The Host, who long forgot his name, felt his consciousness drift. He felt it being pulled in a direction and let his soul go with it. He was too tired even to resist. There was no point in fighting, anyway.

In this moment of peace, he could only let himself go. Then he contemplated on his existence…

As a host, the first few dozen worlds that he went to were quite the adventure. Though he had slight troubles at first, after picking up skills from each planet, his time only got more comfortable as he went through.

The Host became people of different races, ethnicities, genders, and sexes. He lived many different lives, from medical doctors and wealthy business owners to Royalty and Nobles, Demon Kings and slaves, actors and models, to even FBI agents and hackers. He went to different periods and lived in many parts of each world. He had so many identities, and he realized that he was fluid. His soul was fluid and forever changing. It made it easier for him to adjust thinking of it like that.

Right after he adjusted, suddenly, his time with the system became traumatic. System 225 became malicious, giving him commands that would ultimately lead him to tragic endings. In each world after the 60th world, he became a villain. By the time he got to the 100th world, he had pleaded to be able to go into the Reincarnation Sea, but System 225 didn't respond to his cries for help.

Betrayed, murdered, raped, suicide, contracting horrible illnesses, kidnapped and sold, he died awful deaths after having his life ruined by every world's protagonists. Forced to go from world to world without rest, he couldn't break away from System 225 because his soul was connected to them.

He knew there was nothing he could do.

No matter how much he begged, no one could hear his pleas for help.

Going through thousands of worlds and living the lives of thousands of villains, the Host slowly shut down, and ultimately closed his heart. He watched himself turn into a monster. He murdered, he raped, he ruined the lives of many people before he got a taste of his own medicine.

The Host couldn't go against System 225. If he did, a sharp pain would course through his soul, and it would even take over his body to complete the task. He could only helplessly comply. There were no threats to get rid of his soul. Watching him spiral into despair as he watched his body move on its own seemed to give it pleasure.

He agreed to help souls, not to become a villain and ruin people's lives. He wanted to help, but that came to an end. He just wanted to help people. Why was that so wrong? What did he do to deserve this? Why was it that no matter what he did, even if he did all he could to help people, the only thing he got was suffering? He felt hopeless, worthless, and depressed.

Living through all the tragic endings took a toll on the Host. It was so much worse than his first life, and he couldn't even complain about it anymore.

He didn't want to believe him. Someone, please tell him he was wrong…

I'm sorry…

He was right, and I deserve everything that I am going through.

The Host could hear that man telling him repeatedly how it was all his fault and how he was useless and worthless. How he didn't deserve to be happy, and how no one else would love him. He would never be good enough. He just knew that. That man knew that too.

Why am I still so weak?

Even if he learned the skills the villain obtained, even if the Host, as the villain, was able to stand on par with the protagonist, it was useless. He was never able to beat them because of the plot armor the worlds gave them.

The more he continued, the worse his endings would be. The more he begged and resisted, the worse he'd end up in the next life. He even prayed for his soul to disappear, but that never happened. The pain followed him from one world to the next. The pain lingered on his broken soul. As the pain was too much to bear, he slowly became more and more numb to the pain. He became numb to feelings of happiness and love.

What was happiness? What was love? All he felt was anger, resentment, and depression. Old feelings came rushing back and controlled every part of his mind. The despair he knew so well before magnified, becoming something far worse than he could ever imagine.

It left him completely broken.

.....

But he didn't want to be broken.

He wanted to feel more than just negative emotions. Or more like, he wanted to feel happiness again. He wanted to be loved, to be pampered, cared for, and cherished. He yearned for it.

The Host tried to cling on to the small slice of hope that he would get out of this vicious cycle. He didn't want to lose his humanity.

I don't want to be a monster.

He suffered through hundreds of thousands of lives. Lived and sustained through thousands of years. His soul, exhausted, he wished more than anything to be able to disappear. He wanted to be free once more, just like when he died in his first life.

I shouldn't have agreed to this.

Someone, please help me.

Please, I am broken.

I can't continue.

Please save me.

I wished someone would save me…

He didn't know how long he would be able to cling on to that last thin string of hope. He could feel himself slipping, and he could feel the strings slowly tearing. The last shred of hope was wearing thin…

That was when he finally heard a voice.