The final frame of the anime flickered, a triumphant, if somewhat absurd, battle cry echoing from the cheap speakers of his old laptop. Hunter Zolomone, all nineteen years of him, let out a soft sigh, a mixture of satisfaction and the familiar ache of loneliness. He was sprawled on a worn beanbag chair in his cramped apartment, surrounded by empty instant noodle cups and manga volumes. His life, by all accounts, was unremarkable. He went to a community college he barely cared about, worked a part-time job he hated, and spent most of his waking hours immersed in fictional worlds. His real world felt bland, a muted watercolor compared to the vibrant, explosive palettes of the stories he devoured.
A sudden, sharp pain lanced through his chest, stealing his breath. He clutched at his shirt, gasping, but the air wouldn't come. His vision blurred, the anime characters on his screen swirling into an indistinct mess of colors. A cold dread, unlike anything he'd ever felt, enveloped him. He tried to call out, to move, but his limbs felt heavy, unresponsive. The world tilted, then went black.
So this is it, he thought, a strange sense of resignation washing over him as consciousness slipped away. Dying while watching anime. How… fittingly pathetic.
The next sensation was not cold, nor pain, nor darkness. It was… vastness. An impossible, breathtaking expanse of swirling nebulae, distant galaxies like iridescent dust motes, and the silent, profound hum of creation itself. Hunter found himself standing on a crystalline floor that reflected the cosmic ballet above and below, an infinite mirror of the universe. He wasn't in his apartment anymore. He wasn't even on Earth.
Before him, his back to Hunter, stood a figure. Tall, cloaked in an abyssal black that seemed to absorb all light, yet somehow perfectly defined against the stellar backdrop. The figure was exactly his height, an unnerving detail that made his breath catch. He couldn't discern any features, only the perfect, featureless silhouette of a man.
"Welcome, Hunter Zolomone," a voice resonated, not from the figure's mouth, but seemingly from the very fabric of the cosmos around them. It was deep, calm, and held an undercurrent of ancient power that made the hairs on Hunter's arms stand on end. "Or should I say, welcome back to consciousness."
Hunter blinked, trying to process. "Where… where am I? Who are you?" His voice was a reedy whisper in this cathedral of stars.
The figure slowly turned, and Hunter saw that there were no eyes, no face, just the endless, inky blackness of the cloak. Yet, he felt an intense gaze upon him, as if the universe itself was peering into his soul.
"You are in a place beyond human comprehension, a palace of galaxies. As for who I am," the figure extended a hand, a perfectly sculpted limb that was also pure shadow, gesturing to the swirling cosmos, "you may call me ROB. Ruler of all Beginnings, or perhaps, simply, Random Omnipotent Being. Your choice."
Hunter's mind, still reeling from his sudden death, struggled to keep up. "ROB? Like… like in the fanfics?"
A faint, almost imperceptible tilt of the shadowy head. "Indeed. A rather simplistic designation, but one that resonates with your prior existence. And yes, you are quite dead, Hunter Zolomone. A rather sudden cardiac event. Tragic, yet statistically inevitable for one with your… sedentary lifestyle."
Hunter felt a flush of embarrassment, even in the face of cosmic judgment. "So, what now? Am I in heaven? Hell? Some kind of cosmic waiting room?"
"Neither, and all," ROB rumbled. "Your soul, having departed its mortal coil, is now before me. I observe countless lives, countless universes. Yours, while brief and unremarkable by cosmic standards, held a certain… potential. A spark of yearning for something more, even if only within the confines of fiction."
He looked out at the galaxies again. "I offer you a unique opportunity, Hunter Zolomone. A chance at a new life, in a new world. A fresh start, with certain… advantages."
Hunter's heart, or what felt like his heart, pounded. This was it. The classic setup. "Advantages? Like wishes?"
ROB turned back to him. "Astute. Four wishes, to be precise. And a random world for your reincarnation. I find randomness often yields the most interesting results."
Hunter's mind raced. This was real. He had died, and now he was getting a second chance, a cheat in life. He had spent countless hours imagining this scenario. He knew exactly what he needed.
"Alright," Hunter said, his voice gaining a newfound resolve. "For my first wish: I want the complete knowledge of the worlds of Baki, Kengan Ashura, and Lookism. All the martial arts, techniques, physical capabilities, character backstories, everything. Not just theoretical knowledge, but ingrained understanding, like I've lived and mastered it myself."
ROB gave another subtle nod. "A practical choice. Knowledge is power, especially when applied to the physical domain. Granted."
A surge of information, impossibly vast and detailed, flooded Hunter's mind. He felt every muscle fiber, every nerve ending of the fictional fighters, their techniques, their philosophies. He understood the intricate dance of the Kure Clan, the brutal power of the Hanma bloodline, the perfect forms of Lookism's protagonists. It was overwhelming, yet perfectly integrated, as if he had always known it.
"My second wish," Hunter continued, a grin starting to form on his face, "I want a perfect body. Not just peak human, but specifically the 'perfect body' from Lookism. But with some modifications. I want the skill and natural affinity that makes animals and nature instantly love me, like a true guardian of the wild. And… I want the opposite of the Demon Back from Baki. An 'Angel Back.' Instead of muscles bulging like a demon, I want scars where wings would be, scars that signify immense power and resilience, a testament to overcoming impossible odds. And the angel back should represent a connection to nature, healing, and defense, rather than pure offense."
ROB seemed to ponder this for a moment. "An intriguing combination. A body of aesthetic perfection, imbued with a deep connection to the natural world, and a symbolic manifestation of strength and protection rather than destruction. Very well. Granted."
Hunter felt an ethereal warmth spread through him, a subtle shift in his very being. He instinctively knew that his new body, once manifested, would be a masterpiece, a harmonious blend of grace, power, and an almost divine connection to life. He could almost feel the phantom weight of the scars on his back, a promise of hidden power.
"For my third wish," Hunter said, now feeling a surge of confidence. "I want a weaker version of an immunity body. Specifically, I want to be immune to any and all control attacks, mind attacks, soul attacks, and absorption attacks. I don't want to be completely invulnerable, just unable to be controlled, manipulated, or have my essence stolen or absorbed."
"A wise precaution," ROB remarked. "In many universes, such vulnerabilities are exploited by the most insidious threats. A weaker immunity, ensuring you still feel the impact of an attack but remain autonomous and whole. Granted."
Hunter felt a subtle reinforcement around his consciousness, a mental barrier that hummed with quiet strength. He felt untouchable, not physically, but in the deepest parts of his being. His mind, his will, his very soul, were now his own, inviolable.
"And finally, for my fourth wish," Hunter declared, his final wish solidified. "I want a shop system. A system that grants me system points for completing missions – little chores, dangerous tasks, significant accomplishments. And with these system points, I can buy anything I need from the shop – skills, items, resources, knowledge, anything that can help me in my new life."
ROB's form seemed to shimmer slightly. "A classic meta-ability. A system to guide and reward. Very well. Granted. The parameters of your missions and the contents of your shop will adapt to your needs and the challenges of your chosen world."
With his wishes granted, Hunter felt a profound sense of anticipation. This was it. The ultimate cheat.
"Now, for the world," ROB announced, and two shimmering wheels, each composed of countless stars and galaxies, materialized before them. One wheel was labeled "World Type," the other "Universe/Earth."
"Spin them, Hunter Zolomone," ROB instructed. "Your destiny awaits."
Hunter, with a newfound boldness, reached out and spun the first wheel. It spun rapidly, a blur of cosmic light, then slowly began to decelerate. It landed on… Marvel.
His eyes widened. Marvel? That was a powerful, dangerous, but also incredibly exciting choice.
Then he spun the second wheel. This one spun even faster, a dazzling kaleidoscope. When it finally slowed, it landed on… Earth-11 AU.
Hunter frowned. "Earth-11 AU? What's that?"
ROB's voice held a hint of amusement. "Ah, a rather unique designation. Earth-11 AU is an alternate universe where the dominant gender is female. Where heroes and villains, largely, are gender-bent versions of their Earth-616 counterparts. A world ruled by women, in essence."
Hunter's jaw dropped. Gender-bent Marvel? Spider-Woman, Captain Marvel, Iron Woman, Doctor Strange (Jane Foster?), and all the villains too? And he, Hunter Zolomone, was going into that world, with a perfect body, an angel back, and a system? This was going to be… interesting. And potentially very, very complicated for someone who just wanted peace.
"Well," Hunter managed to say, a nervous laugh escaping him. "That certainly changes things. A world of dominant, powerful women. Guess my 'peaceful life' goal just got a lot harder."
ROB turned back to gaze at the endless galaxies. "Indeed. But perhaps, that is precisely why you were chosen for such a world. To find peace amidst chaos, to carve your own path. Your wishes have prepared you for much. Your new life awaits."
As ROB finished speaking, Hunter's body began to glow, a soft, ethereal light emanating from every pore. The cosmic palace around him seemed to shimmer, the galaxies blurring. The feeling was not painful, but like being stretched thin across time and space. He felt himself dissolving, reforming, a sense of being pulled towards a new reality.
"Good luck, Hunter Zolomone," ROB's voice echoed one last time, a whisper across the void. "May your journey be… eventful."
And then, with a final flash of blinding light, Hunter Zolomone disappeared from the palace of galaxies, ready to be reborn into a world of gender-bent heroes, hidden powers, and the eternal struggle between his desire for peace and the inevitable call to action.