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Transmigrated as the Mad Dog of the Fantasy Game

Transmigrated as the Mad Dog of the Fantasy Game

by pawntoglory

ActionAdventureAnti-Hero LeadFantasyGameLit

I beat the hardest game in history. Willow Fantasy. A brutal, unforgiving nightmare that 4.9 billion players abandoned because the final boss was mathematically unbeatable. I beat it by exploiting frame-perfect real-world physics and biomechanics. My reward? Waking up in the body of Leon Balk. The exiled, psychopathic madman of a royal family. Left to rot on the front lines of a war. Problem number one: Leon is still in here. Screaming. Laughing. Urging me to butcher everyone. Problem number two: His madness is leaking into my brain. When the blood sprays, I do not feel disgust. I feel euphoria. The battle refreshes me.  When my fortress is overrun and I am surrounded by thousands, I do not run. I activate Leon's unique skill: [Carnage]. I butcher the enemy army. Then I butcher my own allies for the System points. Now I am a traitor with a bounty on my head. The System gave me a Main Quest: Conquer the five human kingdoms and invade the 6th Demon Continent before the Extinction Event.  To do that, I need an army. But normal armies are expensive, and I am broke. So, I use my walkthrough knowledge of Willow Fantasy to hunt down the game's most broken, history-altering NPCs and force them into my own mercenary guild. I just need to find them first.  Like Rick. A drunk who spins a swallow sword like a toy and possesses the highest attack speed on the continent. He does not know he is working for a demon mimic, and he does not know his sick sister is already dead, her soul trapped in her body. I know. I will use that leverage when the time is right. Or Lena. A beastkin thief who accidentally pickpocketed me in a market and immediately regretted her life choices after being forced to join our crew. We do not have a base. We do not have money. We live in a wooden mansion we stole from a bandit clan we massacred.  This world has mages who throw fireballs and swordsmen who shatter mountains with glowing Qi auras. I do not use magic. I use a standard longsword, a perfect Pflug stance, and the exact angle of deflection to make their own kinetic energy break their necks. I am not a hero. I am a cold, calculating gamer wearing the skin of a psychopath, leading a guild of chaotic misfits. And if the world gets in the way of my quest, we will chop it down.

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