Silence. That's what Kyle cherished most.
Not peace. Not quiet. Silence. The kind that wraps around you. That holds still in the air like dust that's forgotten how to fall.
His apartment was small. A single room that time had given up on. The wallpaper peeled in tired curls. The fridge hummed low, like it was thinking. On the counter, steam rose from a cup of instant noodles, curling into the air like cheap incense in a forgotten shrine.
That was enough. That was everything.
He stood still in the kitchen's yellow light, breathing in the scent of artificial chicken like it might offer salvation. He stirred slowly, like stirring mattered. Like it changed anything. Then he set the fork down and let the noodles become whatever they would become.
Outside, rain whispered across the street. Inside, stillness. A room holding its breath.
Kyle leaned on the counter, elbows down, eyes lowered. Like the weight of forty-three worlds had finally found his shoulders.
His ID said twenty-three.
But time had bent around him.
Some worlds stretched him. Some compressed. One made death negotiable, as long as you didn't mind being worshipped, reborn, or slowly unraveling.
He'd come back twenty-two times. Once by a goddess who glowed from too many places. Once by a child who thought he was a toy.
Seven months had passed since he first left.
Only two here.
But time didn't mean anything anymore.
He was here.
And he was drained.
"I just want to sleep," he whispered. The words sounded like they'd been said too many times. "I just want to eat peacefully. Maybe pet a cat. That's all."
The last world ended in fire.
Not poetic fire. Not metaphor.
Just fire.
Lava. Monsters made of molten in the form of a beast. Nobles boiled alive in golden armor, still trying to bow.
They gave him a statue.
He hadn't even liked them.
Now he had noodles. He had silence.
Silence he felt didn't last long.
The window shattered.
Not like glass breaking.
Like reality giving up.
Feathers floating like a man who seeing things in their drunk, glittering like confetti that remembered it used to be sacred. A wind pressed through the room. It smelled like lightning and fate.
An egg. Bright and spinning, curved through the air like it had a target. Like it knew.
It slammed into the microwave.
BOOM.
The salt shaker tipped. A feather landed on his head. Something wet slapped his forehead.
Kyle opened his eyes.
A chicken stood on the stove.
The chicken glowed gold, lit by something higher.
It blinked.
He blinked back.
Silence returned. Even the fridge stopped.
The chicken clucked. Gentle. Intent.
Then it turned.
Squatted with reverence.
Laid an egg.
The egg rolled off the stove, bounced once, and dropped into the noodles. As if it belonged there.
Kyle sat down. He is not in shock. In surrender.
"You've got to be kidding me."
The chicken blinked.
Something moved in Kyle's chest. A switch flipped. A weight clicked back into place.
Not again.
He'd done this. Saved things. Broken things. Loved things.
He was finished.
He had noodles to eat.
And now there was a glowing egg in them.
The chicken flapped once. Clucked again. The sound echoed faintly, like a distant ringtone from the stars.
Kyle reached for his fork. A drowning man grabbing the last floating piece of reason.
He pointed it at the bird.
"No."
The chicken tilted its head.
"I just want to eat my goddamn noodles."
It blinked.
Then the world went white.
Kyle screamed.
He didn't even get a bite.
And the world blinked.
***
The sky above him was almost offensively blue. That perfect, painted kind of blue, unreal, like it belonged in a video game loading screen. The kind of sky where you'd expect a fantasy logo to fade in slowly, accompanied by soft piano.
Even the birds chirped too neatly. As if someone had programmed ambient sounds to loop.
Kyle sat down with a long, tired groan. His spine popped like bubble wrap under a boot. Around him stretched a forest—lush, green, untouched. Peaceful in a way that made him suspicious.
"Great," he muttered. "Fantasy world. Again."
The metal fork in his hand felt solid. Dull, cheap, and oddly comforting. The last thing he had from Earth. No phone. No bag. No noodles. Just this stupid fork and a soul worn thin by repetition.
He exhaled, letting out something he had been holding in for years.
Another world. Another summoning. Another prophecy waiting to recycle itself.
The glow came moments later.
[ Welcome, The Chosen One. ]
[ Initializing Survival Protocols... ]
[ Synchronization Initiate... ]
Kyle squinted at the floating text. "A system. Of course. Been, what, three worlds since the last one?"
These things always had a pattern. Magic. Quests. A prophecy. Maybe a demon king. Always the same dramatic lines:
"You've been summoned to save us!"
"Only you can stop the darkness!"
"You're our only hope!"
And then, when the saving was done? Silence. Exile. Forgotten. Go back. Repeat.
[ Sync Complete: 100% ]
He poked at the floating window with his fork. "Hey, system. Next time, maybe wait until I finish my noodles before yanking me through time and space."
[ Command Unknown. ]
Another prompt appeared:
[ Welcome, The Choosen One. ]
[ Please Say Your Name. ]
He frowned. "What the hell?"
[ Welcome, Master What the Hell. ]
[ Do you want to save? ]
[ YES ] [ NO ]
He let out a dry laugh. "Great. A smartass interface."
He clicked NO.
[ Plase Say Your Name. ]
"Handsome," he said flatly. Then sighed. "Kidding. Kyle Emberton."
[ Data has been saved. ]
"Fantastic. Now I'm stuck with a system that thinks I'm a narcissist and a lunatic."
[ Would you like to read the guide? ]
[ YES ] [ NO ]
He clicked NO again. "I've done this dance before."
But something still pressed at his ribs. Not hunger. Something more older. A pressure that settled deep beyond the skin, into the bones. Like tiredness made into a shape.
Why me again?
He didn't speak the question aloud.
But it followed him anyway.
***
Several hours passed.
The trees didn't end. The silence didn't break. And Kyle was already regretting not pressing YES.
His stomach roared.
He wandered through the endless green with a fork in his hand and sarcasm in his blood. No noodles. No map. Just aching legs and the creeping feeling of fate sharpening its claws again.
"System," he muttered. "What's your refund policy?"
[ No refunds. Only consequences. ]
He stumbled toward a stream. Clear water. Cold. Real.
He dropped to his knees and drank deeply. Across the bank, a rabbit watched him. Perfect for his dinner.
"Hey, System. Got anything to help me catch that rabbit?"
[ Would you like to read the guide? ]
[ YES ] [ NO ]
He groaned. "Would hurt my pride if I said yes."
He clicked NO.
[ Because of your arrogance in refusing the guide, the system grants you 100 BP. ]
[ Choose skill to upgrade: ]
[ Physical ] [ Appearance ] [ Magic ] [ Telekinesis ] [ Random ]
"Magic," he said. It felt like a gamble. Like always.
[ Wind – 1000 BP ]
[ Water – 1000 BP ]
[ Random – 10000 BP ]
[ Fire – 10 BP ]
He squinted. "Only Fire? This system is a scam."
Still, he clicked it.
[ Congratulations: You have purchased Fire. ]
[ Learn how to use Fire Magic: 90 BP ]
[ YES ] [ NO ]
He hit NO again. "I'll figure it out. Like I always do."
Another rabbit hopped into view.
He pointed at it. "Fireball."
A puff of blue flame shot out. Small. Barely bigger than a candle.
But it hit.
The rabbit flopped over, fainted from shock, fur singed. Not dead. Just confused.
The stream behind it bubbled. Fish floated belly-up, half-cooked.
Kyle blinked. "Acceptable."
He built a firepit from stones. Piled twigs. Snapped his fingers.
Puff.
Blue fire, small but gentle and warm, curled to life.
He sat beside it, roasting fish in silence.
At last. Peace.
Then came the groaning.
The sound of footsteps pressed through the leaves—slow, uneven, dragging. Like someone limping through the forest, each step hesitating against the earth.
An old man staggered into the clearing, smoke clinging to his robes, one hand pressed to his ribs.
Burns. Bruises. A man held together by breath and will, just barely standing.
Kyle looked at him. Said nothing.
Just pointed to a flat rock.
"Sit. You're dripping on my mood."
He tossed him a piece of fish. Then, with a quiet sigh, waved his hand.
He pressed his hands to the man's leg, the warmth rising gently from his skin with blue-flame in his blood, guided by the system, steady and calm.
The old man's breathing eased. His legs snapped back into place with a soft pop.
When he is done, he continue flipping his fish.
Then came the gasp.
From the shadows, three more emerged: a girl with a staff, a robed figure, and a man cradling a chicken like it was divine.
They froze in the firelight.
The girl's voice trembled. "It's true… he heals with holy flame…"
"He brings warmth… and meat…" whispered the robed one.
The chicken clucked, reverent.
All three dropped to their knees.
Kyle turned, fish halfway to his mouth.
"He conjures flame from nothing…"
"He healed the wounded…"
"Only a god would roast meat that evenly…"
Kyle looked at the fish. Then the old man.
"Oh no," he breathed. "Not again."
"He denies his power," the old man whispered.
"So humble," said the girl.
"He speaks in riddles," said the chicken guy, scribbling into a book.
Kyle took another bite. A bone stuck in his teeth.
He plucked it out.
"A purification rite…" the girl gasped.
"He doesn't speak," said another. "He lets the world interpret."
Kyle stared at them.
Then at the sky.
"I have a bad feeling about this."
"Such divine awareness…" the chicken guy breathed.
Kyle stood up with fork in one hand and fish in the other.
"No. I'm not a god. I'm—"
"He tests our faith!" the girl shouted.
He exhaled. "I just wanted dinner."
"We must build a shrine," someone said. "Here! Where the sacred fire burned!"
"No-no. No village," Kyle said, eyes wide. "Please, no village."
Too late.
One of them had already sprinted off, chicken flapping behind.
The others stayed.
Watching.
Breathless.
"He even eats with grace…" someone whispered.
Kyle stared into the fire.
[ Confirmation: You are a mortal being with excessively broken stats and God-tier mana density. ]
[ Appearance Rating: 10/10 – Divine Aura Detected. ]
[ Note: You may accidentally form a religion by standing still too long. ]
He groaned. "If I'd upgraded Appearance, would I be even more cursed?"
[ Thankfully, you didn't. ]
"You knew this might happen?"
[ Warning: It has already happened. ]
[ Belief Points +37 ]
[ Title Unlocked: Accidental Deity ]
[ New Function Available: Divine Reputation System ]
The villagers were chanting again.
"Oh Flame, light our path…"
Kyle whispered into the fire. "I should've read the damn guide."
[ Would you like to read the guide now? ]
[ YES ] [ NO ]
His finger hovered.
He sighed, his hand on YES.
"Let me do this first."
Click.
[ Guide Loading... Estimated Read Time: 72 Hours ]
His hand fell.
"You've got to be kidding me."
He groaned into the flames.
"God DAMMIT!"