MTL - This Text Adventure Game is Absolutely Toxic - Chapter 80 I would like to call it Black Jade Intermittent Ointment

A no name Character, that never appear in novel.An ExtraEd a young man found himself in the world of the novel he’d been reading.It feels like a dream come true.But—As the memory flooded in of his new identity.-He was doomed.-He was f*cked.As He was now Caspian Arcwright[An Extra Character]Who is even despised by his own family.His father called him a failure, his mother saw him as a disgrace, and his older brothers tortured him relentlessly.There were only two reasons they let him live: the promise of an unknown bloodline that would awaken at the age of eleven, and his arranged fiancée.Then why?why?[BLOODLINE AWAKENED]BLOODLINE---- OF---- SACRIFICE

When a terminally ill young man awakens in the world of his favorite childhood game, he realizes he isn’t the protagonist, the destined hero, or even a major side character. Instead, he has become an extra—a disowned noble barely clinging to relevance in a world where strength determines everything. Worse, his fate in the game was to die an early, meaningless death.Armed with only his knowledge of the game’s storyline and a common system that tracks his stats and skills, he is determined to survive. But mere survival isn’t enough. He remembers a hidden easter egg from a long-forgotten anime collaboration: the Mangekyō Sharingan—a power limited by game mechanics but unrestricted in reality.With Kamui as his trump card, he walks the fine line between fate and freedom, seizing power from the shadows while avoiding suspicion. As the protagonist and his allies battle against demons and unravel the game’s grand destiny, he secretly builds his own strength—manipulating events, mastering forgotten arts, and even forging ties with villainous factions.Will he remain a footnote in history, or will he carve his own legend in a world that was never meant to be his?

[Longevity + Discipleship + No Female Lead + Lighthearted Humor with No Tragic Moments]When his master picks food, he spins the table there;When his master chants spells, he chats without a care;When his master takes rest, he sings a lively song;When his master lies late, he bangs the pot along;His master lives on long, but his life is rather short;His master lays him down on the hillside, as a sort;His master lifts a cup, but he won’t take a drink;His master shares a tale, but he won’t stop to think;His master holds a feast, but he leaves the table wide;His master calls his soul, but he’s nowhere to abide.Spring returns to the hills, with blooms so bright and fair,Yet master and disciple are parted, one in heaven, one elsewhere.