You could hear the soft, rhythmic tapping of a controller.
The faint sound of gunfire and footsteps came from the TV as the game played on.
A single boy sat on the edge of his bed, eyes fixed on the screen, barely blinking. His silver hair fell just above his eyes, and the pale light from the monitor cast a faint glow on his face.
On the wall behind him was a large GTA poster—the one with the blonde girl in sunglasses holding a phone in one hand and a lollipop in the other, wearing just a red bra.
It had been there for months, slightly curling at the edges. His room wasn't messy, but it wasn't neat either. A half-finished bag of chips lay on the desk, a couple of soda cans lined beside his PlayStation 5, and a few game cases stacked like a small tower.
Arthur didn't move much. His face stayed still, expression calm and blank as always, but not cold. That was just how he looked.
He was half Japanese and half American, and his family had moved back to Kyoto, his mother's hometown, a few months ago. It still didn't feel like home to him, but it was quiet, and he didn't mind that.
His parents were away for a week, traveling overseas for an important business meeting. It had been months since he got the house to himself. He wasn't planning to waste it.
The screen flashed as the enemy screamed. He was at the final boss of Resident Evil 8, eyes fixed on the target. The girl's voice echoed from the speakers, sharp and eerie.
"Come find me if you can."
He leaned forward slightly, pressing the buttons faster. His movements were clean, practiced. The screen shook, light flickered, and a short cutscene played before the victory sound rang out. The words "Game Completed" appeared at the bottom corner.
Arthur stared for a few seconds, then placed the controller on the table. His eyes drifted to the side where a few empty snack packets lay.
"Out already," he said quietly. His voice was calm, almost bored. He glanced at his phone. It was 5:03 a.m.
He stretched his arms a little, yawning softly, and looked around the dim room. The faint orange glow of dawn crept through the curtains. It was too early for most stores to be open, but the nearest supermarket ran twenty-four hours.
He slipped on his black and orange tracksuit, the one he always wore at home, grabbed his wallet, and stepped outside.
Kyoto was still asleep. The streetlights flickered softly against the pale morning mist. The air was cool but not cold. He walked with slow, steady steps, not in any hurry. The roads were empty except for the occasional passing car.
The supermarket door chimed as he entered. A sleepy clerk behind the counter gave him a nod without saying anything. Arthur picked up a few bags of chips, some candy, and a can of coffee from the cooler. He paid, packed his things, and stepped back outside.
He opened the coffee can, the small hiss breaking the silence, and took a slow sip. The bitter taste felt sharp but familiar. He started walking back home, the quiet street stretching ahead of him, the faint sound of birds just beginning to rise.
He was halfway across the road when it happened.
The light changed. Not from the sky, but from everywhere at once. A blinding white glare swallowed the street. Arthur stopped, one foot still on the road, eyes narrowing as the brightness grew stronger until everything disappeared.
When he opened his eyes again, the world was gone. The buildings, the road, the dawn sky—all of it had vanished.
He stood alone in a wide, endless white space. There was no wind, no sound, no shadows. Just silence.
Arthur blinked once. His hand was still holding the coffee can. He looked around, calm but confused, trying to make sense of what he was seeing.
"…What is this?" he said quietly.
There was no answer. The silence stretched on, empty and complete, like the world itself had been erased.
Arthur touched his face and pinched his cheeks, pressing until he felt the faint sting of skin. It hurt. His fingers were warm. His pulse felt steady.
So this wasn't a dream. Or if it was, it was far too detailed to be one.
He exhaled quietly, the sound strangely loud in the silence around him. His shoes didn't even make a sound against the white ground, as though it absorbed everything. He took another cautious step forward, scanning the endless space that stretched out in every direction.
Then a voice broke the quiet.
"Welcome to my domain, human."
It was low and cracked, as though each word was dragged through stone before it reached him. The sound came from everywhere at once, echoing in his ears and inside his head. It was so sudden, so overwhelming, that Arthur flinched and stumbled a step backward.
The air in front of him rippled like water struck by a stone. From the distortion, something began to take shape — faint at first, then darkening, growing, twisting.
A gate.
It emerged slowly, piece by piece, from the empty white. Iron-black, massive, and ancient-looking. Strange patterns were carved along its surface, glowing faintly like molten lines of gold, pulsing with every breath Arthur took. The air grew heavy, pressing against his skin.
The ground beneath his feet trembled once, a deep metallic groan echoing as the gate anchored itself into the emptiness. Then, with a deep resonant sound, the doors began to open.
A wave of cold air rolled out from within.
Arthur's eyes widened slightly as something stepped through.
It was tall—humanoid—but not human. The figure's body shimmered like liquid shadow, edges constantly shifting as though refusing to settle on a single shape. Limbs too long, fingers tapering into nothing, its face hidden beneath a shifting haze that seemed to stare back despite having no eyes.
It walked closer, soundless, and then sat down right in front of him, cross-legged, like a teacher before a student. The silence that followed felt alive.
Arthur didn't move. He wanted to speak, but his throat was tight, his voice locked somewhere between disbelief and fear.
Then, before his eyes, the shadow began to change. It bent inward, collapsing into itself before expanding again with a faint burst of pale light.
What sat in front of him now looked almost human. A tall old man with a long white beard and hair that flowed down past his shoulders. His clothes were gray and simple, like a sage or a hermit. But his eyes
Arthur froze.
The man's eyeballs were missing. In their place were two hollow sockets, dark and deep, from which faint wisps of white smoke escaped and vanished into the air. The sight alone was enough to make Arthur's skin prickle, but before he could even react, the man's form shimmered again. The sockets filled. His face reformed itself, adjusting and correcting until it looked right—normal. Almost kind.
"I'm sorry I frightened you."
The same creaking voice spoke again, but softer now. It was as though a mountain had chosen to whisper. The sound carried warmth this time, an attempt at reassurance. And for reasons Arthur couldn't explain, it worked. His breathing steadied.
The world still made no sense, but that voice—broken, echoing, strangely human—made it feel real.
"Um... May I ask where I am?"
Arthur's voice came out quieter than he expected. His tone carried hesitation, not fear but the uncertainty of someone who had lost the ground beneath their feet.
The old man smiled faintly. His features shifted again, not violently this time but smoothly, like water forming into shape. His posture straightened, his clothes darkened slightly, and the light behind him grew warmer. In seconds, the terrifying figure had turned into someone Arthur actually recognized.
He looked exactly like the character Arthur had admired for years - an old sorcerer with calm wisdom and quiet power, a man from the stories and games he loved.
Arthur blinked slowly, his lips parting just a little in disbelief.
"You prefer this appearance, don't you?"
The man's tone was almost amused now, though still gravelly, every word dragging softly through the air.
Arthur hesitated, eyes darting briefly to the ground before nodding once. His voice was low when he answered.
"Yeah… I guess."
The being leaned back slightly, resting his arms on his knees. The faint smile stayed.
"Good. It's easier to talk this way."
The vast white space around them rippled faintly, as though responding to the old man's will. Arthur remained standing, still unsure whether to approach or run, while the strange figure watched him with something that might have been curiosity or something far older.
Arthur stood motionless, his eyes fixed on the figure before him. The being - whatever it was - sat cross-legged on the invisible floor, white hair drifting faintly as if caught in a breeze that didn't exist.
"You are in the residence of an extra-territorial being," the voice said, calm but still holding that strange, broken echo. "Or what you humans may call a ROB... a god. I have summoned you here to make a request."
Arthur's mind blanked for a moment. The words felt distant, almost unreal.
"God...?" he repeated under his breath, as though saying it aloud would make it easier to understand.
The old man tilted his head slightly, as if the word amused him. "If that term helps you comprehend my nature, then yes. A god."
Arthur hesitated, then spoke again, his tone steady but cautious. "If you don't mind me asking again, what could a god possibly need from an ordinary person like me?"
He wasn't sure why he was trying to stay polite. Maybe because that voice carried something that pressed against his very thoughts. It wasn't just sound; it vibrated in him, threading through his mind like low thunder. The sheer presence of it told him enough - whatever stood before him wasn't human. Whether or not it was a god, it had power far beyond his understanding.
The being smiled faintly, though his expression didn't reach the depth of his strange, hollow eyes.
"Don't underestimate yourself, human. All life is important; you are not insignificant at all."
The words came with a faint hum that passed through the air like a current. Arthur felt a soft pressure in his chest, as though something had resonated within him. He didn't reply; he simply looked down at the coffee can still in his hand, the absurdity of it grounding him in a moment that otherwise made no sense.
"Anyway," the voice continued, "you're here because I want to ask for your help to save the world."
Arthur blinked slowly, his eyes lifting again. "Save the world?"
The words slipped out of him automatically, a quiet echo of disbelief. He could hear how small his voice sounded compared to the one addressing him.
"With all due respect," he said after a pause, his tone still controlled but his expression slightly uneasy, "I don't believe I can be of any use to such a lofty purpose."
He gave a small, uncertain shake of his head. "I believe there may be people more qualified for this than I, sir."
The god's expression didn't change. He simply watched him with a calm that bordered on unsettling, the kind of stillness that felt almost inhuman.
"It's true that there are others who meet the same requirements as you," the god said slowly, "but I am giving you the opportunity nonetheless... because you seem to desperately want it."
Arthur frowned faintly. "Desperately want it?"
The being leaned forward slightly, and for the first time, the empty white space darkened around them, faint gray shadows crawling across the ground like veins of smoke.
"Let me explain the problem first, human," the god said. His tone deepened, each word heavy enough to make the air vibrate. "Then you may decide if you truly wish to refuse my request."
Arthur swallowed and nodded once. "Alright."
"Then let me explain the situation in great detail."
Arthur listened. He didn't move, only watched as faint shapes of light began to move through the space around them, forming shifting patterns that resembled stars, planets, and countless lines of color interwoven like threads.
"In short," the god said, "your Earth is in danger of being destroyed because of the enormous number of stories and tales that humans have created. It turns out that every book, novel, or comic that the humans of Earth write becomes a reality that exists on a plane lower than their own."
Arthur blinked slowly. He wanted to ask something but stayed quiet, waiting for the rest.
"Under normal circumstances," the god continued, "these realities born of human imagination could not affect you because their existential hierarchy is far below yours. However, in recent years, the sheer number of fictional worlds has become so vast that they've begun colliding with each other. Each collision creates waves that reach your reality. If nothing is done, those waves will grow stronger and stronger until they sweep your world away."
Arthur felt a strange chill in his stomach, the kind that came from understanding something far too large for human comprehension.
The old man gestured slightly with his hand. The stars of light moved again, forming shapes that looked like universes colliding, fragments of color breaking and merging.
"According to the god's order," he said quietly, "the solution is quite simple. Humans from Earth must be sent into these lower worlds to take control of their narratives. Once a human gains influence there, the existential rank of that world will fall another level. Because these worlds are born of humanity's imagination, their existence cannot be equal to or greater than that of a human being."
Arthur frowned slightly, following the light that shifted in front of him.
"This will make it possible to ease the overpopulation of realities without destroying any of them."
The space grew still again, and the old man's gaze rested on him.
"The reason you were chosen," he said, "is because you possess great knowledge of novels and a strong desire to live in one."
Arthur's breath caught for a moment. He hadn't expected something so direct. He looked down at his own hands, pale in the white light.
"So if I were to agree to the request," he said after a pause, "I would be sent to a anime world to live there for the rest of my life, wouldn't I?"
"Yes and no." The god's tone carried faint amusement, though it was still broken and rough. "Sending humans to lower worlds is not easy. You would first choose a single world to serve as your base of operations. From there, you would travel to other worlds to lower their ratings as well."
Arthur's eyes lifted again. "Does that mean I can choose any world I want as my base?"
The god nodded once. "Since I am asking you for a favor, it is only right that I grant you certain benefits. One of them is the freedom to choose any world you wish as your base."
Arthur stayed quiet, thinking through what he'd just heard. His calm face didn't show much, but his mind was moving quickly.
"I understand the logic of the request," he said slowly. "And I also understand the reason. But I'm still worried about not being able to meet your expectations, sir. After all, I'm not powerful by any means."
The god's voice softened a little. "Do not concern yourself with that. I will grant you a system that will help you become stronger so that you do not need to worry about such details."
Arthur nodded faintly, still not fully grasping the scale of what was being asked, but knowing that it was something he couldn't walk away from easily.
"So tell me, human," the god said finally, "do you accept my request?"
Arthur stood in silence for a long time. His eyes were fixed on the white ground beneath him, his thoughts drifting between the absurdity of it all and the strange sense of opportunity that came with it.
The god waited patiently, unmoving, his gaze steady and ancient.
At last, Arthur looked up. His voice was quiet, but clear.
"I'd be happy to help you."
Now that you've accepted, choose the world you want as your base. You can take all the time you need to decide.
"I'll also give you something as a courtesy."
A small orb of light appeared before Arthur, floating silently in the stillness. It hovered for a moment before darting toward his forehead.
As it touched his skin, a faint warmth spread through his entire body. His mind cleared instantly, sharper and more focused than it had ever been. Every detail of his life came rushing back in perfect clarity, but what struck him most was that he could now recall every story he had ever read. Every world, every power system, every character, every ending—all stored within his mind like an infinite library.
It was as if his brain had been rebuilt to perfection.
He stood quietly, letting the flood of information settle. Then, after sorting through countless novels, manga, and shows, he narrowed his choices to three in particular.
- Tensura.
- Berserk.
- High School DxD.
Each one carried its own allure. Tensura promised limitless evolution, Berserk offered unyielding struggle and depth, and High School DxD... well, that one needed no explanation. The decision, if he was being honest, wasn't purely strategic.
Since I'm going to save the world, I might as well enjoy myself while doing it, he thought with faint amusement.
After what felt like hours of reflection in the timeless void, Arthur finally looked up.
"I've already chosen the world I wish to designate as my base, sir."
The god's calm eyes met his. "In that case, I won't waste any more of your time. I wish you the best of luck, brave human."
Light began to bloom beneath Arthur's feet. It started faintly, then grew brighter with each passing heartbeat, surrounding him in pure radiance. The air trembled around him, reality bending like a mirage. He shut his eyes as the brightness became unbearable.
When he opened them again, the vast white plain was gone.
He stood in a large, ornate room illuminated by morning sunlight spilling through tall windows. The air was warm, scented faintly of incense. It felt too vivid to be a dream.
Then a voice echoed directly in his mind, smooth and mechanical yet distinctly feminine.
[Host's arrival detected]
[Loading "Dimensional Traveler Support System"...]
[10%... 20%... 50%... 100%...]
A clear tone sounded, almost like a bell.
[You can now check your status]
[First mission generated]
["Stealing the Spotlight"]
Arthur blinked once, his breath catching for a moment. He looked around the unfamiliar room, heart pounding with a rush of excitement and disbelief.
He had truly been transported to another world.
Far away, in the endless white void he had left behind, the figure that once appeared as an old man slowly shifted again.
The image of the kindly sage melted away, reforming into the tall, formless shadow that had first greeted him. The faint echo of a creaked, chilling voice rippled through the emptiness.
"I hope this little one surprises me."
Hoho