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

Capítulo 331: End ?

The figure began to unravel.

Its mana screamed—not aloud, but in resonance. A ripping, flailing, panicked collapse, as though it had never been built to survive contact with something so original. So raw.

Damien didn’t move.

He just watched.

As the figure—so fluid, so fast, so feared—began to disintegrate.

Not burned. Not shattered.

Unwritten.

Its limbs collapsed into haze, its cloak folded into static, its mask cracked inwards—then shattered silently into glasslike fragments before vanishing entirely.

By the time the air stabilized, there was nothing left but a faint residue curling at Damien’s feet like smoke from a candle just snuffed.

He blinked once.

Then slowly, his hand lowered.

Behind him, the system chimed again.

—————–

[System Notice]

Entity: [Unidentified Higher-Origin Construct] has been neutralized.

Residual trace: 4.3% Authority identified.

Analyzing trace…

Another pause. A deeper note, subtle and final.

[System Notice]

Entity possessed Higher-World Affiliation. Minor traces of Authority-encoded resonance detected.

Matching insufficient to categorize full domain scope.

Skill: [Physique of Resistance] engaged.

Influence deemed insufficient to cause corruption.

…

—————

[Mana Analysis Complete]

Higher-ranked mana successfully destabilized and assimilated into host core.

Assimilation route: Unorthodox.

Result: Net gain in internal synchronization.

Mana Compatibility has increased.

Innate Authority over personal mana flow has increased.

—————–

Damien let the words fade, quiet in the recess of his awareness.

The air was still vibrating faintly, a soft heat rolling over the stone as the last traces of the invader’s unraveling bled into nothing. Whatever that thing was—whatever remote god or force had shaped it—its presence no longer hung here. And yet, the memory of it did. Like a print still warm on a chair.

He lowered his hand all the way. Flexed it once. Fire, water, and wind responded in small, obedient flickers across his palm. He could feel it now: the resonance had deepened. Not louder. Not wider. Just cleaner. Smoother. The power didn’t resist him. It listened.

And then—

He felt the shift.

A step behind him.

Not subtle. Not stealthy.

Intentional.

He turned.

The creature—his silent guardian, his unspoken mirror—was walking forward. Slowly, but directly. Its clawed limbs retracted to their more relaxed position, steam still hissing faintly from the sockets where spikes had extended only moments ago.

It stopped beside him.

And stood there.

Not facing outward anymore.

Facing him.

Their shadows met. Overlapped. Then stilled.

“…” Damien didn’t speak at first.

And neither did the creature.

But its eyes—those wide, silver-dark, moon-glow things—watched him. Not as prey. Not as anomaly. But as… peer. Equal. Almost as if checking.

As if measuring.

Damien tilted his head slightly, narrowing his eyes. “What are you?”

The creature didn’t respond. Not in words. But its head dipped slightly—acknowledgment. Then it raised its arms, slow and deliberate, crossing one clawed hand over its chest.

A gesture. A sigil.

And Damien felt it.

Not a word. Not a name.

A pressure. A weight. A type of gravity. Resonance—not unlike the mana itself. Ancient and bound to identity.

Then—

It lowered its arms again. Took a single step back. And sat.

Cross-legged.

Spine straight.

Facing Damien.

Still silent.

Still watching.

Damien’s breath slowed, chest rising only faintly.

He mirrored it again.

Lowered himself back down into the pool, his legs folding under him, knees brushing the stone beneath. The core inside him still pulsed—not violently now, but settled. A low, living beat.

The creature remained unmoving.

And so Damien sat, the last threads of the battle’s residual tension unraveling from his shoulders.

Not in victory.

In confirmation.

The system had called that thing “Higher-Origin.”

Had identified traces of Authority.

But none of it mattered now.

What mattered was the core.

The storm.

The rhythm.

The voice in his own blood that now hummed clearly, fully.

The stillness broke.

The creature moved—but not with violence.

Its arm raised slowly, claws curling inward, and it pointed. Directly at Damien.

No menace. No posture. Just intention.

Damien’s eyes narrowed, lips parting slightly—not in alarm, but in readiness.

Then—

flash.

A beam of raw, silver-white energy burst from the creature’s forehead.

It struck Damien in the center of his brow.

No time to dodge. No flare of defense. No pull of mana.

It just hit.

And the world froze.

[System Alert]

—Higher-ranked interference detected

—Signal integrity failing

—Cognitive shield breach—WARNING: Unauthorized access

—Emergency null-cycle initiated…

The system’s voice warped—glitched mid-sentence—as if being pulled backward into static.

Damien’s vision buckled.

Not blackness.

Folding.

Reality cracked like mirror shards falling inward, light refracting in angles that didn’t exist.

His limbs went numb.

His breath stopped.

And just before his body collapsed, he caught a final image—

The creature’s expressionless face, unmoving, unblinking—yet somehow solemn.

Then—

Nothing.

——

But even in unconsciousness, there was no peace.

There were visions.

Not dreams.

Memories.

Not his.

He floated—weightless again. No body. No system. No time.

Only scenes.

The creature—taller, broader, different—but unmistakably the same essence.

It moved through a void much like the one Damien had floated in, but older. Richer. Mana there wasn’t just presence—it was identity. A sea of proto-essence, with rivers of forming concepts still raw and shapeless.

The creature walked among them—not as intruder, but as native.

It shaped mana not with spells, but with presence.

It fought not with weapons, but with resonance.

And each motion it made, each breathless pivot or calm step—felt like Damien.

Not mirrored.

Inherited.

In one vision, the creature raised both hands and opened them wide, mana coiling into a formation eerily similar to Damien’s spiral threads.

In another, it knelt at a pool of formless energy, drawing something from it.

The Blueprint.

It had one too.

But different.

Ancient.

More refined—but fractured. Weakened.

And then—another image.

A war.

Not on a battlefield. Not in physical form.

A war of frequencies, of concepts clashing. The creature—Damien’s twin in rhythm but elder in age—stood against figures cloaked in Authority. Not masked in shadow like the one before, but shining. Towering. Glorious.

And despite that—

It fought them all.

Alone.

Then—

The memory faltered.

The image cracked, bled into white.

And Damien felt himself falling.

Not physically.

Back into himself.

A final echo accompanied the descent:

“He carries the rhythm. The same design. Unwritten, but known.”

——

Then breath returned.

Slow. Heavy.

Damien’s eyes blinked open, vision sluggish at first.

And as he opened his eyes….

The first thing Damien registered was weight.

Not crushing. Not oppressive. Just… gravity. The return of mass to muscle, breath to lungs, pressure to blood. His chest rose shakily. Then again. The second inhale dragged deeper, like his body was remembering how to live again.

His eyes fluttered open.

The chamber was the same. The crystalline walls hummed faintly, runes flickering with soft residual light. The gates were still sealed, and the floor beneath him—cold, smooth stone—was familiar.

He was back.

His body ached faintly, as if everything inside had been stirred and left to settle again. But nothing felt broken. Nothing torn. Just raw. Sharpened.

Damien sat up slowly, dragging one arm beneath himself, his breath fogging faintly in the cold air. He blinked again, vision sharpening—adjusting.

He was naked.

Still completely bare from when Dominic had stripped him before the ritual. The cold brushed over his skin now, no longer dulled by the energy storm or the system’s static. He glanced down at himself, then around at the residual energy curling faintly through the air like cooling steam.

Then he heard it—footsteps. Fast. Heavy.

The inner gate hissed open.

Dominic was the first through, cloak pulled tight against the reentry wind. Kael followed a second later, his eyes already locked onto Damien with sharp, searching scrutiny.

“Damien!”