Today was a perfectly sunny afternoon—until I got struck by lightning out of nowhere. Crazy, right? I was out buying groceries, minding my own business, and just as I reached for the last pack of instant noodles, boom—my world went dark.
Now, here I am: adrift in an endless void, half-expecting a ROB (Random Omnipotent Being—thanks, internet) to roll up and send me off to some fantasy world like in the anime I binge every night.
"Is there anyone here? Hello?! I don't suppose you have WiFi?"
While waiting for cosmic customer service, let me introduce myself. My name's Henry Allen—a self-certified shut-in. Lived off my family, hiding in my room, pretty much a parasite. Call it a shitty introduction if you want. Hey, it's true.
Things were boring until I discovered anime and manga. That stuff? Lifesaver. Bliss. The only portal out of a crappy reality where my dad drank too much and my sister made me the family punchline.
A shadow flickers and a figure steps into being—like he walked out of an old painting. Long gray hair, beard that nearly reaches his belt, slicked-back hair and thick, swooping eyebrows, robe over robe in mismatched browns. He pushes up retro black glasses.
"Hello there, young man. You're unusually calm."
So it begins.
Of course. It's got to be a god, right? ROB, GOR, Take-Your-Pick? Why am I the one who gets the questionable patch update?
He grins, as if hearing my thoughts.
"Yes, I decided to show up, young man," he says. "You may call me God of Creation, among other names."
I try to look unimpressed. "And my destiny? Hell? Heaven? Or maybe one of those anime worlds with ridiculous cheat abilities?"
He waves a hand. "Normally, it would be none of the above. Truthfully, I was supposed to strike lightning elsewhere and inadvertently hit you. My apologies." He actually bows.
I crack a dry smile. "Not some grand plan? Just cosmic friendly fire?"
"Quite. As amends," he continues, too professional for this space, "I'll allow you two moderate wishes for your next life. No excessive power, but consider it compensation for your inconvenience."
My heart—or whatever passes for it in this place—beats faster. I know this trope.
"Alright, then. First wish: the best growth rate you'll allow."
He nods. "Fifty times average. That's the ceiling."
I keep a hopeful edge out of my voice. "Second wish: superior magic aptitude. As much as possible."
"Granted," he says, almost eagerly. "I look forward to seeing what you do with it."
I let out a breath—habit, not necessity—and feel the universe yank me forward like a hook snagged in my back.
The world shudders around me. My vision splinters; agony like molten lead floods through me, burning, crushing, shredding. Something's slamming against me, not just the world, something inside—no, not inside, with me. Another mind, another will, clawing, gnashing, refusing to move aside.
I scream—raw, silent, my voice swallowed by the dark.
What is this? God said I'd reincarnate, not whatever this is.
All at once, the pain numbs, replaced by cold, and I slip into unconsciousness.
God stared at the swirling mass where Henry's soul was supposed to merge, his jovial expression fading.
"Wait…" He peered at his cosmic terminal, squinting at the fluctuating soul readings. "There's a strong soul already here? Oh no… No, no, no…"
Data flashed across the screen—soul resonance, rejection spikes—each line making his hand tremble. The void itself flickered, shadows rippling outward.
If I mess this up, the entire plane could collapse.
If these souls collide at full force, it would be…
He gulped, voice a whisper. "A world-ending explosion. Not good. Not good at all."
He pressed every emergency control he could find, halting time, scrambling for solutions.
"I need... a soul with enough karma and stability to diffuse this bomb or everything's going to go up like one of the Sage's old experiments."
For the briefest moment, God was no longer an eccentric bureaucrat, but the actual force holding reality together—terrified and desperate not to let this world die due to his blunder.