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

Chapter 228: Out

The air cracked.

One moment, Damien stood in silence—his wounds gone, his body whole, the last words of a legend fading in the space behind his skull.

The next—

Reality buckled.

And the world snapped back.

WHUMP.

His feet struck solid stone.

Cool wind brushed his face.

The canyon.

The same clearing. The same blood-streaked ground where the G-rank beast had fallen.

Only now, the corpse was gone. The marks erased. As if the world had folded it all away the moment he vanished.

Damien blinked.

Then—

——————————

[System Synchronization Re-established]

[External Authority: Cleared]

[Mainframe Online — Full Access Restored]

——————————

The familiar golden sheen of his interface flickered back into place like a veil returning to its proper frame.

System back.

Control back.

The weight of silence replaced by utility again.

And just as he finished drawing breath—

“Master.”

The voice wasn’t alarmed.

Not rushed. Not breathless.

Just there—measured, calm, laced with something heavier than formality.

Damien turned his head.

Elysia stood just ahead, straight-backed, her mana robes gently catching the breeze.

Her eyes met his, steady as always.

But her voice—

Her voice had changed.

Still soft, still disciplined—but touched now by something else. Not emotion, exactly. Not reverence.

Something quieter.

Recognition.

Something in her gaze said she had seen it happen.

Damien stood still, breathing in the canyon’s thinner air. The wind pressed lightly against his skin, a touch of the world trying to confirm he was really back.

He glanced once more at Elysia, the set of her shoulders, the calm steel in her eyes. No signs of panic. No outburst of concern.

Just that unwavering focus.

But underneath it…

Something.

Something unspoken had passed in his absence.

Not damage. Not a break.

But a shift.

A realignment.

Like she’d seen something through the veil. Or done something. Something that would never be shared unless pried from her directly.

Damien didn’t pry.

He never did when it wasn’t necessary.

He had more pressing matters.

He rolled his shoulders once. Felt the way his body held tension now—denser, cleaner, more ready.

He needed to know what had changed. Exactly what had carried over. What had stuck. If it was the same trait, the same power he remembered from the forum footage—or something far worse. Far better.

Later, he’d dive into the status screen. Peel it open with precision.

But for now—

He looked at her again.

“Good work for waiting,” he said simply.

Elysia’s eyes didn’t drop.

Her gaze held him.

And then, after a beat—

“Master. Something…”

He raised a brow, dry. “Something about me has changed—is that what you were going to say?”

“…Yes.”

His lips curved. Not quite a smile. A recognition of truth spoken aloud.

“That’s right.”

He didn’t need her to elaborate.

He already knew.

It wasn’t just the power.

It was the experience.

The monster he’d killed—torn down with his bare hands, blood caking his knuckles. And after that, the soldier. The man. The one he fought tooth and nail not like a beast, but like a rival.

He had looked human.

He had moved human.

And Damien had crushed him. Stepped into the center of death and broke it open with will alone.

That changed something.

Whether it was real didn’t matter.

What mattered was he had done it.

Not watched. Not studied.

Done.

That left a mark on the soul, no matter how cleanly the body healed.

Damien’s gaze lingered on Elysia for a breath longer. He saw it—faint, but present.

The shift in her eyes.

Not fear.

Not doubt.

But adjustment.

As if the shape of him had changed just enough that her instincts had to redraw their outline. She’d looked at him as her master before. But now?

Now, she looked at him as something more than just bloodline and order.

Something touched by him.

The Unbreakable One.

And Damien knew—whatever remnant of that legacy had fused into him, however deep it sank into his bones, it had bled out into the world as well. Left a trace. A scent in the mana. A presence.

Elysia had felt it.

He could see it in her stance—alert, but not reactive. As if some part of her understood he wasn’t someone she needed to shield anymore.

Not fully.

Not the same way.

Still, now wasn’t the time to unpack it.

Not here. Not with what was stirring.

Damien turned slightly, his eyes narrowing toward the canyon’s edge. The wind shifted. Just slightly. Barely more than a whisper. But he caught it.

Movement.

Tension.

Not from Elysia. Not from the Hollow Fang still parked just beyond the ridge.

From the canyon itself.

He couldn’t see them.

But he knew they were there.

“…Tch.” His lips curved into a grim smile.

‘So I really can feel them now. Monsters. Mana signatures. Presence.’

It wasn’t like a radar. Not exact. Not mapped.

But felt.

It scratched at the edges of his skin like cold static. Unfocused bloodlust. Scattered aggression. A pulse of something feral inching closer with every breath.

Most likely drawn by the mana echo he’d dragged out of the Trial space.

He exhaled, then turned to Elysia.

“We’re done here.”

He didn’t raise his voice.

“Let’s return.”

Elysia blinked once, then nodded—crisp, immediate.

She didn’t ask questions.

She didn’t look back.

And neither did he.

Because whatever legacy he’d claimed in that space—whatever he had passed down—it had only just started to settle.

And the monsters?

Let them come another time. When he was ready.

When he could give them his full attention.

Now?

He walked. Quiet. Intentional.

Leaving the canyon behind.

******

The path back wasn’t quiet.

Not in the way it had been when they first entered.

Then, it had been still—wary silence, interrupted only by the occasional beast brave enough to breach Elysia’s field of influence.

Now?

Now the canyon stirred.

Damien noticed it first. The shift. The air thickening like breath on glass, scent marked with heat and unsettled mana. Creatures weren’t hiding anymore.

They were tracking.

Drawn not by blood or sound, but by something deeper.

The pulse.

Whatever he’d awakened inside that sealed space—it had left a signature. A resonance. Not just in him, but in the canyon itself. The monsters had felt it.

And they wanted to challenge it.

But they never got the chance.

Elysia moved like gravity didn’t apply.

The first creature—a thick-bodied crawler with blade-legs and a dozen twitching eyes—dropped in from the ridge above. She didn’t pause. Didn’t draw.

Just raised her hand—

WHMP.

Compressed force struck the thing mid-air, folding its carapace inward like paper before it even hit the dirt.

The second, third, and fourth didn’t even register fully before they were cleaved.

Damien walked forward, calm. Focused.

And behind him, Elysia handled everything else.

No panic. No wasted motion.

Only one creature made it close enough for Damien to see the whites of its eyes. A lean, hound-like thing—E-rank at best—lunged from the shadows with a snarl that sounded too human.

Elysia’s blade punched through its throat before Damien even shifted his weight.

And then they were past it.

Further. Faster.

The canyon narrowed. Then widened again. And finally—split.

The mouth of the gorge opened up like a memory, and the Hollow Fang transport waited where they left it—silent, patient, untouched.

Only then, with the world quieting behind them, did Elysia speak.

“…There were more,” she said, her tone neutral, but her words deliberate. “Monsters.”

Damien nodded once, stepping into the shade near the vehicle. “They felt it too.”

Elysia turned her gaze on him then—just briefly. Long enough for her mind to catch on the shift again.

‘He’s… different,’ she thought.

Not in stance.

Not in voice.

In stillness.

He didn’t move like someone bracing for more. He didn’t carry tension in his shoulders like before. His focus wasn’t narrow anymore—it was layered. Wide. Intentional.

It unsettled her in a way she couldn’t explain.

Because it wasn’t just that he’d changed.

It was that the nature of him had changed.

More composed. More… rooted.

His presence had always been sharp, but now it was weighty—anchored, like something too old to move quickly, yet too vast to ignore.

She realized she was watching him again—longer than she should have.

So she spoke.

“To inform,” she said, voice clipped again. “Lord Dominic attempted to contact you.”

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