『Sato's POV』
Ding
[Please Choose a Character]
[Nanamin]
[The King of Games]
[Radio Demon]
[Zeus]
[The Uchiha Survivor]
[Twilight]
[God of Play]
[Brains]
[Sparrow]
[The Smartest Man in the Universe]
[Six Characters Yet To Be Determined]
[10/16 Players Have Joined the Game]
Character selection, huh? Hilarious. I die, wake up in cosmic purgatory, reprogram my sanity with math—and now I'm handed a menu like it's game night with the boys. Feels oddly on-brand.
But where are the other players?
Ding
[Player_05 has been forcibly reincarnated as {Radio Demon} due to 98% compatibility.]
'Ouch. No consent system? Guess the Devs skipped the ethics patch.'
Ding
[The Radio Demon has chosen the DC AU world modifier.]
Ding
[Player_07 has chosen {The Uchiha Survivor} with 4% compatibility and incurred the Low Synergy Penalty: Chance of survival is low.]
'They really went for it, huh. Bold.'
Ding
[Godly_007Fan has chosen {Twilight} with 78% compatibility and received the Melded Minds buff.]
'So buffs, debuffs, modifiers, penalties… This is more than a game. It's a gauntlet. And you don't get retries.'
Ding
[ImPickleRick_404 has chosen {The Smartest Man in the Universe}]
[ImPickleRick_404 has failed to merge with {The Smartest Man in the Universe} due to…
Ę̵̏̄︠́̆̌᷉̈́͝r̵̹︣̇ͩ̍᷈ͧ͋͋͜ṙ̶̡̡̧̗͚̹̜̪͢o̴͓̩᷿͐̕ṟ̸̪̖̗͔̻̘᷿ͦ᷇́͛̌̂ Ę̵̏̄︠́̆̌᷉̈́͝r̵̹︣̇ͩ̍᷈ͧ͋͋͜ṙ̶̡̡̧̗͚̹̜̪͢o̴͓̩᷿͐̕ṟ̸̪̖̗͔̻̘᷿ͦ᷇́͛̌̂ E̸̦̦̦̦̦̦̦̦̦̔̔̔̔̔̔̔̔̔r̸̼̼̼̼̚̚̚r̷̠̠̠̐̐o̷͇͇͇͇͇͇͇͇͇͇͒͒͒͒r̷̢̢̢̢̢̢᷇]
[As fix system has g̴̦̙͗͒͑︡r̷̨̦̝ͭa̶̢͕̘͓̤̙̺̟̲͆̏̌̽̿n̴̦̜̭̮͓᷊̦︣᷅᷅̈́᷀̋ṱ̶̰᷿̟̟᷂͔̗̿͐︣᷈̓ͭ̍︡᷁͟e̴᷿̖̼ͨ̇ḑ̸̩͔̩᷉̌̾ͥ︢᷁̅͞ Player the C̸̢̲̜̱̖᷿ͩͣͦ͗͊̄᷇︢︠̕͜ü̵̗͔͖̯̩͌̏s̶͔͂᷈͢t̷̨̢̛͚̪͈̩̞͈͖̻̔̆᷅͌ͫo̴̳͚̬᷈͋͟m̷̺̝̽̿̇ͧ Ṡ̴̩̱͖͔̇̀̀̽̇᷆t̸̮̗̹᷂̤̰̯̩̳᷈ͯͨ᷅ͫ͟͠a̵͎̣᷂̖ͯ̐̾͜r̴᷊̲̻͕͎̓̃̿̔t̴̡̪̫͈̭̣̞͓̝᷈ͣ̇ͤ p̵̰͖̼̺̠̭̝̫̯͒̓᷃͐̀̔ͨ̈́͞á̸̡̛̪᷂̜ͩͤ᷆ͮ̿̓͂͐c̵͎̤̞̜̦͑͒͐͢͟k̶̲͉͓̝͚͇̬̰͔ͮ̑͒̋̀͝.̴̯̬̞̮̠̽ͤ̏᷄᷀̚]
The interface glitched. Badly. Even the system couldn't process what just happened.
'Yikes. Classic Rick. Too unstable for the matrix to handle.'
Ding
[First Player Batch Has Been Transported To Their New Lives]
[Next Batch To Be Transported Will Be Selected In 5 Minutes]
Alright. First observation—names. Some players stamped with cold, impersonal numbers. Others flashing usernames like they owned the place.
"Rank? Randomization? Favoritism?" I mused aloud, tossing out theories like baited hooks. "Or maybe you just flipped a coin." I grinned to myself. I didn't expect a direct response, but subtle things—pauses, delays, odd flickers—those were the tells I hunted for.
Normally, you'd expect a tutorial. Hand-holding. Safety nets. The onboarding nonsense meant to ease players into commitment.
But Player Five?
"Didn't even get a disclaimer," I said lightly. "What's the rush, System? Scared he'd actually ask questions?"
Still nothing. But the next screens came faster, almost as if nudging me along.
"Compatibility stats…" I muttered, watching the cascading numbers. "Optional, right?"
The silence that answered was damning.
"Yeah, didn't think so. Choose wrong, and you're not just making it harder—you're setting the self-destruct timer." I tapped the air beside me, as if checking off points on an invisible clipboard. "Low compatibility equals penalties. Probably a survival handicap. High compatibility gives buffs—and maybe, if you're lucky, narrative leverage."
I threw a glance up at the digital void. "Or maybe it's just random chaos, and you're bluffing." The system's display stuttered—not much, but enough for me to smile.
And then came PickleRick.
Soon as he reached for "The Smartest Man in the Universe," I deliberately muttered, loud enough for whatever was listening: "Oh yeah, that'll work out great. No risks at all. Perfect match. Bet he'll get a legendary achievement just for breathing." The system spasmed. Glitched. Froze mid-update.
"Ha," I whispered. "Nailed it."
Another tick in the mental ledger:
The system hears.
The system cares.
The system corrects.
Which meant it could be misled. Manipulated. Played.
I leaned forward slightly, a shark circling the scent of blood. "You're not omniscient," I said under my breath. "You're reactive. And that means you can be beaten." My smile sharpened.
It was a lie, of course. I didn't have control. Not here. Not yet.
But I was learning. Adapting. And if life was a game, then adapting was the real win condition. I glanced back at the character list.
"Now then," I murmured, "let's see if you can keep up."
Ding
[You've been selected for the next batch.]
The voice was… different. Subtly. Another presence? Another system?
Ding
[Please Choose a Character]
[Nanamin]
[The King of Games]
[Zeus]
[God of Play]
[Brains]
[Sparrow]
[Six Characters Yet To Be Determined]
[10/16 Players Have Joined the Game]
The player count hasn't shifted. Meaning: joining the game and being in the lobby are separate states. Good to know.
Ding
[PrototypeLover942 has chosen {Zeus} with 67% compatibility and received the {Blacklight System} and the Either/Or Synergy Penalty: Nemesis; Blackwatch.]
"Oh, that Zeus," I muttered. 'Bit dramatic, but on-brand.'
Ding
[Two players have joined the game.]
'Figures.'
Ding
[New Character Options Have Been Added.]
[Zeus has chosen MCU and Comic Mashup as world modifier.]
'Oh? So this is the part where the gloves come off.'
[Wait—one of the players is starting to ascend.] said the Voice of Apprise.
Ascension?
{What!?} said the Voice of Selection.
I felt… strange. Heavier and lighter all at once. Like the code of this place was brushing against me, recognizing me. Accepting? Or repelling?
"Then Da Fuck Are Ya Standing Around For? Purge Them Now!" snarled the Voice of Importance.
The scenery broke apart like a badly rigged chessboard flipped mid-match.
Shadows spilled forth—dense, warped, reeking of burnt rubber and something almost human. Failed projections. Avatars that couldn't hold their shape.
Three rose higher, towering over the shattered field—the voices I'd heard earlier, now wearing bodies as poorly as bad actors in a collapsing play.
The lobby, never built for truth, splintered under the strain. Cracks spider webbed through floor and sky alike, veins of light and nothingness fracturing the whole illusion. Through them, I caught glimpses of the real void—the one that doesn't comfort, doesn't lie. The one that just is.
It felt like a familiar board position. King exposed. Defenses shattered. No clean retreat. Standard move? Tighten ranks. Minimize damage. Scramble for whatever control remained.
My old instincts urged it—loud, fierce, automatic.
Plan. Predict. Dominate.
That was the old rhythm. The old lie.
But standing there, surrounded by breaking reality, I saw it for what it really was.
This wasn't a chess match.
This wasn't a problem to solve.
It was an invitation.
A dare without rules.
On one side: Divinity. Safety. Certainty. Power with a price tag labeled "predictable eternity."
On the other: Chaos. Change. Uncertainty. A game still wild enough to mean something.
The old me would have chosen control without hesitation.
But the part of me that had been starved for something real—for something unpredictable and alive—finally woke up.
The void pressed closer, silent and infinite, asking nothing, offering everything.
There was no map here.
No endgame I could script.
No master move that guaranteed victory.
And for the first time… that didn't terrify me.
It thrilled me.
I smiled into the breaking world, feeling the cracks not as loss—but as freedom.
First, though—one last ritual. One last question. A courtesy to the dying board.
Because if I was going to leap into the unknown…
I would leap properly.
I whispered it like a secret.
"No maps. No masters. Just the game."
And with a breath I didn't have and a heart I wasn't sure still beat,
I leapt.
『3rd POV』
In the shattered lobby, amidst cosmic fracture, a single voice spoke.
"If I refuse godhood… can I still play?" asked the Voice of the Gamer.
The shadows paused, their attention shifting. "You Expect Us To Believe You'd Throw Away Divinity For That?" sneered the Voice of Importance.
"The other players seek godhood," reasoned the Gamer. "But I want something else. I want the thrill of the unpredictable. I want to play."
The voices murmured. Apprise and Selection nodded.
"Pfft—Ha! That's Rich," cackled Importance.
"I'm not like the others," the Gamer said calmly. "They want endings. I want the game."
"… All in favor?" asked Apprise.
"Aye." "Accepted."
"Hell No! Not Without Rules!" barked Importance.
"Rules? Oh, you mean those polite suggestions I'll definitely follow creatively?"
The shadows shifted.
"You'll Get No Cheats. No Powers Your Character Couldn't Have. And You'll Start At The Beginning. As A Baby."
"Great. Diapers and destiny. Challenge accepted."
"… Very Well." Importance raised a hand. "Please Don't Resist."
『1st POV』
For a long moment after the screen stabilized, I said nothing.
Not because I didn't have something clever lined up. I always did. But because something deeper was stirring beneath the surface.
I'd poked the system. Forced its hand. But the truth was obvious—painfully, stubbornly obvious.
I hadn't won.
I hadn't predicted everything. I hadn't seized control. All I had done was provoke a reaction. A twitch. A ripple in a much bigger ocean.
A clever move on the first turn didn't guarantee a checkmate. Hell, it didn't even guarantee survival.
I exhaled—slow, steady. If I wanted to survive this, thrive in it even, I couldn't just map it like a chessboard. Couldn't treat it like another problem to brute-force.
I'd have to play.
Really play. Adapt. Evolve. Let go of the fantasy that perfect planning could solve a world designed to shift beneath my feet.
"Alright, you oversized gacha machine," I murmured, stepping forward, fingertips brushing the floating character list, "let's dance." This time, not to control the game.
But to live it.
Ding
[Please Choose a Character]
[Nanamin]
[The King of Games]
[God of Play]
[Brains]
[Sparrow]
[Magus of Flowers]
[The Fullmetal Alchemist]
[Six Characters Yet To Be Determined]
[12/16 Players Have Joined the Game]
In the quiet between choices, I made a promise.
No grand speeches. No melodrama.
Just a simple truth, stitched into the marrow of my mind:
"I won't waste this life trying to master it. I'll live it. I'll lose. I'll win. I'll fall. I'll rise. But above all… I'll play."
Not because it's safe.
Not because it's smart.
But because it's real.
I tapped the name I knew was mine.
"I choose {God of Play}. Let's make this interesting."
Ding
[TheNaïveGamer has chosen {God of Play} with 99% compatibility and has been reborn.]
Ding
「We look forward to the start of your new life」