This is a fanfic created solely for entertainment purposes.
The worlds, characters, and elements belonging to existing works (such as animes, movies, series, novels, or video games) are the property of their respective creators and companies.
It is not intended to replace, alter, or appropriate the original material.
All additional concepts —including the Essence of the Granted Desire, the dimensional shop, the castle, and any narrative expansion— are original elements created for this story.
The events described here are not part of the official canon of any work.
Any resemblance to real stories or situations is coincidental.
Enjoy the reading.
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[First person - Jhon]
Death had claimed me. Or so I thought.
The first fifteen years of my life in Bogotá had been faint, neither too exciting nor too boring. Basically, like a secondary character: I had a girlfriend, I had sex, I was a victim of infidelity, I experienced existential crises, I had friends, I lost friends. What any person goes through at some point in their life —for some it never stops being a stage—, generally between 17 and twenty-five years old. My only advantage was being born moderately handsome, and with that I already had a better life than most.
Then, at seventeen, I met the world of fiction and my mindset changed.
Yes, it sounds pathetic to say that some drawings or letters turned me into another person, but it's true. They didn't just entertain me; the more I read, the more I absorbed. The more I watched, the more I learned.
I observed how the characters did it and studied the knowledge I could obtain freely in my world.
Besides, while working, I used my money to learn from other people, managing to become in a few years an expert in everything, but master of nothing.
Reading people, discovering their tastes, manipulating situations, mastering manners, knowing how to impose presence... I exercised all of it. And practice makes perfect. Especially sex with hentai. Ahem.
Then reality became a bit bland. I began to see human beings as they really were: fragile beings. And I became aware that I myself was fragile. I sought to find myself in a superior being, to be able to depend on him, to help me survive in this life, but I received nothing.
Maybe because of my "ego" and lack of faith, maybe because I wasn't capable of humbling myself even if I was a speck of dust in the universe.
Then I knew that it depended on myself, on my actions, on my decisions. And that's why I became aware that, no matter how much I learned, changed, improved or trained, I wouldn't represent anything before a superior being, before a gun, a badly fallen debris, a blow to the nape or a knife. That's how fragile we all were.
So my greatest desire for years was that: to stop being normal.
But of course, reality hit. No matter how much I desired it, it didn't mean it would come true.
Then I lived my life. Without a family to seek or appreciate, it was me and the world.
Like me there were many people, many fans wanting to reincarnate, wanting to have their harem, live their fantasy. What differentiated me from them was that I acted, trained, improved, learned. Because if reincarnating wasn't possible, then I would enjoy my current life to the fullest.
But I couldn't. I couldn't even live a normal life for more than 23 years.
All because I bought a strange jar from a homeless man who had found it. Any other person would have ignored it, but when you had a critical eye, if you saw someone with a jar that said "essence", wouldn't you try it? What could you lose? At most it was acid and you died.
So here we are, before everything goes to hell.
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I was in my house, although it was destroyed, with most things thrown on the floor.
My television was on the floor.
One part was totally black and another showed a news about the presidential elections.
Only the sound of the announcer's voice and my controlled breathing could be heard.
The smell of gunpowder flooded my nostrils, aware of what was happening.
I was standing in my living room, wearing my characteristic black suit and keeping my enigmatic smile even under tension, trying to prevent my thoughts from reflecting on my expression.
I placed my hands behind my back and observed the five men in front of me, near the door at the exit, pointing assault rifles at me.
"Gentlemen, we can talk this out", I said trying to sound as calm as possible, without realizing the drops of sweat that ran down sticking my black disheveled hair to my forehead.
I had learned many things, I had learned to defend myself, to act, but in the end it was all theoretical knowledge and the practice I had was with trainers. When you lived a real experience of danger, the human being was unpredictable.
However, no matter how much my body responded to the situation making my heart beat very fast, on my back I had a knife that I always kept in my sleeve. If I was going to die, I would die taking one with me.
The five looked at each other and reloaded their weapons with a metallic and threatening click.
"Hand over the jar and you'll die quickly!", one who seemed to be the leader shouted at me, while the others kept aiming.
"Okay, calm down." I raised one hand slowly from my back, with deliberate movements. "Is this the jar you're referring to?"
The five stopped aiming at my torso to direct their weapons directly at my head. The one who seemed more experienced had visible anxiety on his face, something I could detect immediately.
"Give it quick, kid!" The man approached with his weapon extended, the barrel trembling slightly.
For some reason, they knew what this jar was about.
When I finished taking the jar out of my pocket, I placed it in front of me with a calm smile.
"Didn't answer me, is this it?"
"..."
The men opened their eyes wide at what they saw.
The jar was empty.
"DAMN—!"
I didn't let him finish. Taking advantage of the slight distraction I caused, I jumped to one side, threw the jar into the air and took out the knife from my sleeve in a fluid movement. I threw it straight to his face.
The man pulled the trigger by reflex, but the knife was already flying towards his head.
It embedded right between his eyes.
The leader fell backwards like a felled tree.
"Captain!" the others shouted in unison, while turning their weapons and shooting at me without aiming properly.
BAM BAM BAM
In an impossible way, I watched how in slow motion the bullets went straight to my body. Maybe it was the adrenaline. Maybe because of the essence I had drunk.
"Fuck you, sons of bitches." I flipped the middle finger and cursed them.
When the first bullet was about to pierce my chest, as if by magic, I disappeared.
Everything turned black.
And then... light.
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Hello, readers. This is chapter 2.
I hope you enjoyed it, it's a bit short.
Please comment, what do you think?
Lastly —and I know it's shameless, but I'll leave it here anyway— maybe not now, but in the future: 200 power stones equal one chapter.
Have a good start to the day or a nice end of the night.
[JhonDaoist]