Transmigrated into Eroge as the Simp, but I Refuse This Fate

Hah…

It had started.

Just as he intended.

Just as he remembered from that grainy, half-corrupted gameplay footage—the way the system had flickered and stuttered as the trial began syncing with the player’s body. The way their movements began to carry just a little too much weight, like gravity itself had changed its mind about them.

That was the moment the inheritance began to fit.

To test. To teach. To burn its shape into you until there was no distinction between the motion and the meaning.

And in that flicker—just one frame—an identifier had popped up.

Most players missed it.

But Damien hadn’t.

It had read:

[Source: Legacy-Class—The Unbreakable One]

No title.

No name.

No guild. No faction. No divine lineage.

Just that.

Unbreakable.

In the lore, the figure barely existed.

A ghost.

A contradiction.

Some historians claimed he was the last mortal to walk unshielded through the Ninefold Heavens.

Others swore he once struck down a primordial beast with only his fists and lived three days after its venom liquefied his lungs.

But the consistent through-line—across every fragment, every item description, every half-glitched monument that mentioned him—was this:

He never fell.

He had no spells. No mana constructs. No weapons.

He took every strike.

Every spell.

Every divine punishment.

And stood back up.

A man who made gods flinch not with power, but with the refusal to die.

A will that couldn’t be severed.

A body that moved like inevitability.

The Unbreakable One.

That was the lore.

That was the explanation players could find—buried in scattered relics, fragmented codex pages, and NPC mutterings so out of place they bordered on bugs.

A ghost.

A man too stubborn to die.

A myth with no divine gift, no signature spell.

Just fists, blood, and motion.

And when the rare player succeeded in syncing with the trial—when they survived the imprint—they were granted a singular reward:

[Trait Acquired: Limit Breaker]

A trait that never appeared in the normal pool. Not in gacha draws. Not in reroll charts. Not even in post-game build guides.

It was an anomaly.

An error the system never deleted.

But one thing was clear.

It wasn’t just rare.

It was built.

Crafted from a source the system didn’t fully control.

A trait derived from a buried Authority—not divinely sanctioned, not system-engineered, but legacy-coded by something older.

Something refusing to be overwritten.

[Limit Breaker] — When the body is pushed beyond its natural limit, and when death becomes the logical outcome, this trait activates. Strength. Reflex. Endurance. Will. All rise… not by design, but by refusal.

Damien remembered the line from the fan wiki. One of the last functioning servers before the devs patched the vault out entirely:

“This isn’t a blessing. It’s a contradiction. The trait only works if you believe it’s already too late.”

And that was why he’d come.

Not for a miracle.

But for a contradiction strong enough to warp the outcome.

Still—

There was something else.

Something he hadn’t told even himself directly.

Not until recently.

‘My body,’ Damien thought, shifting his weight mid-shadowbox, ‘has always felt off.’

In the training sessions. In the conditioning. In the way he processed elixirs, toxins, pain.

He could absorb alchemical compounds even without a fully awakened mana core.

His muscles responded to stress not like an unawakened human, but like something waiting to convert damage into data.

And during those moments—brief, quiet, unnoticed—he had wondered.

What if?

‘What if I wasn’t just enhanced by the system?’ he thought, ducking low and twisting into a full pivot-step. ‘What if my body… wants to change?’

And more importantly—

‘What happens when it’s subjected to Authority?’

Not mana. Not spells. Not pressure.

But the sheer, crushing imprint of someone who refused to die long enough that the world remembered it.

Would it polish him?

Refine him?

Break him?

Or—

Make him?

The muscles in his arms convulsed again—this time not from stress, but from sync.

The next pulse didn’t come from outside.

It came from within.

A throb—deep in his bones. Like marrow boiling. Like something ancient had been whispered into his blood and finally listened.

—————–

[System Notification: Authority Interference Detected]

[Foreign Authority is seeping through ambient mana pressure.]

[Warning: Host is not Awakened. No internal mana circuit exists to regulate inheritance.]

[Engaging bloodline and physical trait evaluation…]

[Skill Evaluation Complete.]

——————–

A sharp jolt ran up Damien’s spine.

[Passive Skill: Physique of Nature — Incompatible with External Authority]

[Modifying…]

[Trait Evolution in Progress → New Trait Forming…]

[Physique of Nature → Physique of Resistance (Unstable)]

His body twitched—no, snapped.

Every joint in his arms popped at once. The pain lanced like live wire.

His legs locked. Trembled. Muscles seized violently, as if something had reached through his skin and grabbed them from the inside.

A guttural sound ripped from his throat.

Not a scream.

Not a word.

Just raw force refusing to spill.

The ground beneath his feet cracked, a spiderweb of fractures blooming outward.

And still, the mana poured in.

Still, the pressure increased.

Not in speed.

But in density.

The Authority wasn’t accelerating—it was compounding. Every second, another layer of weight stacked onto his lungs, his skull, his spine.

His fingers curled inwards. Knuckles white. Nails biting flesh.

——————-

[System Notice: Musculoskeletal stress threshold exceeded.]

[Liver strain: 32%. Pulmonary compression: 41%.]

——————-

He grit his teeth.

His legs buckled—and straightened again.

The muscles in his chest twitched and then twisted, not from contraction, but from restructuring.

His skin flushed pale.

His breath hitched.

But—

He did not fall.

He would not.

Not now.

Not when it had begun.

The pain wasn’t just pain anymore. It was direction. Each pulse felt like it was mapping a new body out of his old one. Reconstructing what Damien Elford meant—piece by violent piece.

He was breaking.

So he could break better.

He clenched his jaw, blood dripping freely from one ear, and smiled.

Wide.

Hungry.

‘Good…’ he thought, vision half-blurred with static and tears. ‘Do it. Reshape me.’

And then aloud—low, guttural, cracked with iron:

“Give me more.”

And the storm above answered.

Thunder crashed—closer now.

And the real Trial began.

*****

It could’ve been minutes.

It could’ve been hours.

Time didn’t pass here—it condensed.

Pain had long since stopped registering in waves. It was a field now. A climate. One that stripped his muscles, stretched his lungs, pulped his bones and reformed them beneath pressure no unawakened body should’ve survived.

And still—he stood.

Not by choice anymore.

But because he was becoming something that didn’t know how to fall.

Then—

[System Notification: Integration Complete]

It didn’t come with a flash.

No fanfare. No sound cue.

Just the system’s voice—flat, final.

[Trait Evolution Complete: Physique of Nature → Physique of Resistance (Legacy-Class)]

[Stat Barrier Surpassed: Human Limit Exceeded]

And with that, the screen blinked into place before Damien’s bloodshot eyes.

——————

[STATUS] [Synchronization: Complete]

▶ Name: Damien Elford

▶ Age: 17

▶ Level: 5

▶ SP: 800

Traits:

[Reforged One] [Does Not Bend] [Singularity] [Sociopath] [Anarchist] [Neural Predator]

Passive Skills:

[Merchant’s Intuition] [Physique of Resistance] [Predatory Focus]

——————-

[Attributes]

▶ Strength: 10 (+0.5)

▶ Agility: 10 (+0.5)

▶ Endurance: 10 (+0.5)

▶ Will: ??

▶ Intelligence: ??

▶ Charm: 9.5

▶ Luck: 9.0

Source: .com, updated by novlove.com

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