An Extra’s Rise in an Eroge

Hello, I'm Arthur, an avid gamer. Whenever I have free time, I immerse myself in video games. Lately, I stumbled upon a game that's become wildly popular among teens—not for its plotline or gameplay mechanics but because of its... graphic content. The game was notorious, not for its storyline or mechanics, but for its other content. Yeah, that kind. It is the kind of "plot" that makes people overlook everything else. It wasn't the fantasy world or the looming threat of war that grabbed everyone's attention. It was the jaw-droppingly attractive female characters, their barely-there clothes, and the explicit scenes that earned it a reputation as a must-play for other reasons. You know, the kind that every horny teenager would dive into without a second thought. It's an eroge, a game where the female characters are unbelievably attractive, their clothing (or lack thereof) designed to keep players glued to the screen. Let's just say, the "plot" of this game was more enticing than any adult video could dream to be.

But here's the thing: despite the game's obvious focus on explicit content, its core storyline wasn't half bad. It was a decent RPG set in a fantasy world. Still, no one seemed to care about that. The game had been out for two years, and no one had completed it. My friends, knowing I love a challenge, dared me to be the first. So, despite not being into eroge games, I decided to give it a shot.

That's how I ended up playing "Twilight of Sin". I was not like others, who just played the game for the sex scenes. Well, not entirely. Sure, the visuals were nice, but I was more interested in the challenge. And, surprisingly, it wasn't just about the sex scenes. Once you looked past the obvious distractions, the game was set in Eldora, a world filled with magic, swords, and mythical creatures. Elves, beastmen, dwarves, and orcs—all living together in a world constantly under threat. The problem? Demons. 

Eldora was divided into three realms: Hell, Heaven, and the Human Realm. The demons, tired of the hell that was their home, waged war on the Human Realm, aiming to corrupt its lands and steal its resources. The Demon King himself tore open a rift between Hell and the Human Realm, creating a spatial tear that allowed demons to move freely between the realms. In response, the strongest warriors of Eldora fought back, trying to prevent further corruption, but they could never fully push the demons out. The war had reached a stalemate.

Decades later, the humans had grown complacent. They'd built Arcane Academy, a place to train the next generation of warriors to fight against the demons. Students from all across Eldora—elves, dwarves, beastmen—studied and trained there. But the rift between realms was widening. Stronger demons were slipping through, and more and more land was falling into their control. A quarter of Eldora was already lost, tainted by demonic corruption. Many nations succumbed to the attacks of demons as now even stronger demons were able to slip in as the spatial rift had widened and stabilized. 

That's where the gods stepped in. They could not just sit back and watch the demons get stronger. Gods' powers came from the faith of their believers. If the attacks of the demons continued, there would be no one left for them to provide faith energy. They highly doubted that the demon king would stop its conquest after taking over the human realm. They may be the next targets of demons.

They cannot let the war reach the heaven realm. So the gods came up with the idea of granting their small portion of divine power to children who had great potential to grow. They granted divine blessings to certain children—"blessed ones"—who could wield divine power beyond the inherent power of Eldora (mana or aura). These chosen few were destined to save the world. They were the main characters of the game. 

Alex Stale, the hero of "Twilight of Sin," was one of them. He wasn't just blessed by one god—he had multiple blessings, making him the strongest of the chosen. The game puts players in the shoes of Alex, the chosen hero of Eldora. He attends the academy, learning how to fight, forming "bonds", and building a team of blessed ones to fight back the demons and close the space rift. Sounds straightforward, right?

Wrong.

In reality, no one had ever completed the game.

Here's the twist: it's an eroge. No matter what choices you make as Alex, the game always drags you into some steamy encounter with a female character. You try to train? Nope, here comes an enticing sorceress who "needs" your help. You want to go on a mission? Sorry, you've got a romantic scene with the warrior princess. No matter how hard I tried, Alex was constantly surrounded by stunningly beautiful women, each one derailing my progress toward actually saving the world.

Each time I made a different choice, hoping to avoid the inevitable. But each time, I failed. The game would distract me with another erotic scene, Alex wouldn't get stronger, and the world would end in ruin. Game Over.

I realized the awful truth: this game wasn't designed to be completed. It was made to satisfy horny gamers, not for players like me who wanted to beat the game for real.

In a fit of frustration, I logged into the game's community forum and let loose. I spewed out a rant, cursing the developers for creating such a ridiculous game. I wasn't expecting any reply. I just needed to vent.

But then something unexpected happened.

I got a reply.

It was from the game's developer. The message read: "Do you really want to complete the game? Do you truly wish to save Eldora?"

Caught up in the heat of the moment, I responded without thinking: "Of course, I want to save Eldora! I want to see the game through to the end."

Seconds later, another reply came in: "Okay, I will give you a chance to save Eldora. Let's see if you can do it."

And that was the last message I received. No follow-up, no explanation. I scrolled through the internet for a bit longer, but my mind was still reeling from the bizarre interaction. I figured I'd sleep it off.

That night, I went to bed—angry, and frustrated, but ready to try again the next day.

Except I never woke up.

At least, not in the same world.