Transmigrated into Eroge as the Simp, but I Refuse This Fate-Chapter 64: Exploit
Damien exhaled sharply as he stepped into his room, stripping off his formal attire with little care. The moment the fabric left his skin, he scowled.
Disgusting.
The weight—the sheer mass of this bloated, useless body—was unbearable. He could feel it in every movement, in every breath, in the way his joints protested from years of neglect.
150 kilograms.
He had known the number. He had seen it in the mirror. But actually feeling it? Being trapped inside it? It was something else entirely.
This chapter is updat𝙚d by freeweɓnovel.cøm.
He felt slow, suffocated under layers of fat that didn't belong to him. His stomach pressed uncomfortably against the waistband of his pants. His arms, once meant to be weapons, felt like they were covered in dead weight. His breath was heavier than it should have been, and no matter how much he adjusted his posture, he couldn't shake the awareness of it.
Damien Elford—the original one—had been a fucking disgrace.
A morbidly obese, drug-riddled coward who had done nothing to fix himself.
And now Damien was the one paying for it.
His jaw clenched as he yanked on his training clothes—dark compression wear designed to keep his bloated form from jiggling with every damn step. Even that wasn't enough to stop the sheer wrongness of it all.
This body is useless.
Pathetic.
It needs to change. Immediately.
But that was exactly why he was here.
Why he had pushed for such extreme measures.
Because he wasn't going to waste this second chance.
No more drugs. No more weakness. No more excuses.
His scowl deepened as he pulled the fabric tighter around his arms. It stretched over the bulk, barely fitting, and the discomfort of it only fueled the irritation burning inside him.
Tch.
He hated this.
But not for long.
Soon, all of this—the weight, the sluggishness, the sheer disgusting existence of it—would be nothing but a memory.
Turning on his heel, Damien stormed out of his room, heading straight for the training hall.
Damien pushed open the doors to the training hall, the reinforced metal shifting smoothly on its hinges. The moment he stepped inside, the sheer emptiness of the space pressed down on him. No distractions. No comfort. Just cold efficiency.
He made his way toward the workstation where the golden-red vial rested, waiting for him. The liquid inside swirled slightly, catching the light, deceptively beautiful despite the hell it was about to unleash on his body.
His fingers curled around the glass. Cold. Smooth.
He let out a slow breath.
"Sigh… here it fucking goes."
With a tilt of his head, he brought the vial to his lips and downed the entire thing in one gulp.
The taste was bitter, sharp, burning down his throat like liquid fire. The moment it hit his stomach, a shockwave of sensation ripped through him—like something had coiled inside his muscles, clawing through every fiber, every cell, tearing him apart from the inside.
And then—
Pain.
A deep, unbearable agony blossomed through his limbs, a raw, burning sensation that made his nerves feel like they were screaming. His legs buckled for half a second, his knees threatening to give out.
"Fuck—!"
He gritted his teeth, gripping the edge of the nearby table as the full effect of the brew detonated inside him. It felt like something was crawling under his skin, like his muscles were actively being chewed apart, every movement sending fresh waves of searing agony through him.
This wasn't fatigue.
This wasn't exhaustion.
This was destruction.
His body was breaking itself down, forcibly accelerating the damage, skipping straight past soreness and straight into injury. Every step, every twitch of his fingers felt like raw meat being scraped against gravel.
His breathing was ragged, but he forced himself to straighten.
"This is fine."
His hands clenched into fists, nails biting into his palms as he pushed through the pain.
"I can handle this."
This wasn't new to him.
The cancer treatments. The endless days of being hooked to machines, feeling like his body was rotting from the inside out. The days he had spent unable to move, trapped inside a body that wasn't his.
Compared to that?
This was nothing.
Pain is temporary. But results?
He exhaled sharply.
Results last.
Ignoring the searing agony in his muscles, he stepped toward the treadmill.
The machine whirred to life as he set it to the lowest possible speed—a slow, almost insulting walking pace.
But even that—even fucking walking—was an ordeal.
The moment his foot hit the belt, a fresh spike of pain shot up his leg, a deep burning sensation where his muscles were actively destroying themselves. His joints groaned, his breath came in heavy bursts.
"Tch." He scowled. "I really let this body go to shit, huh?"
Step.
Pain.
Step.
More pain.
His body begged him to stop, to sit down, to wait for the healing potion to fix the damage first.
But that wasn't the plan.
The potion would only work if his body was at its absolute limit—if the muscles were screaming for repair.
So he kept walking.
"One step at a time."
Sweat beaded at his forehead. His heart pounded in his chest. His breaths came sharp, heavy, forced through clenched teeth.
But his smirk never faded.
"Just wait."
"You'll see."
"This body will become something else entirely."
The moment Damien took his first steps, the pain deepened, sinking into his bones like burning iron. Every movement sent jagged waves of agony through his muscles, like his flesh was actively being torn apart. His body screamed at him, protesting the sheer unnatural destruction happening inside him.
And then—
[Warning: Host is experiencing severe muscular degradation.]
[Recommending immediate cessation of physical activity.]
The system's voice rang in his mind, neutral as ever, detached—like some omnipotent force observing from a distance.
Damien barely acknowledged it.
Step.
Agony.
Step.
More agony.
His vision blurred slightly, sweat forming at his brow as his lungs heaved, struggling to keep up with the sheer stress being placed on his already failing body. His heart pounded like a war drum, each beat hammering inside his ribs like it was trying to escape.
And then—
[WARNING: System intervention is required to prevent host from critical failure.]
[Attempting to trigger passive trait: Lazy Bitch.]
A new sensation slammed into him—something foreign, something he hadn't felt before.
It wasn't just exhaustion. It was resistance.
An overwhelming, suffocating urge to stop. To sit down. To quit.
His limbs suddenly felt heavier, his breath slower, his mind sluggish—like a weighted fog was pressing against his will, urging him to give up.
It was original Damien's trait.
[Lazy Bitch] has activated.
A disgusting, parasitic trait—one that had been burned into this body's very core. The original Damien had never trained, had never pushed himself through discomfort, had given up at the slightest hint of pain.
And now, that weakness was clawing at him.
Sit down.
This hurts too much.
What's the point? You're going to fail anyway.
The system, assuming he was the same, tried to enforce the trait.
Damien gritted his teeth.
"No."
His own will surged forward, violently rejecting the very notion.
And in that instant—
[Trait: Does Not Bend has activated.]
[ERROR: Conflict detected.]
[Attempting to override…]
[Override FAILED.]
The entire system shuddered inside him, like an unseen force had just collided with a wall it couldn't move.
The trait [Lazy Bitch] was supposed to act as a failsafe, a forced response that would shut down all efforts of perseverance.
But his own trait refused to allow it.
[ERROR: System unable to enforce behavioral conditioning.]
[ERROR: System unable to regulate host's pain tolerance.]
[ERROR: Host's willpower exceeds system intervention thresholds.]
A slow, wicked grin curled Damien's lips, despite the agony wracking his entire body.
"That's right."
"You don't control me."
The system had expected him to fail. To fold like the previous Damien had.
But this wasn't him.
He wasn't that Damien.
Step.
Step.
The pain was still there, deep and unrelenting, but it no longer mattered.
He had endured worse.
"Keep trying, system."
"You're not going to stop me."
He walked through the pain, every step tearing his body apart—but he never faltered.
