Transmigrated Into My Sister's Novel

Chapter 1: A script 

Holding a spear of pure white flame in his hand, Hiro looked down at his opponent, who was missing a leg and an eye, blood gushing out of the hole in his stomach.

_Spurt!

Hiro finished him off by plunging the spear into his chest, turning his body to ashes bit by bit.

The person's mouth opened wide into a bloody smile. "This is not how it should have ended."

"Hahaha..." He started to laugh hysterically. The darkness inside him was being burned out by the flames until the fire consumed his entire body.

Hiro gasped for breath; his lips trembled as in great pain, but there was a joyful glint in his eyes, evident by a relaxed expression of relief on his face.

"I had finally killed him."

It had been a three-day, four-night battle that had consumed every bit of energy he had.

He could have killed him sooner, but it had been a hard fight, especially since he had to protect everybody else.

It was a great achievement that nobody died but the villains and he was rightfully proud of himself.

Hiro patted his head in his mind, quite pleased with his triumph.

However, although he wanted to collapse and fall to the ground, he didn't allow himself to do so.

Hiro finally felt a sense of relief wash over him as the haze, the mental anguish binding him loosened.

"I can finally go back home," He stood on his feet, quite aware he needed to get out of the place before he lost consciousness.

Hiro could finally go back to Midden, to his home.

He forced his already tattered and bruised body to move.

However, keen that something out of his control was about to happen, he looked down at his chest as he sensed killing intent directed at him, but there was nothing he could do.

_Pierce!

There was no longer any form of energy in his veins. He had consumed it all.

_Drip! Drip! Drip!

"Cough!" A weak cough escaped his lips as a bloodstream ran alongside the spear of rock that had penetrated his body and dripped slowly to the ground.

Hiro didn't feel pain as he unapologetically yanked the spear out of his body, leaving a hole in his chest. 

He looked back at the destroyed, desolate sight.

The buildings were broken, the streets were cracked and filled with rubble, and the air was heavy with the smell of smoke and blood, with no sign of its previous prosperity.

Everywhere his eyes landed, there was destruction and desolation, a reminder of the chaos that tore through the city.

Hundreds and thousands of superheroes and civilians, cameras looking at him in silence as his blood fell from his body like a waterfall.

He blinked tirelessly and wasn't sure how he should feel as a man wearing a skin-tight suit retreated silently, trying to reduce his sense of existence.

The crowd looked at Hiro with nothing but horror and terror.

"They're ugly." He muttered and laughed self despairingly. He was dying soon.

Some people felt relief at his already-finished state and started cursing all kinds of profanities at him. But his focus wasn't on them.

Raising his head, he saw someone who smiled at him with familiarity; a smile he saw thousands of times.

Right outside the group of irrelevant people— An old man with smoky gray hair and a wrinkled face was smiling at him.

He mouthed something, and despite the distance, Hiro could see what he was mouthing with ease:

"Your mission is finished. It's time to die."

Hiro finally collapsed, gasping as he fell onto his knees and looked at his no longer-existent chest.

'Am I going to die like this?'

Even as his face was getting closer to the ground, his line of sight never left the old man, thinking, 'Why? Why? I did everything you told me to.'

Though his mental anguish ended, he couldn't speak in the man's presence, 'I saved humanity from destruction. I killed the demon king. So why?'

To the entire world, he was the strongest, but in front of that man, he was the weakest hero to be born.

'All I ever wanted was to go back to Midden. Why, Grandpa?' 

Hiro wanted to scream, to shout out the injustice he was feeling.

He wanted to cry at the people who called him a villain and pure evil. 

All he had ever done was save them from destruction, yet they all looked at him like he was a demon from hell.

"It wasn't fair, I only wanted to go back home."

A single tear fell from his brilliant golden eye.

The light in them faded in an instant as his flame engulfed his body, reflecting the brightest ray of the sunset.

His body was scattered in the air, never to be seen again.

Cheers of relief and happiness echoed as the crowd turned into a celebratory mood at the death of a great villain, not realizing their sun would never rise again.

---

Holding the painstakingly crafted script in his hands with the title "The Reincarnated Demon King."

Ryan, a busy man, deliberated over his words as he had spent the past five hours during his rare days of rest reading his sister's future novel as she described it.

Being the head assistant to a company's CEO. He had little time for anything but work, and his only hobby was his job.

Fantasy, action, reincarnation, rebirth, and other stuff were concepts he heard from his obsessed younger sister.

Ryan looked at her big, lovely, round 'do not criticize me' eyes and said, "Couldn't you have just written something normal?"

Lisa shook her head and said with conviction, "No, people like this kind of genre nowadays. Nobody is into heroes anymore."

Ryan massaged his temple and nodded, "Fine."

Taking a sip of coffee, he continued, "Your first mistake is reasoning."

"You gave the protagonist no reason whatsoever for what he did. Was it for pleasure? A trauma? Or did he have something against humans in his past life?"

Ryan had by now considered himself a professional to this kind of topic. Since his sister hit her teenage years, he mostly heard her talking about novels.

And so he picked up a lot of information and could confidently argue with an avid reader.

He continued, "Secondly, there is no character stability at all. You gave your character a background and a personality, but you never acted on it."

Looking down at the script for a minute, he said, "For example, the guy who's supposed to be the protagonist's 'rival' is an arrogant prick born into a family of superheroes."

"He was high and mighty, with his pride up to the skies. Yet, just by seeing the protagonist, as if on instinct, he became his underling."

"Let's also look at the so-called heroine, who you have presented with the goodness of humanity."

"She was kind, helped the poor, protected the weak, and was the most charming of all female characters. Yet she fell in love with the protagonist the moment she saw him kill somebody."

"And became a crazed homicidal maniac. How did that register as logical in your brain?"

Ryan went on and on, criticizing every character and every event she made, one by one, giving examples of what was wrong.

Lisa was exhausted after three hours of straight criticism and was dozing off.

Finally, her brother stopped, or so she thought.

"Lastly, don't you feel ashamed of yourself? I mean, how could you make someone so miserable? Don't you have a conscience?"

Ryan had almost spat his coffee reading this character's back story and future.

'Hiro' was the only character that was consistent from beginning to end.

Lisa looked away from her brother, not wanting to meet his gaze. She knew she had made big mistakes in her story and was embarrassed.

She nodded her head and said, "I understand. I will rewrite this draft, and make it more enjoyable, with a logical progression of events."

Ryan nodded in approval with a smile and said, "That's a start."

"Don't forget to make sure the story has a purpose and isn't just a collection of random events. Make sure it has a message or a moral to impart."

Lisa smiled and nodded. "I will. Thank you for the advice, brother."

Ryan smiled at her kindly, patted her on the shoulder, and said, "Good luck."

He walked toward his bedroom, satisfied, not realizing she hadn't repented much.