Isekai'd, My Posterior!
Throughout time, the term: "if there were ever", has been proven to be nothing but accurate in the description of various beings that could or would do the unexpected, unthought of, or just downright idiotic of things.
"Who the hell is that talking?"
And in this case, one would say that if there were ever a man who shouted out his displeasure regarding the mechanics of a game, it would be William.
"Okay, who are you and how do you know my name?"
Admittedly, in this scenario, it would be prudent to disclose the game of choice our dear William had chosen to berate for its questionable ending and startling revelations which has caused this spontaneous decision by the 'powers that be'.
"I'll give you ten seconds to bugger off. Else I call the cops, buddy."
For you see, William had decided on one Spring morning to direct his routine analysis and judgement upon to a platform as unforgiving as his style of hairdressing.
"You know what? Screw the police, I'll shoot you in the head myself. Now, where did I put that musket?"
The platform in question involved souls. Dark Souls, to be precise. A world more filled with agony than joy, that pertained to the extremities of humanity and the dystopia of godhood amidst a slowly coagulating wound known as Armageddon.
It was upon this formidable plane of life that our protagonist-
"I'm not a protagonist."
-decided to test 'the powers that b-
"Who and what are those powers exactly?"
-by ridiculing the tales spoken from the constructs of a certain middle-aged man from Japan-
"Mamelord Miyazaki is still a cuck for making Aldrich eat Priscilla, I don't care what your fanciful English dictates."
- Erhm, and creating a particular complex that he could possibly perform at a better rate than the atypical Chosen Undead.
"Do I detect a hint of annoyance in your otherwise flawless narration, Mr. Ambiguous Douche?"
Thus, as fate is most certainly cruel, the 'powers that be' had agreed to a decision cast quite arbitrarily (and quite nonsensically, in my opinion).
"Oi, I can hear your bracketed thoughts too, ya' know?"
And what might that decision be, you ask? Well, if you had happened to glance at the title of the story you readily jumped into, the answer would be plainly obvious.
"What title? And what story? We're standing in my bedroom right now."
A method of Divine transportation, an act of trans dimensional warping placed upon once such undeserving character coloured peach.
"It's one thing to casually speak of your disappointment as if it's in the script. It's another to be racist. Ya' sputtering spoof."
And thus, the story of the unnecessary, unwanted and certainly unexpecting William begins his travels in the very nest he dared poke a logical finger into, the world of Dark Souls.
"As crappy as your introductions for this build-up might be, you just insulted me three ways to Wednesday with that sentence alone. Prepare to have your sphincter stretched by my subpar string of invectives, you inept iota of ink."
And then… there was Dark.
There's more on the next page. Always is…