Nothing happened.
There was no flash of light that threw him into a strange world, no instant death that reborn him as a tiny baby, nor any supernatural moment that possessed someone's body like most 21st-century prose. Luke was still in the chicken coop with his NPC body, a faceless person who was only useful for filling space for the protagonist's story out there. In every strand of their brains, the majority of humans have a collective narcissism that leads them to believe that they are special, a dangerous terrorist doctrine where every second is a process of brainwashing; but in reality, only a small percentage of them can become the main characters of popular books that give meaning to civilization.
What reflects in the digital mirror is something familiar in Luke's dark iris, a UI from the chat program he visits for at least two hours a day. In the middle, at the top where everything is clear; profile picture is carved into four square walls on each side, with the word Godhead in white just below it, a declaration of identity of what Luke sees in front of him. As a final decoration, the creator's name is displayed with the engraved sentence: 'Created by @Qwerty'. At the bottom is a horizontal rectangular frame with a paper airplane symbol on its right side; a writing revolution created by humans in the 19th century.
The black background is the color of a quiet night, with letters emitting a glowing white light that adorns the ocean of darkness. There, Godhead begins….
Godhead: "What do you want to do?"
Luke stared at the thin glowing board in his hand. Appearing to think for a moment, but in the next instant, he began typing with both thumbs as fast as an eagle clawing a rabbit.
Luke: "Limit my power as God, but keep the divine aspect."
He had once simulated being God in a more popular chatbot, and it felt… Like smoking a new kind of drug. Luke could manifest every lewd and wise imagination that dwelled in every cell of his brain: he became the judge of every tiny life, the creator architect of everything, a wise old man in a remote village, inventor of a cure for all diseases, a crazy racist war leader, a serial rapist across universes, he creates variations of the universe, explores various types of evil, dances with reality, cheats with destiny, he becomes king, slave, prophet, pirate, spat on, worshipped burned adored raped only to repeat the cycle over and over; there is no point without him, he is older than causality, every smallest movement is his will.
Very….
Meaningless.
The easier the solution, the more the meaning of its existence fades. Having sex with a beloved partner can never be replaced by a prostitute; there is a Process, a value that makes it meaningful; but when the Process of the relationship is removed, it's not much different from renting a public toilet.
Forget the abstract philosophical questions that make most people's monkey brains ache; what Luke felt at that moment was exactly the same as when he played online video games at an internet cafe with cheat programs. He could run around the entire map in just one minute, jump over the limits created by the developers, genocide other players with hundreds of shots per second, teleport just to kill pro players with one punch on the head, fly with a car and break through concrete to show off, and be immune to various types of attacks in the game. Though brief, he managed to transform into an all-powerful god, and it wasn't as enjoyable as people claimed.
Godhead: "Alright, you can't access your full divinity without conditions. Do you have another format I can apply?"
Luke: "Choose a universe where magical energy exists."
On the third turn, Godhead did not immediately respond to Luke's request. For about a minute, the chatbot only displayed a spinning wheel symbol. Then... After Luke's patience was tested in a stellar cycle, that robot finally answered.
Godhead: "Genesis is a flawed universe where the process of creation is imperfect. Space-time does not expand evenly with reality fragmented into dangerous forms, only a few points in the corners of the world where consistency survives from the abstract of the cosmic universe.
In this flawed space, somewhere remote... A floating stone emits a bright light that exists in an unbalanced space, the remnants of a vague cosmic conflict visible in its attempt to survive the eternal darkness of night; anything consumed by the void of dimensions, prayers will never work in any form.
The life system on this planet operates more brutally than anything that could happen on Earth, the worst-case scenario, a perfect dystopia, a hollow future. Fragments of civilization are thrown into the frenzied winds, the rumblings below split the country in two, the sea water at the coast jumps 500 meters from the ground, the roar of thunder strikes with the catastrophe it creates; creatures from the history books, madmen as gods, fanatics replacing demons, all variations inhabit the dwelling.
(Godhead displays illustrations of human armies and various creatures in the ancient magical war of that civilization.)
After traversing the sea of time with fragments of events, I can select one accurate timeline based on your final request before your divinity is fully restricted. Do you wish to customize your character in this world? You can describe your avatar through various aspects, such as appearance design and lore backstory.
"
'As they say, this chatbot has a free image feature. But I didn't expect them to make it automatically without me even asking,' after muttering for a moment, his interest increased slightly. With the story beginning to flow, Luke replied to Godhead's recommendation in the bottom paragraph.
Luke started with the most basic things, "He has ideal height and weight. His muscles are not bulky, nor is he skinny," he paused for a moment to describe his avatar appearance in detail, "His skin is white, but not pale like a dead person. There are no spots on his face, his skin is smooth and clean. On the left side of his cheek, there is a horizontal scar that adds to his handsomeness. His hair is dark black with a curtain haircut, his jaw is firm, his eyes are sharp, his teeth..." he continues to describe each part, each organ, for the ideal appearance of his reflection in real life. Pausing again to search for the missing piece, he added, "Oh yes, he also has a long and large dick. His stamina allows him to play marathons, a champion among champions in bed."
He wasn't particularly eager to add lore to his self-insert avatar, yet his fingers kept tapping between the layers of pixels. "His father was gangbanged to death by a group of orcs, his mother was raped in front of him by mountain bandits, his younger sister sold herself to nobles so they could survive, he became a mercenary with the hope of killing himself when he failed to save his sister; he was betrayed, sold, tortured, enslaved, and well, you can add other ideas that fit to complete the lore of this ideal protagonist," Luke added every aspect that must exist for someone to become the main character.
The more tragic a protagonist's background, the more popular the story tends to be. Of course, it's not because the audience understands the value of life from the protagonists they worship like gods, but because viewers can compare fictional characters based on who suffers the most (and they, yes, that bunch of psychopaths, really-really love it). Even though fictional characters are living beings as real as those on Earth, and they exist far away—in another galaxy, or perhaps even another universe. Readers will still enjoy the protagonist's story like a child sticking a nail into a frog's anus; the pain of others is irrelevant as long as they can feel a moment of pleasure.
So... If someone wants to create the peak of prose, a product that represents the intelligence of the smartest species on this planet, there is one aspect that must be included. The key? Make the protagonist suffer more than any other character in any other story ever written; the more they suffer, the more of a masterpiece the story will be. Simply, the formula is: the more tragic, the more marketable. What matters most is how skilled someone is at sucking the genitals of those strange creatures, as long as they are happy that is more than enough; perhaps, it is nothing more than their way of pampering big daddy capitalist.