Time passed in the void, or maybe it didn't. One of the more unsettling aspects of losing consciousness in a divine dungeon was the complete absence of normal sensory markers.
No sunlight creeping through curtains, no alarm clocks, no distant traffic noise. Just the infinite darkness of unconsciousness giving way to... well, infinite darkness of being awake in a place that existed outside normal reality.
I found myself staring up at what I could only describe as a ceiling made of pure void, not black, but an absence so complete it hurt to contemplate. Stars flickered in and out of existence like dying fireflies, and somewhere in the distance, I could hear the echo of cosmic hammers still pounding away at whatever divine project required eternal labor.
"How long is this going to take?" I wondered aloud, my voice echoing strangely in the vast space. The question hung in the air like incense, unanswered and probably unanswerable.
Part of me, a significant part, if I'm being honest, wondered if it wouldn't be easier to just give up. Lie here on this impossibly uncomfortable stone floor until whatever passed for natural death in this place claimed me. Sure, the system had mentioned something about "eternal death," but how much worse could that be than slowly going insane in a cosmic forge?
A low, rumbling growl echoed through the throne room, reverberating off the obsidian pillars with a sound that spoke of ancient hunger and divine wrath. My blood went cold as the sound rolled over me like a physical thing, and every survival instinct I'd ever developed screamed at me to run, hide, find the deepest hole I could and pray whatever made that sound would pass me by.
The growl came again, longer this time, more insistent.
I clutched my stomach and sighed deeply. "Goddamn it... I'm starving."
Apparently, even in the face of cosmic horror and divine trials, the human body still had priorities. And right now, my body's priority was informing me that I hadn't eaten in... well, I had no idea how long, actually. Time didn't seem to work normally here, but my stomach was keeping its own calendar and demanding attention.
As if responding to my complaint, and honestly, at this point I was willing to believe the universe was actively trolling me, a loading circle appeared in my peripheral vision. The familiar blue ring spun lazily for a moment before being replaced by a translucent window that made my heart sing with joy:
[Would you like: Cup Noodles + Water?]
I stared at the floating interface for a long moment, wondering if this was some kind of cosmic joke. After everything I'd been through, the forced transmigration, the impossible trials, the painful acquisition of magical knowledge, the system was offering me instant ramen?
"Oh mighty system!" I called out, pressing my palms together in mock reverence. "Provider of divine ramen! Bringer of MSG and preservatives! I am not worthy of such generosity!"
I selected the items with the solemnity of a priest performing communion, watching in fascination as they materialized from glowing pixels into solid reality. A standard cup of instant noodles, the kind I'd lived on during my streaming marathons and a plastic bottle of water that looked suspiciously like something you'd buy from a convenience store vending machine.
I could have been amazed at the technology that allowed matter to spontaneously generate from pure energy. I could have marvelled at the implications of a system that could apparently create food from nothing. I could have contemplated the philosophical ramifications of divine beings who understood the deep human need for cheap, processed comfort food.
Instead, all my focus was on the beautiful sight of actual, real food.
Then reality set in.
I looked around the throne room, taking in the divine weapons, the piles of treasure, the mystical anvil that hummed with cosmic power. What I didn't see was any kind of cooking facility. No microwave, no hot plate, no divine equivalent of a kitchen.
"Wait," I said slowly, the horrible realization dawning. "How the hell am I supposed to cook this?"
I turned toward where I imagined the system's attention might be focused and asked politely, "Hey, any chance I could get a microwave? Just a little one? I'm not picky about wattage."
Silence.
"Come on," I continued, my voice taking on a pleading tone. "You can summon food from nothing, but you can't manifest a basic kitchen appliance? That seems like a weird limitation."
More silence.
My politeness evaporated like water on a hot anvil. "Tch. Fine! I don't need your help, you stingy bastard. I'll figure it out myself."
I sat cross-legged next to my precious noodles and water, staring at them with the intensity of a chess grandmaster contemplating a particularly challenging endgame. There had to be a solution. The system wouldn't give me food I couldn't prepare, that would be needlessly cruel, even for a cosmic entity with a twisted sense of humour.
That's when it hit me.
"Wait," I said, snapping my fingers with sudden excitement. "I have Flame Affinity!"
The realization sent a thrill through me that was probably disproportionate to the situation, but I'd take my victories where I could find them. I'd just spent hours absorbing magical knowledge, including basic flame manipulation. Surely I could manage to heat some water?
I stood up, carefully moving away from my precious bottle of water, no sense in accidentally vaporizing my only source of hydration, and prepared to test my newfound magical abilities. Memories of countless anime episodes flooded my mind, scenes of legendary warriors summoning infernos with a gesture, of heroes calling forth the power of dragons to incinerate their enemies.
I took a deep breath, formed the hand seals I remembered from the talk no jutsu master, and shouted with all the confidence I could muster:
"Katon: Gōkakyū no Jutsu!"
I felt something respond, a rush of mana flowing from somewhere deep in the void into my lungs, filling me with warmth and potential. This was it. This was the moment I'd become a proper magical warrior, commanding the forces of—
A pathetic puff of smoke escaped my mouth, dissipating almost immediately into the vast air of the throne room.
I stood there for a moment, arms still positioned dramatically, watching the last wisps of my magical failure fade away. Then I slumped forward, allowing myself exactly one moment of silent crying before pulling myself together.
"I knew it wouldn't be easy," I muttered, wiping my eyes with the back of my hand.