast. They wouldn't have survived long enough to stand here at all."

Her lips curved in something like a bitter smile.

"But Blue Star also said this: every single one of them, whether before or after Shanrane screamed it, not one of them ever blamed me.

"And those who died… all of them died with hope. They believed, with every last breath, that as long as I returned, Blue Star would be saved."

She paused. Her fingers flexed once at her side, as though she needed to clench them into fists to keep her voice steady.

"The truth is… I never thought of this as my responsibility. I don't have ties here. I've never taken anything from anyone. Even with Eclipse Vanguard—our deals were always fair trade. Nothing more.

"When I killed Shanrane, I even thought, if someone resents me because of this, isn't that absurd? Isn't it?"

Her voice sharpened, a brittle edge surfacing.

"But four months of war, and not a single complaint. Not a single curse whispered in my absence. Before I returned, I was their reason to endure. And once I came back…" She laughed once, humorless. "All they've given me is gratitude. Reverence.

"…It's enough to make you despair."

The confession fell into silence.

She stood there armed to the teeth, every inch the warrior, the savior. Yet what she received in return was something she had never sought: faith, belief, near worship.

Her thoughts drifted—unbidden, unstoppable—to Arisentna, to a child with fox ears and silver eyes. Mistblade.

She remembered how Lightchaser had once wanted to punish Mistblade, when she returned again and again to aid the family that had stolen from her. Until Mistblade's quiet explanation: those were the last moon foxes, and she was the strongest. She couldn't abandon them.

From that day on, Lightchaser had never interfered.

Even when Mistblade scraped together funds to send home, trading in black market copies and risky equipment, Lightchaser's only response had been a disdainful snort.

But Rita… Rita had asked her once, alone. "How do you do it? How do you help people you hate?"

Mistblade had been barely more than a child. Her answer had been steady, almost regal:

"Because I'm the moon fox with the greatest gift. I'll be the strongest, too. And when the moon foxes face extinction, they're my responsibility. Yes, I despise them. But responsibility isn't dictated by my feelings."

Even then, she had carried herself like a monarch, born to shoulder burdens larger than herself.

Rita's gaze flickered. She thought, too, of the wanderers she had met in Chaotic Restaurant—the players who had lost their worlds. Worlds shattered into Graveyards, yet they refused the invaders' sanctuary. Instead, they chose exile. The cosmos itself as their prison.

Was it despair that sent them wandering? Or guilt? Or both?

Blue Star had called her BS-Rita, again and again.

The Divine Game had echoed it, again and again.

She had ignored it. Pretended not to hear. Pretended not to understand.

Beside her, Nivalis's breathing slowed, as if afraid even sound would shatter this fragile confession.

Shadow.Q couldn't look away. Rita looked… wounded. Like some belief she had clung to for years was fracturing.

She opened her mouth—ready to offer words of comfort she didn't really believe herself—but Rita ended it.

"Did you find the skill?"

"Ah!" Shadow.Q startled like a guilty child. She scrambled, pulling out the scroll and equipment she'd gathered.

Rita took them without hesitation. She strapped the armor over her platinum robes, the polished metal catching the last of the twilight. Then she unrolled the scroll, eyes narrowing as she read. She nodded once, decisive, and absorbed the knowledge.

[Multiline Combat] (SSS): Creates a clone with identical stats but only half the HP. The clone can use all skills of the original. Each clone lasts at most one hour. If a clone is killed before being dismissed, the original loses 5% max HP, sealed for two hours. No more than ten clones may exist at once. Cooldown one hour.

It was a perfect fit. Demanding, risky—but not fatal. And if the worst came, she still had Mystic Force in reserve.

From her pack, she drew out box after box, neat and identical, the seals glowing faintly. She shoved them toward Shadow.Q. "Meals and potions. Hundreds."

"I'll ration them—"

"No need." Rita cut her off, sharper this time. She closed her eyes, let out a long, quiet breath, and repeated, softer, "No need."

Shadow.Q stared at her for a beat, then smiled faintly. She thought she finally understood—why Rita ached, why she seemed to wrestle herself at every turn. She tucked the crates away with care.

Maybe the moment Avery had been waiting for was drawing near at last. Not early. But not too late either.

And before she withdrew, she gave in to a sliver of selfishness. Rita had carried too much, given too much. How could anyone demand more?

So her voice came out gentle, even warm.

"Then do only what you believe is right. Eclipse Vanguard will carry the world behind you. That's what we agreed on… wasn't it?"