The moment the firewood vanished, the village square turned into a live-action screenshot of collective panic and awe.
One second: thirty-odd villagers gripping farm tools like they might actually use them.
The next: half of them on their knees, the other half backing up so fast a few tripped over chickens.
The elder—whose name I still didn't know—stared at the empty spot where the logs had been. His mouth opened and closed like a fish that just realized it was on land.
I cleared my throat.
"So… about that lunch offer?"
Silence.
Then the elder dropped to one knee. Not gracefully. His staff clattered again.
"O Great Vanisher," he croaked, "we—we meant no disrespect. Please, accept our humble hospitality. The finest meal our village can provide is yours."
I blinked.
"Vanisher? That's what we're going with?"
Elara, still standing beside me, shot the elder a look that said *don't make it worse*. Then she turned to me, voice low.
"They are afraid. And grateful. The knights you… removed… were from Blackspire Keep. Lord Varn's men. They've been bleeding this village dry for months. Tribute. Conscription. Beatings if the quotas weren't met."
I glanced at the crowd. A few faces were crying now—quiet, relieved crying. Not terror. Relief.
One older woman near the front clutched a shawl to her chest and whispered loud enough for me to hear: "The boy in the strange garment… he freed my grandson."
The kid—wait, Tiro?—peeked out again and pointed at me.
"He made the bad men go away!"
Murmurs spread like wildfire in dry harmattan grass.
"Hero from the stars…"
"Sent by the old gods…"
"Maybe the prophecy of the Unmaker…"
I pinched the bridge of my nose.
"Great. Now I'm in a prophecy. This is how every bad fanfic starts."
The blue box flickered in.
```
[Village-Wide Reputation Update]
Status: Revered (Fear + Gratitude Mix)
Local Title Gained: [Vanisher of Tyrants]
Passive Effect: +20% persuasion chance with villagers | -40% chance of random hostility
Bonus: Free lodging & meals for 7 days (extendable)
```
I almost laughed out loud.
"Bro, you're literally gamifying gratitude now? That's cold."
The box vanished without comment.
The elder rose shakily, gesturing toward the largest building in the square—a long, low-roofed hall with smoke rising from multiple chimneys.
"Please, honored… Kai. Come. Eat. Rest. We will prepare a feast in your name."
I looked at Elara. She gave a tiny nod, the kind that said *take the free food before they change their minds*.
"Alright," I said. "But no weird rituals. No blood pacts. No 'drink from the sacred cup' nonsense. Just rice—or whatever your version of rice is—and maybe some meat. And water. Clean water. I'm not trying to get fantasy dysentery on day one."
A ripple of nervous laughter from the crowd.
They parted like the Red Sea as I walked through.
Inside the hall it smelled like woodsmoke, fresh bread, and something savory that made my stomach roar loud enough to echo.
Long tables. Benches. A fire pit in the center. Women and girls already rushing around with clay pots and wooden platters.
They set a place for me at the head table—literally the head. The elder sat to my right, Elara to my left, Seline and Tiro across from me.
A massive bowl of stew landed in front of me first. Thick chunks of what I hoped was goat or venison, root vegetables, herbs I didn't recognize. Next came flatbreads—warm, soft, still steaming. Then a pitcher of water that looked suspiciously clear.
I tore off a piece of bread, dipped it in the stew, and took a bite.
Flavor exploded.
Spicy. Savory. A little sweet from the vegetables. Better than anything I'd eaten in Lagos the last six months.
I groaned in pure, shameless pleasure.
"This is unfair," I mumbled through a full mouth. "You people are trying to bribe me with food. It's working."
The elder smiled for the first time—tentative, hopeful.
"We have little else to offer one such as you."
I swallowed.
"Listen. I'm not here to be worshipped. Or feared. Or whatever. I just want to figure out what the hell is going on, eat, sleep, and maybe not accidentally delete the moon tonight."
A few gasps at the word "moon."
Elara leaned in. "You can… delete the moon?"
I waved a hand. "Theoretically? Yeah. Haven't tried. Probably shouldn't. Tides would go crazy. Fishermen would hate me."
More wide eyes.
The elder cleared his throat. "If I may ask… what *are* you? Truly?"
I sighed, wiped my mouth with the back of my hand.
"Short version: I'm from another world. Got pulled here. Got given a broken tool by whatever runs this place's rules. The tool lets me erase things. Permanently. No take-backs."
I tapped my temple where the red button still floated in my vision, invisible to them.
"Think of it like… admin access. But the admin is drunk and forgot to set permissions."
Blank stares.
"Right. Bad analogy."
I tried again.
"I can make things cease to exist. People. Objects. Ideas, maybe. I don't fully understand the limits yet. And I don't really want to test them on anything important."
The elder nodded slowly.
"Then you are more dangerous than any demon lord in the old tales."
"Yeah," I said. "But also more lazy. So as long as nobody pisses me off, we're good."
A beat of silence.
Then Tiro piped up, eyes shining.
"Can you delete my chores?"
Seline smacked his head lightly. "Tiro!"
I laughed—real laugh this time.
"Maybe later, kid. Let's survive lunch first."
The meal continued. People kept bringing food. I kept eating. The crowd outside slowly dispersed, though a few lingered at the doors, peeking in like I was a zoo exhibit.
Halfway through my third helping, the blue box appeared again—this time with red warning borders.
```
[Critical Alert: Reality Ripple Expanding]
Deletion events logged: 13 entities + 1 inanimate mass
Local causality strain: 4.2%
Administrative scan initiated. Estimated arrival: 41 hours (decreasing)
Anomaly detected in nearby ley-line nexus.
Recommendation: Investigate or delete the source of interference.
Optional Side-Quest: [Trace the Ripple] – Reward: Insight into System limitations
[Y/N]
```
I stared at it while chewing.
"Great. Now the universe is giving me homework."
I mentally selected [N].
Not today, Satan—or whatever runs the admin panel.
But the box didn't vanish immediately. It pulsed once, then added:
```
Passive notification enabled: Ripple alerts will continue until resolved.
You cannot delete the notifications. (Tried already.)
```
I choked on a piece of bread.
Elara patted my back.
"Are you well?"
"Yeah," I wheezed. "Just… the voices in my head are being extra today."
She didn't question it.
Smart woman.
As the meal wound down, the elder leaned forward again.
"Honored Kai. If you are truly as powerful as you seem… there is something we would ask. Not as payment—but as a plea."
I raised an eyebrow. "Go on."
"Three days' ride north lies Blackspire Keep. Lord Varn has taken our young men for his endless wars. Our daughters for his court. Our grain for his feasts. If the knights you removed were his… he will send more. Many more."
I looked around the hall. Tired faces. Hopeful faces. Faces that had just seen impossible things and were daring to believe the impossible might help them.
I sighed.
"Look. I'm not a hero. I'm barely a functional adult. But… I also really hate bullies."
I leaned back.
"And I've got nothing better to do until the admin shows up to yell at me."
The elder's eyes lit up.
"Then you will help us?"
I shrugged.
"Let's say I'll *consider* deleting the problem. But first—"
I pointed at the empty stew bowl.
"Seconds. And maybe a bed. And directions to the nearest bathroom that isn't a hole in the ground."
Laughter—genuine this time—rippled through the hall.
Elara smiled. Small. Cautious. But real.
"You are strange, Kai Voss."
"Yeah," I said, grabbing another piece of flatbread. "But strange is working out pretty well so far."
Outside, the sun was dipping lower.
Somewhere north, a keep full of armored assholes had no idea their next tribute run was about to meet the laziest glitch in reality.
And I had leftovers coming.
Life—or whatever this was—was looking up.