Chapter 2: 21st Day

-KWOONG!

Hurling myself at the rock with all the bravado of a moth diving into flames naturally ended with nothing but a full-body shock.

“Guh-heuk.”

I had just experienced Newton’s third law firsthand. I bounced right off and tumbled across the ground.

“Damn it, damn it!”

Consumed by frustration, I started punching the innocent rock.

Of course, all that did was hurt my own hand. Blood seeped from my scraped knuckles, but my breathing just wouldn’t settle.

“Raaagh! RAAAAAGH!”

Adrenaline still surged through me, and I dashed around like a maniac for a good while.

I was pissed. Beyond pissed. What was I supposed to do.

Zeus, Hades, Hera, Poseidon, Athena, Apollo, Artemis, Ares, Aphrodite, Hephaestus, Dionysus, and Hermes.

Their twelve faces still wouldn’t leave my mind. Probably never would.

“To think I’m stuck here for life, just rolling a damn rock.”

Maybe if I’d committed some earth-shattering sin, it would’ve made sense.

But no—just for defying them, for bruising their egos? That’s all it took.

No matter how furious I was at the injustice, the only thing I could do was scream and run around like some deranged monkey.

The memories of my past life came flooding back, and with them, the values of the modern world.

Everything felt tangled and confusing.

But when I looked back on the last twenty years, there wasn’t a single thing I was ashamed of.

I had lived a full life—as Sisyphus.

I had family. I had friends. I had fought tooth and nail to survive in a cruel, unfair world.

And all of it was ripped away.

To accept this as just another myth, as fate… it was far too cruel.

“Haaah…”

Who knows how long had passed?

I couldn’t keep running around like a lunatic forever.

It was time to calm down and take stock of the situation.

Looking around, this is what I saw:

A stone altar at the center, surrounded on the left, right, and rear by dense underbrush. The sun shone brightly, and it was all very natural—yet eerily silent. No birdsong, no rustling. The kind of silence that sets your teeth on edge.

In front of me rose a mountain. That’s the direction I’d need to push the rock—uphill.

It was layered like game stages, each level with a distinct theme. There was a lava-spewing volcano, a snowstorm-whipped peak…

It almost felt like climbing a tower.

The higher areas were hidden behind clouds, impossible to make out.

“…Wait a sec. A game?”

I searched my memory.

This scene—the steep slope, the tiered levels like stages—

“Feels like I’ve played something like this in my past life…”

If this was some kind of game world inspired by mythology, then all the inconsistencies made sense.
Maybe this rock-rolling stage was supposed to be a bonus mini-game or something.

“…Too bad it became the rest of my life.”

Of course, there’s no way I’m spending my whole life rolling a rock.

Not for a year or two—but for a hundred years, a thousand, maybe even for billions of years until the universe ends.

And I’m just supposed to keep pushing this rock all that time?

Alone?

No way.

I’ve got to find a way out of this somehow.

“Can I escape?”

Zeus called this place Tartarus. Which basically means Hell.

I think he also referred to it as Chronos’s time prison… Whatever that means.

Chronos is from the older generation of gods—the Titans.

Seems like even Hell has different versions.

For an ordinary human like me, escaping from here is basically impossible.

And as far as I know, the original myth doesn’t give Sisyphus a happy ending.

But—

If this really is a game, then that changes things.

I’ve only played one game that was based on Greek and Roman mythology. Can’t even remember the name now, but it was some dark fantasy action RPG.

You level up your character, become a hero who manipulates ‘mana,’ unlock ‘talents,’ and learn ‘skills’ or ‘magic.’

You gain experience by hunting monsters with those skills and spells. Join a guild called ‘Eranoy,’ form factions, even build your own city-state called ‘Polis.’

“Wait… that’s just like the world I lived in.”

The possibility seemed high.

Then maybe I can use that skill too.

“Dimensional Break… was it?”

I think that’s what it was called.

A powerful ability that tears space apart. I remember it vividly—it could one-shot even the biggest monsters.

“If it really can rip through space… maybe I can get out of here.”

There’s a way to find out.

A word only a reincarnated modern human could dare to speak aloud.

I pushed aside the embarrassment and said it:

“…Status window.”

Unfortunately, nothing popped up.

“System. Status. Wotna.”

I even tried Greek, but silence was the only thing that answered me, mockingly.

So the status window is only for protagonists, huh.

“Now that I think about it, all the game characters were heroes.”

Heracles, Odysseus—famous names that everyone recognizes from myth.

But me? I’m Sisyphus. One of the least known and most pitiful humans.

Born a normal person, lived a normal life.

The ultimate extra.

No epic poems, no heroic wars.

Wasn’t I even a symbol of pathetic humanity?

Yeah. In 20 years of life, I’ve never once felt anything like mana.

Only a chosen few are born able to use mana—it’s basically a divine trait.

Half-gods and those blessed with talent wield it.

The ones destined to become heroes are chosen from the start.

“Hah.”

A hollow laugh escaped me.

So in the end, pushing this rock is the only thing I can do.

There’s no escape.

“Wait… do I have to be here?”

Suddenly, the thought hit me. What was the name of this mountain again? Acro… something.

This isn’t a game—it’s real.

It’s the world I lived in.

Maybe I can just walk down and leave.

“Let’s go.”

I immediately turned and sprinted toward the forest.

Pushing through the trees, no path in sight, I broke through to a clearing.

Right in front of the same altar I came from.

“…Son of a—”

I hadn’t even moved long enough to lose my sense of direction. Maybe I ran for ten seconds.

It was as if the ends of the forest were magically connected.

I immediately dove between another pair of trees. But the result was the same.

Wasting time like that, the sun eventually set.

They called it a prison of time—I’m not even hungry, and I don’t feel sleepy.

Injuries also heal much faster.

Not just the wounds from the torture I received earlier, but even the rib I cracked when I hit that rock was already healed. I don’t really understand how it works.

But the exhaustion and pain feel the same. I still run out of breath when I run, and my legs ache.

So, only the laws of physics apply here?

In other words, escaping by dying isn’t possible either.

This was hell, maliciously designed to torment the prisoner.

Two days, ten days. Three more weeks passed.

I didn’t know if it had any meaning, but I started marking slashes on the ground for each day.

On the day I reached the twentieth mark, I had completed my exploration.

And I reached one clear conclusion:

There’s no way out of here.

I had explored every corner of the area I could walk to.

The starting point—around the altar with the stone—was a grassy field.

That area was surrounded entirely by dense trees. A forest. Trees I’d never seen before. Paleozoic?

Highland flora? Anyway, they looked unnervingly alien.

There were no edible fruits. Even though I wasn’t hungry, the fact that there was nothing to eat was a torment in itself.

I even tried chewing on grass, but all I got was a cut tongue.

Of course, the only way out of the forest layer was upwards.

The slope was about 30 meters wide, at a 25 to 30-degree incline.

On either side of the slope were high guardrails—more like natural barriers—to stop rocks from rolling down. I couldn’t climb over them, and I couldn’t see what was beyond.

When I tried walking up the slope, I could only go a few steps before my body froze in place, as if a magnet was pulling me back. Magic, maybe? It felt like the message was clear: bring the stone if you want to go up.

I was starting to get bored.

I was tired of plucking grass to tell fortunes, tired of lying on the ground and rolling around, and tired of screaming like a madman and cursing each of the twelve gods one by one.

Sigh.

One day, I sat in front of the stone and stared at it all day.

It felt like the damn thing was challenging me to a staring contest.

“What the hell do I even do?”

Even if I managed to get it to the top, it’d probably just roll right back down the other side.

Judging by how it felt when I hit it earlier, it must weigh at least a ton.

“…Should I try it?”

I don’t want to.

I really, really don’t want to.

I only ever went to a gym once in my past life. Even then, I foolishly signed up for six months, only to give up after a month. What was the heaviest dumbbell I even tried lifting back then?

Definitely nothing like this rock.

But I had no other option.

So I stood in front of the rock.

“…Hoo.”

The first time I placed my hands on it, all I could do was sigh.

If I applied even a little force the wrong way, I’d just slip and fall—this thing was perfectly round, with a smooth surface.

“There’s just no answer, huh.”

Standing in front of it was overwhelming.

It felt like it was going to devour me.

“So, I really have to push this all the way up there, huh.”

The starting point is a huge altar.

When I looked up, the mountaintop seemed impossibly far.

From what little I could see, the path was littered with all kinds of obstacles and ever-changing weather—it was like a living hell.

“Let’s do this.”

I spread my arms and placed both hands firmly on the rock.

The cold, lifeless texture already started tormenting me.

I bent down and planted strength into my legs.

“Ngghhhh.”

Only after putting in all my strength did the rock finally move with a grating, unpleasant screech that felt like it was torturing my ears.

When I pushed it up the slope, I was gasping for air, and my arm muscles screamed in pain.

Can I really push this all the way to the top?

All that remained in my mind was doubt.

“Huuuph…”

I kept straining with all my might.

[Strength has increased by 1.]