"Alright. Let's start again." Saruto exhaled and rolled his shoulders, as if resetting himself. He planted his feet and faced the figure properly.
"Before that," the figure cut in, raising a finger. "I can only allow you three questions."
"Huh?!" Saruto recoiled a step. "Oh come on—!"
"Agh… fine. Let me pick." He crossed his arms and started thinking.
Then uncrossed them.
Then paced two steps to the left.
Then two steps to the right.
He stopped, stared at the ground, rubbed his chin, crouched slightly, stood back up, looked at the sky, sighed, scratched his head, and muttered to himself.
The figure watched in silence.
Thirty seconds passed.
A minute.
Two.
By the fourth minute, the figure's foot began tapping.
By the sixth—
"JUST ASK THE DAMN QUESTION ALREADY!!" the figure yelled, throwing both arms up.
Saruto flinched. "Alright, alright! Geez, no need to get that mad." He straightened up again. "Okay."
He raised a finger. "First. who are you, and why was I summoned?"
The figure puffed its chest out dramatically. "Well! I go by the title of… The One! Your awesome and handsome low-rank god!"
It struck a proud pose, one hand on its hip, the other pointing at itself.
Saruto stared at it.
His face twisted slightly.
Not into anger. Not confusion.
Just pure, silent judgment.
"…Cringe."
"I can hear you, you know." The figure slumped, folding its arms and rolling its nonexistent eyes.
Saruto blinked. "Wait. Low-rank?"
"Oh, that's simple." The figure waved a hand dismissively. "I'm a god created by the author. Unlike some beings who scream 'I am God the creator of all thing!' and conveniently never explain where they came from."
It shrugged. "I'm chill. I don't mind clarifying that I'm not absolute."
"…Uh-huh." Saruto nodded slowly, only half listening by this point.
The figure leaned closer. "Are you even paying attention?"
"You were talking?" Saruto replied automatically.
"…You're unbelievable." The figure pinched the bridge of where its nose should've been. "Anyway. As for why you were summoned? can't tell you."
Saruto snapped to attention. "What? Why not??"
The figure straightened. "Not because I ragebaited by some annoying mortal." It jabbed a thumb at itself. "I literally can't."
Saruto squinted. "That sounds suspiciously convenient."
The figure shrugged again. "Welcome to divinity."
The figure continued in a calm, almost careful tone. "But the only information I can give you is this—'75 hero.' That's all."
Saruto stared at it.
"Uhhhhh…" His shoulders sagged slightly. "Sooo like… is that a hint? A requirement? Recruit hero? Or are you just throwing random numbers at me?"
The figure lifted both hands and shrugged again. "Maybe. Or maybe not. I can't tell you." It tilted its head.
"Now you have one last question."
"What the hell?!" Saruto snapped upright. "The question about your rank doesn't count!"
"Meh." The figure waved a hand lazily. "It counts."
"No it doesn't!"
"Yes it does~"
Something in Saruto's eye twitched.
This wasn't divine wisdom anymore. This was bait. Pure, deliberate ragebait—and it was working.
He dragged a hand down his face and let out a long, strained sigh, the kind that came from deep in the chest.
Then he started walking.
Slowly.
One step.
Then another.
The figure didn't react at first. Only when Saruto stopped right in front of it did it stiffen.
Too close.
Uncomfortably close.
Close enough that the figure instinctively leaned back, even though it didn't need personal space.
Saruto leaned forward slightly, his shadow falling over the figure's chest. His voice dropped low.
"…Where's my OP system."
The figure froze.
"Every isekai," Saruto continued quietly, "has some kind of cheat. Stats. Menus. Skills. Something that breaks balance..."
The figure flinched. "U-uh… w-well, it's because you don't… n-need it! Yeah! That's right!" It laughed nervously. "You're smart! Super smart! Way too smart to need a system!"
It waved its hands upward as if trying to physically dismiss the topic, but the motion stalled halfway, awkward and unconvincing.
Saruto narrowed his eyes.
"HUHH?" He leaned even closer. "I know I'm smart. I just want to know, why...?"
Then his expression shifted. "…Hmm?"
He tilted his head slightly. "You know… in this world of yours…" A pause. "There are churches, right?"
The figure went stiff.
Its entire body language changed in an instant.
"…F-Fine!" it blurted out. "Fine, fine, fine!" It threw its arms up this time exaggeratedly. "It's complicated, okay?! I'm low-rank! Creating a full system without the author's help is insanely hard!"
"Do you know how difficult it is to design a functioning system from scratch?!"
It turned away, shoulders hunched. "I already sent an system application to the author!"
Saruto blinked. "You… what?"
"I got rejected!" the figure snapped back, mortified. "With a reply!" It covered its face with both hands. "I'd rather die than explain it out loud. Here! just read it yourself!"
It snapped its fingers.
A sheet of paper appeared in midair and fluttered down between them.
Saruto stepped back, caught it before it hit the ground, and unfolded it.
He read.
———
Name: Plot Armor System
Application: Automatically alters reality, causality, and character outcomes to optimize success at all times.
Reason for Rejection: Removes all agency, conflict, and consequence. Characters cannot fail, choose, or grow. The narrative collapses into automatic resolution with no tension. This system replaces storytelling with a solved equation.
———
Saruto read it once.
Then again.
"…Holy shit."
He looked up slowly, disbelief written all over his face. "Your system idea is straight up trash."
The figure flinched.
"This isn't a system," Saruto continued, jabbing the paper in the air. "This is just 'you win' written with extra steps! No struggle, no failure, no choice—what's the point?!"
The figure didn't argue.
It just stood there, shoulders slumped, taking the verbal beating in silence.
For all its divine status, it was painfully clear in that moment—
A mortal's perspective was far harsher, far more grounded, and far more honest than anything a low-rank god could come up with on its own.
It looked less like a god now.
And more like a newbie getting chewed out by a veteran who had actually lived through consequences.
"Nevermind!"
Saruto snapped, waving the paper away like it offended him on a personal level. "I don't want your weird-ass system!"
He paused, then muttering to himself.
"…Although, yeah, it does sound like heaven for someone like me," he admitted flatly.
"BUT!"
He suddenly stepped forward and pointed straight at the figure's chest, finger almost poking into the white outline.
"The least you can do is granting me three wishes instead. In exchange."
He leaned in. "Deal?"
The figure let out a confused, "huh?"
Its body tilted backward slightly, like it was physically trying to avoid. A full second passed. Then another.
"…You're negotiating with a god," it said slowly.
"Yep."
"With a finger."
"Correct."
The figure looked down at the finger. Then back up. Then it sighed—long, tired, and very un-divine.
"…Alright," it muttered. "Three wishes. As long as it's not something ridiculous."
Saruto immediately pulled his hand back and straightened up, expression calm and satisfied like he'd just won an argument at a market stall.
"See? That wasn't so hard."
"I didn't expect this," it grumbled. "Getting talked down to by a mortal. Me. A literal god."
It glanced at Saruto sideways. 'I should've picked someone quieter...'
Saruto smiled.
It was not a comforting smile.
*
To be continued...
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