It was the silence that Kyle cherished most.
A one-room apartment. Cheap. Cracked wallpaper curling at the corners. The faint hum of a fridge on its last legs. Steam curling from a cup of instant noodles on the counter.
That was all he wanted.
That was enough.
He stood in the dim yellow glow of the kitchen, breathing in the scent of artificial chicken like it was incense from the heavens. One hand wrapped around the cup, the other stirring slowly.
Then he set the fork down letting the hot water do its work.
Outside, rain slicked the roads. Cars murmured past, tires whispering over wet asphalt. Inside, there was warmth. Stillness. Kyle leaned on the counter, eyes half-lidded, letting it all soak in.
He was twenty-three, according to his ID. Technically true.
But forty-three worlds had other things to say.
Some had aged him years. Others, just days. One made death optional, a cruel joke of immortality that came with fine print like must be worshipped and please return to your shrine upon resurrection. He'd died twenty-two times. Once by a goddess's hand. Once by a child who mistook him for a pet.
Seven months had passed since he first vanished.
Only two had passed on Earth.
The math didn't matter anymore. Time had folded, broken, healed. All that mattered was. He was back.
And he was done.
"I just want to sleep," he said aloud, voice soft and scratchy, like old cassette tape. "Eat. Maybe pet a cat. That's all."
The last world had ended in fire. Not metaphorical.
Lava.
Volcanoes.
Lava beasts made of teeth and screaming. Nobles boiled alive in golden armor, still bowing as they melted. They'd sent him home with a statue. Two swords, glowing eyes, heroic pose. He hadn't even liked them.
Now?
He was here. On Earth. In peace. Alone. Alive.
Then the window shattered.
He didn't move.
Glass sprayed across the linoleum. Wind rushed in wildly and strange. Carrying feathers, glitter, and something else. Something sharp. Something glowing.
A radiant egg burst into the room like a divine meteor. It spun midair, curved with intention, and slammed directly into his microwave.
Boom.
It hit right in the microwave face, the salt shaker toppled. A feather landed gently on Kyle's head.
Something wet slapped his forehead.
He opened his eyes.
There, perched on the stove, stood a chicken. Gold-feathered. Faintly glowing. Radiant in the way a fried halo might look if heaven had a deep fryer.
It blinked at him.
He blinked back.
The room was dead silent again. Not even the fridge made a sound.
The chicken clucked.
Politely.
Then it turned, squatted with unnerving composure, and laid a glowing egg. The egg rolled off the stove, bounced on the counter, and plopped straight into his noodle cup like it belonged there.
Kyle sat down.
On the floor.
Very slowly.
"You've got to be kidding me."
The chicken fluffed its feathers. Its eyes shimmered with knowing. Deep in his skull, something clicked. Not like a bang, but like a key turning in an old lock. Like a curse being rearmed.
Fate. Reattaching itself.
Not dramatic this time.
Just... inevitable.
Not again.
He had already saved kingdoms. Already climbed the prophecy ladder, rung by flaming rung. Given the speeches. Swung the swords. Whispered his last goodbyes to the girls he liked.
He was done.
He had noodles to eat.
But now there was an egg.
In them.
And not just any egg. That egg.
The chicken spread its wings once and let out a long, radiant cluck. Somewhere in that sound, Kyle heard a ringtone. Celestial. Familiar. It vibrated in his fillings.
He stared.
Then reached for his fork like a man holding on to the last solid thing in his life.
He pointed it at the chicken.
"No."
The chicken tilted its head.
"I just want to eat my goddamn noodles."
The chicken blinked.
And then the room went white.
Kyle screamed.
He didn't even get one bite.
And.
The world blinked.
BLINK
***
The sky was almost offensively blue.
That unreal kind of blue that looked like it belonged in a loading screen. The kind you'd expect to see behind a fantasy game logo with orchestral horns blaring in the background.
Even the birds were chirping in neat, rhythmic little patterns. Like someone had programmed ambient sound into the scene.
Kyle sat down with a long, cracking groan. His spine popped like bubble wrap under tension.
All around him: quiet, untouched forest. Verdant. Serene. Suspicious.
"Great," he muttered. "Fantasy world… again."
The metal fork in his hand was dull, cheap, and oddly comforting. The last thing he had from the real world. No phone in his pocket. No noodles. No spoon. Just this stupid fork and a soul full of sarcasm.
He let out a long breath. Not angry. Not even surprised.
Just exhausted.
Another world. Another summoning. Another round of chosen-one nonsense.
And right on cue, the glow came.
[ Welcome, The Chosen One. ]
[ Initializing Survival Protocols... ]
[ Synchronization Initiated… ]
He scowled up at the floating interface. "A system. Of course. Been at least three worlds since I had one of you."
Worlds like this always followed the same script. Magic. Quests. A prophecy. Probably a demon king. And the same old lines:
"You've been summoned to save us!"
"Only you can defeat the evil!"
"You're our savior!"
And then?
Exile. Silence.
Always in that order.
[ Sync Complete: 100% ]
The text flickered in front of him.
He jabbed at the screen with his fork. "Hey, Miss or Mister System. Next time, maybe wait until I've finished my damn noodles before tearing me across space and time."
[ Command Unknown ]
Another prompt appeared.
[ Welcome, The Choosen One. ]
[ Please Say Your Name ]
He frowned. "What the hell?"
[ Welcome, Master What the Hell. ]
[ Do you want to save? ]
[ YES ] [ NO ]
He snorted. "You've got jokes now, huh?"
He clicked NO.
[ Plase Say Your Name. ]
"Handsome," he said flatly. Then sighed. "Kidding. Kyle Emberton."
[ Data has been saved. ]
"Fantastic," he muttered. "Now I'm stuck with a system that thinks I'm a narcissist and a lunatic."
[ Would you like to read the guide? ]
[ YES ] [ NO ]
He clicked NO again. "Been through this rodeo before. I know how this works."
But even as he dismissed the prompt, something gnawed at him. Not just hunger. Not just irritation. Something heavier. Something older. Like fatigue that had seeped into his bones and turned into silence.
Why me again?
Why does this keep happening?
He didn't say it out loud.
But the question lingered.
***
Several hours passed.
Kyle had already started regretting not pressing YES.
His stomach roared. He'd been wandering aimlessly through the forest. Only tall trees, birdsong, nothing helpful. Irritation rose with every step. Fork still in hand. Still no noodles. Still no peace.
"System," he muttered, voice low and grim, "what's your refund policy?"
[ No refunds. Only consequences. ]
He stumbled toward a stream. Finally…something useful. He knelt, drank greedily, and spotted a rabbit on the opposite bank.
Dinner.
"Hey, System. Any skill I can use to catch that rabbit?"
[ Would you like to read the guide? ]
[ YES ] [ NO ]
He groaned. "Would hurt my pride if I said yes."
He hit NO again.
[ Because of your arrogance in refusing the guide, the system grants you 100 BP. ]
[ Choose skill to upgrade: ]
[ Physical ] [ Appearance ] [ Magic ] [ Telekinesis ] [ Random ]
"Magic," he muttered.
The list popped up:
[ Wind – 1000 BP ]
[ Water – 1000 BP ]
[ Random – 10,000 BP ]
[ Fire – 10 BP ]
"Really?" he squinted. "I get Fire for ten and everything else is a flex? Scam."
Still. He picked Fire. Only thing he could afford.
[ Congratulations: You have purchased Fire. ]
[ Learn how to use Fire Magic: 90 BP ]
[ YES ] [ NO ]
He clicked NO.
"I'll figure it out myself. Like always."
Another rabbit hopped into view.
He pointed a hand at it. "Fireball."
A puff of blue flame sputtered out. Barely bigger than a birthday candle.
The rabbit stared. Unimpressed.
But it hit.
Poof.
The rabbit fainted from shock. Lightly singed, but not dead.
The stream? Half the fish floated belly-up and half-cooked by heat somehow.
Kyle blinked. "Acceptable."
He built a firepit from nearby stones, stacked dry twigs, and snapped his fingers.
Fwoosh.
A soft blue flame leapt to life. Gentle. Controlled. Warm.
He sat beside it. Quiet. Roasting the fish in peace.
Finally.
And then came the groaning.
From the trees he heard rustling. Heavy steps. A limp.
Kyle turned just as an old man staggered into view, clutching his side. Burn marks. Cracked ribs. Smoke curling from his clothes.
Kyle didn't ask. He didn't stand. He just pointed to a flat rock by the fire.
"Sit, old man. You're dripping on my mood."
He tossed him a bit of fish. Then, muttering, waved a hand toward the man's chest.
A small blue glow sparked. Just enough warmth to stop the shivering. Just enough to dull the pain.
The man's breathing slowed. His burns faded. His ribs cracked back into place.
Kyle didn't notice.
He was busy flipping the fish.
Then came the gasp.
From the bushes emerged three more: a girl with a staff, a robed man, and a guy holding a chicken like it was the Ark of the Covenant.
They all froze at the edge of the firelight.
The girl's eyes went wide. "It's true… he heals with holy flame…"
"He brings warmth… and meat… and mercy," whispered the robed one.
The chicken squawked reverently.
They suddenly dropped to their knees.
Kyle turned. Fish in hand, fork in the other.
"He conjures flame from nothing…"
"He fed the wounded…"
"Only a god would roast meat that evenly…"
Kyle stared at them.
Then at his fish.
Then at the old man.
"Oh no," he muttered.
"He denies his power," whispered the old man. "So humble."
"He speaks in riddles," said the chicken guy, scribbling into a notebook.
Kyle bit into his fish. Something stuck in his teeth. He picked it out absently.
"A purification ritual…" the old man gasped.
"He doesn't speak," said the robed man. "He lets us interpret."
Kyle looked at them.
Then looked up at the sky.
"I have a bad feeling about this."
"Such divine awareness…" breathed chicken guy.
Kyle stood slowly. Fork still in hand. Fish in the other.
"No. I'm not a god. I'm—"
"He tests our devotion!" shouted the girl.
Kyle exhaled. "I literally just wanted dinner."
"We must build a shrine! Here! Where the sacred fire burned!"
"No village," he said quickly. "Please. No village."
Too late.
One of them had already run off, chicken flapping behind like a second coming.
The others stayed. Watching him. Reverent. Awestruck.
He chewed in silence.
One whispered, "Even the way he eats is graceful…"
Kyle stared into the flames.
[ Confirmation: You are a mortal being with excessively broken stats and God-tier mana density. ]
[ Appearance Rating: 10/10 – Divine Aura Detected. ]
[ Note: You may accidentally form a religion by standing still too long. ]
He groaned. "There was an appearance stat upgrade. If I'd bought that, would I be even more cursed?"
[ Thankfully, you didn't. ]
"You knew this might happen?"
[ Warning: It has already happened. ]
[ Belief Points +37 ]
[ Title Unlocked: Accidental Deity ]
[ New Function Unlocked: Divine Reputation System ]
He closed his eyes.
The villagers were still chanting.
Oh Flame, light our path…
He whispered into the fire, "I should've read the damn guide."
[ Would you like to read the guide now? ]
[ YES ] [ NO ]
He hovered over YES.
Sighed.
"Let me do this first."
He clicked the button.
[ Guide Loading… Estimated Read Time: 72 Hours ]
His hand dropped.
"You've got to be kidding me."
He groaned into the fire.
"God DAMMIT."