The irony wasn't lost on Corbin, even as consciousness dissolved into a symphony of static and the startling realization that his bedroom ceiling seemed to be collapsing in slow motion. His last lucid thought had been about the injustice of a particularly annoying bug in the RPG he was playing – one that had cost him hours of progress. Apparently, the universe had an even more sadistic sense of humor and a bug of considerably larger proportions in store for him.
The darkness that followed wasn't a void, but an expectant silence, a weightlessness. Then, a light. Not a hospital light, nor the ethereal glow cheap fantasy books described. It was more like the soft, diffuse shine of an old lampshade, emanating from a figure materializing before him. An old man with hair as white as freshly fallen snow, a long, silky beard, and eyes that, despite an almost palpable kindness, held an unmistakable hint of embarrassment. He looked like a grandfather who had just accidentally broken his grandson's favorite toy.
—Ah, there you are, young soul! The elder's voice echoed, not with the thundering majesty of mythological gods, but with the warm, slightly rushed tone of someone caught off guard. —What a terrible, terrible mishap! A moment of cosmic effervescence, let's say. A battle of unimaginable proportions against... well, a formidable opponent! An entity of pure, stubborn entropy, you see? And in the heat of the fray, one of my divine projectiles, just a little bolt of justice, ended up veering off course a tad. Unfortunately, in your direction. The old man stroked his beard, his gaze flicking away from Corbin's for a moment.
Corbin, or whatever was left of him that could still process thoughts, felt a spark of his old sarcasm crackle in his consciousness. "Colossal battle? Little bolt of justice? And I'm the schmuck who pays the price in the gods' World War Three? This celestial grandpa is lying as easily as he breathes—if gods even breathe."
—I understand, Corbin's essence conveyed, the irony overflowing even without a physical voice. —A workplace accident of cosmic proportions. Happens in the best of families... divine ones, I suppose. I hope your 'Formidable Opponent' didn't scratch any of your favorite nebulas.
The God seemed to brighten at the apparent acceptance. —Exactly! A small, regrettable, bit of collateral damage in the great fight for balance! But don't you worry! He flashed a benevolent smile, like someone about to offer a piece of candy to a child who'd skinned their knee. —For a being of my magnitude," he gestured vaguely, "fixing these little eventualities is trivial. A mere puff of air!
"Trivial. I was disintegrated and it's trivial. Lovely," Corbin thought, but the mention of "fixing" sharpened something in his mind. An opportunity. That analytical side of him, trained by countless hours in game systems and fantasy worlds, began to calculate.
—A '"trivial remediation"', you say? Corbin's mental voice sounded, now with a more palpable interest. —And what would be the nature of this reparation for a ''collateral damage'' so inconvenient?
—Why, my boy! A new life, of course! exclaimed God, radiant. —A reincarnation in a brand-new world, full of mysteries and wonders! And, to compensate for this little inconvenience, I grant you three wishes! Whatever your soul desires, within certain reasonable limits, naturally. For me, he repeated, with a dismissive wave, —it's nothing!
'"Three wishes. And here comes the fine print about "reasonable limits""', Corbin registered, but the offer was too good to refuse. A new life, and the power to shape it, even if partially. The bitterness of his unfair death and the frustration with the God's blatant lie were still there, but pragmatism won out. "If I'm going to start over, it'll be on my terms."
—Three wishes, then, Corbin pondered, his mind already accelerated. —I accept. And my aspirations are quite... specific.
He didn't hesitate.
— First: I wish for the power of Necromancy. I want to command the dead, understand the secrets of life and death, and have the strength to no longer be a defenseless victim.
The God raised an eyebrow but nodded. —Interesting and dark. But granted!
— Second: I wish for a Game System integrated into my existence. With levels, experience, stats, visible and controllable abilities for myself and my undead servants. I want to be able to quantify and direct my growth.
—A system, eh? Modern! The God seemed to have fun.—Granted!
—And third, Corbin continued, —I wish for an Artificial Intelligence with potential for vast knowledge, a companion to assist me, process information, and learn about this new world alongside me. She can start basic, but her growth potential must be limitless, depending on the knowledge I provide her.
—An AI! Fascinating! The God scratched his head. —That's a bit more complex to implement without knowing where I'm sending you, but the initial potential will be yours! Granted!
With the three wishes verbalized, the grandfatherly God puffed out his chest, his eyes shining with a newfound importance. —Excellent! Now, prepare yourself, young soul!
The environment around them began to vibrate. Thunder rumbled in the distance, even in that seemingly dimensionless space. Bolts of pure celestial energy danced around the God, illuminating his robes and making his white beard shimmer. It was an impressive display of raw power. Corbin watched, skeptical, suspecting the pyrotechnics were more for effect than necessity.
Then, with a gesture that seemed to carry the weight of eons, but which Corbin suspected was just a dramatic flourish, the God touched the translucent essence that was Corbin. An icy heat enveloped him, followed by a torrent of information and sensations that were both knowledge and pure power, yet strangely incomplete, like a book with many blank pages.
The last thing Corbin perceived before being sucked into a vortex of colors and sensations was the satisfied smile of the grandfatherly God, who muttered to himself: —There we go! Another case closed. Now, where did I put that nectar cake recipe...? Ah, and darn it, I forgot to tell him my name! Well, he'll figure it out later, maybe…
And then, nothingness — then, a brutal awakening.