There’s a game called Dark Web Soul—better known as DWS.

A controversial title that has firmly held first place in every magazine as the worst depression-inducing game ever made.

At the same time, its meticulously crafted scenario also ranked number one as the ultimate tearjerker and sent countless players into a frenzy.

The protagonist is reincarnated from modern Japan into another world and begins in a forest, knowing nothing.

Strange creatures, a first village, a town, a whole world you can freely explore.

But as you enjoy the world, demons known as Majin appear in the world of DWS. In other words, the bosses.

There are various choices along the way, but the ultimate objective is to defeat these Majin to clear the game.

And this is where the depression-game aspect truly shows its fangs. These Majin possess a garbage-tier ability.

They can curse someone and force them into Majinization.

Humans burned by black flames transform in agonizing pain into monsters.

Their appearance is horrific. Their skin turns pitch black, and they look no different from beasts.

They lose their sense of self and become monsters that slaughter everything they see.

That is exactly why it’s praised as the ultimate depression game.

Just imagine it. A character you thought was cool, or your favorite heroine, undergoing Majinization and standing in your way as an enemy.

And the worst part is you only realize who they are after you kill them.

You slice flesh, shatter bone, crush the heart—and what appears is the person whose affection level you raised the highest.

—Yeah. It’s the worst. Seriously. Just die.

The first time I played it, I felt genuine nausea toward the developers.

The Heroine who had been kind to my clueless, toddling self, sometimes strict but always guiding me, appears as a pitch-black monstrosity. I thought I was going to throw up.

Worst of all, after they die, they revert back to human form.

Anyone who doesn’t feel sick at that is the weird one.

And it’s not just one or two people who undergo Majinization. The slower the player clears the game, the more victims there are. A brutal system.

But it gets even worse.

Even if you clear it at the fastest possible speed, there are characters who cannot avoid Majinization.

I nearly lost it at the developers. No, I did lose it.

They prepared rescue routes for the heroines, but not a single salvation route for the Master who first taught you the sword.

And it’s not just one character. It’s three.

Just because they’re older doesn’t mean they deserve to die.

What the hell, devs? Don’t you understand the appeal of nurturing, motherly types? I wanted to write a hundred essays explaining the greatness of elegant older women. Actually, I did send them. Never got a reply though.

I seriously wanted to beat the concept of warmth into them.

And then—

I got reincarnated into that genuinely nauseating DWS.

Not as the protagonist.

But as a mob character.

A nobody with no abilities, barely any magical power, a bottom-of-the-barrel errand boy named Ray.

“Ray… you’re still swinging your sword? You’re aiming to become a supply porter, aren’t you? There’s no need to go that far.”

At night, alone in a plaza near a run-down town, I was swinging my sword.

Appearing without a trace was the Sword Demon, Lesley.

Her wolf-cut red hair glowed under the moonlight, revealing sharp eyes and striking beauty.

She was 28 years old, yet her skin was flawless. Her chest strained tightly against her clothes.

No matter the cold, her midriff was always exposed. Her waist was tight, her abs sharply defined.

On her back was her beloved blade, Yatagarasu.

Though unable to use magic, she rose through sheer swordsmanship alone. A true powerhouse.

And the one who taught me the sword.

My Master.

And in DWS, she was literally called Master, a popular character.

“That doesn’t sound like you, Master Lesley. Back then, you used to say ‘A thousand more.’”

With a faint smile of nostalgia, Lesley looked up at the night sky.

“Has it already been five years since the day I first met you?”

We met in a trash city called Duarna, a gathering place for criminals. She worked as a bodyguard for a certain gang there.

It wasn’t a coincidence. I had searched for Lesley from the start.

It was brutal. I wasn’t the protagonist. I was Ray, the village dropout. It took me three years just to get out of the forest.

I studied swordsmanship alone, killed monsters, drenched in blood as I passed through towns and countries.

Why go that far?

Because I loved DWS. And I loved Master.

I cleared every garbage mechanic—special dialogue events unlocked after a hundred clears, that smile you only see by mashing the B button all day.

Of course I’d bleed to meet her.

But the worst part was that Lesley was heading straight toward a different bad ending route.

DWS has countless choices, and depending on them, you might never see a character again.

One of Lesley’s worst routes is a side episode: what happens if the protagonist never meets her?

She’s hated by the world, betrayed, unable to escape hell. She scavenges mud and scraps in a trash city until she dies. Swordsmanship? Useless. Because when she helps someone, she’s betrayed and both her arms are cut off.

And I arrived at that exact moment.

What the hell is the protagonist doing, damn it?! I screamed in my head as I swung my sword in desperation.

It was pathetic. A village brat can only reach so far in a few years.

But it distracted them.

And Lesley saved me.

That’s how she became my Master.

But it was the worst.

Swinging the sword every day. Every single day.

Not because I hated it.

Because I had no talent.

Think about it. There’s a limit to where an ordinary person can reach through effort alone.

Even if you restart from infancy and train endlessly, you’re not becoming Shohei Ohtani.

Maybe I reached pro-level in Japan. I don’t really know.

But in this world, that’s nowhere near enough. This is DWS.

Lesley still taught me patiently. Every day.

I pushed until I coughed blood. But I never reached her level. I truly felt sorry.

The only reason I kept going despite my hopeless lack of talent was because I knew the future of DWS.

The Majin are coming.

And worst of all, the protagonist wasn’t anywhere.

What kind of mid-game broken state is this?

If I don’t do it, who will? That kind of start.

The future is despair whether I act or not. So I have to act.

I planned to ensure Lesley’s safety, then fight alone.

But she was kind to the core. Since that day, she kept teaching me.

And today.

I understand it no matter what. I have no talent. A hundred years of effort wouldn’t be enough.

I’ve cleared the game a thousand times. I don’t even reach the feet of the Majin.

But I wanted to avoid the worst bad ending. That’s all I thought about.

Of course I wanted to win with strength. But that’s impossible. Knowing your limits is vital.

Every night I thought about it, and finally a plan came to me.

After countless clears, I found the one Salvation route the protagonist could never achieve.

Something only an ordinary guy like me could do.

It’s a one-shot gamble. No guarantee of success. But I have a plan. That’s enough. There’s even the faintest glimmer of light.

“Master Lesley, please teach me more.”

The only regret is that even if it works, I won’t see what happens to you afterward. But that’s trivial.

“…Honestly. I’ll tell on you to Eleanor. If you lose even a little weight, she makes a demon face and forces food into you.”

“Please don’t. Sophia already tried to confine me because I get injured too often.”

“Fine. Then lower your stance more. Your center of gravity is too high.”

I’m truly grateful.

You must think having a useless disciple like me is the worst. I owe you everything. I’m sorry.

I’ll burn your voice into my memory.

Because tonight is the last night.