Trajectory of Steel.
A trash-tier mecha game infamous for its atrocious difficulty.
After grinding away thousands of hours and finally cracking open the final boss’s skull, I opened my eyes in an unfamiliar place.
A silver-haired, twin-tailed pilot.
A genius, but also a personality-disaster mesugaki NPC notorious for making players’ blood pressure skyrocket.
I had become Lolita von Rosenberg?!
[The forward defensive line has collapsed! The Imperial Army is pouring in!]
The screams of allies came from beyond the communication network.
I instinctively charged out, grabbed the control stick, and slaughtered the enemies. For a rotten old veteran like me, small fry like this were nothing.
I decided to throw them a solemn warning. But instead, a nasal voice burst out of my mouth without passing through my brain.
“You can’t even dodge attacks this slooow~? You old men are all losers~ total losers~♡”
…No, fuck! What the hell is wrong with my mouth?!