The truck hit him at full speed, and for a brief moment, Kurogami Satoru felt his bones shatter. Blood splattered across the asphalt, his vision fading to black. But instead of fear, he felt only amusement. This is how it ends? How boring. Then—silence. And then—laughter.
"You're an interesting one," a voice echoed through the void. "Most humans beg for their lives. You just smiled."
Satoru grinned. "If I'm already dead, mind if I ask for something fun?"
"Speak."
"Give me everything."
The universe bent.
When Satoru awoke, he was lying in a field of golden grass beneath twin moons. The air hummed with magic, thick and sweet. A translucent screen flickered before his eyes:
[Welcome, Player. You have been granted: OMNIPOTENCE.]
He flexed his fingers. The mountain in the distance vanished. He blinked. It reappeared.
"...Boring."
True power wasn't in having unlimited strength—it was in hiding it.
Three days later, a ragged young man stumbled into the Adventurer's Guild of Eldria, coughing weakly. His clothes were torn, his face smudged with dirt. The guild receptionist, a sharp-eyed elf, barely glanced up from her ledger.
"Name?"
"Shin," he mumbled, the most generic alias he could think of.
"E-rank. Don't die on your first quest."
As he shuffled away, a group of veteran adventurers burst into laughter.
"Look at this twig! Bet he can't even lift a dagger!"
Satoru hunched his shoulders, playing the part perfectly. "Y-Yeah… I'm pretty weak."
Internally, he smirked. I could erase you with a thought.
His first assignment was laughable: Exterminate rats in the guild basement.
But as he descended the creaking stairs, the air thickened. The walls pulsed with hidden energy. A whisper slithered through the darkness:
"Foolish mortal… You dare trespass in the lair of the Blood Serpent Cult?"
Monsters emerged—twisted creatures with too many eyes, too many teeth. Crimson sigils glowed on the stone floor as hooded figures chanted.
Satoru sighed. "I just wanted to kill rats."
The cult leader raised a jagged dagger. "DIE FOR OUR DARK GOD!"
Satoru blinked.
Silence.
The cultists were gone. Not dead—erased from existence. The dungeon? Now just a dusty storage room. A single rat squeaked.
Satoru picked it up by the tail. "Quest complete."
That night, in the royal capital, the High Priest of the Holy Church collapsed mid-sermon, screaming about a vision.
"The Shadow God walks among us!"
Meanwhile, Satoru sat by a campfire, roasting a rabbit he'd conjured from a pebble. He hummed as he flipped through a notebook—one he'd "accidentally" leave in the church library tomorrow.
Inside, written in elegant script:
"The Demon Lord shall rise in seven days. Only the Hero wielding the Sacred Blade can stop him."
He snapped the book shut.
"This world's gonna be so much fun."