1 Prologue

I hate tragic characters.

If I want to read some depressing story about death and a life characterized by misery and loneliness, I'd read Russian literature. I stared down at my phone screen, anger boiling alongside sympathy in my chest.

That was the problem. Despite the fact that I'm pretty stone faced, I'm the kind of person that feels genuine emotions when shitty things happen to characters, even in relatively badly written web novels.

[I Reincarnated As A Saint], or IRAAS is about as plain as these novels get, but it was legible, had decent characters, and was good enough to turn my brain off and read for a few hours at a time.

So why was such a cookie cutter novel pissing me off so much?

Lilith. A small girl described to be like a vampire in all aspects of the magical world that IRAAS is set in. She's a lackey style character, the kind that would be shown at a round table, picking fights with other lackies while the big boss silently presided over them.

The kind of B-C tier villain that's mindlessly in love with the big bad, and who's getting pretty much openly manipulated because of it, but is too love dumb to think for herself.

The kind of stereotypical, seductress, flirts with the main character, gets mad when the big bad is insulted, red eyed silver haired figure that you could probably make just by grabbing tropes out of a bucket.

So again, why was her character pissing me off? The last chapter, the most recent update, was an in depth look at her background and story, to send the character off as she dies to the MC.

I reread the words again, even as it just increases the sinking feeling in my chest.

She was born to nobles, but was immediately abandoned by her parents, abused by her maids, and shunned by her peers. Because of her nature as a vampire in the IRAAS world, she was discriminated against, feared, and abused. For having fangs, super strength and higher than average magic. What fucking bullshit.

The big bad was the only motherfucker who wasn't afraid or outright hostile to her. Mainly because he was manipulating her, but that's the real kicker. She knew. She knew from the start he never felt anything from her, and never would. She just wanted someone, anyone who wasn't afraid of her to be by her side. She was alright being sent to her death, because at least she would be on his mind when she died.

I have to run a hand through my hair to stop myself from…I don't even know. As much as I'd like to throttle the big bad, her parents, her classmates, the MC, and hell, the author themself, none of those are exactly possible. Save the author, if I wanted to go on a sudden vigilante hacking montage to track him down. But I didn't really want to hurt anyone. Anyone real at least. 

This is why I hate tragic characters. They bring nothing to the world but more misery and sadness. I could just look around if I wanted that.

I'm taken out of my seething as I see a bright light around me, and turn to look, the bright lights of truck headlights staring me down.

No…No fucking way right?

The world seems to move in slow motion, as the two lights like eyes get closer and closer to me. My eyes flick up to the driver, who appears asleep in the driver's seat. I don't have time to leap to safety, nor does it look like any protagonist was about to die pushing me out of the way. Perhaps it was a little too subdued of a response, but I just stared blankly at the truck's hood as it approached my head. "Seriousl-"

I'm cut off as my body gets flung at what feels like Mach speed, but is probably a lot less than that. My body rolls on the pavement, and I feel my head slam painfully down onto the concrete. There's a cracking sound, and the pain is multiplied.

I want to groan, but something more like a gurgle leaks out. I look down at my chest, seeing a piece of metal rebar from the nearby, or I guess now intimately close, construction site.

Ow

My head goes back down, and I stare up at the bright blue cloudless sky. God, how fucking meaningless.

I lived a pointless life, and now I die a pointless death. I cough a little, blood leaking from the breath and painting my lips crimson.

I stare up at the shining sun, and the blue sky that looks like an ocean suspended above me. I feel something more than blood seeping from me, as my eyes start blurring and my thoughts get foggy.

What should my last thoughts be?

Those were, rather ironically, my last thoughts as my consciousness cut out.

It's odd, trying to describe death. I can say for sure that nothing I've ever read has done it justice, nor do I think I could. You'd have to be there to get it, in the most extreme sense of the phrase. Floating and falling, unthinking yet not unfeeling, how do you describe something beyond your understanding? It would be like explaining color to a blind person, or noise to a deaf person. Unless they knew beforehand, it's impossible.

I guess you could be really poetic and flowery about it. Red is the color of passion and love, yet also of blood and violence. Not quite sure how I would do that here though. I'm just. Gone. Like that indiscernible feeling of moving a muscle, knowing how it works and that it's an electrical signal through your body. Even if you know that, feeling that that's what it is is impossible. In the same way, until it's gone, you never can really feel what makes you alive. I never had at least.

But all that feeling, that sensation, that existence beyond existence. It all snaps out at once, and my eyes fly open.

I'm in a medieval carriage, and the words leave my lips the instant I register that. "Fuck." No, no, no no no. No.

Seriously? That's all I can say when faced with such a thing. 

Seriously?