Ren liked mornings for one simple reason: nothing demanded anything from him yet.
The sky above the small rented room was pale, undecided between night and day, as if even the sun was still negotiating whether it was worth showing up. Ren lay on his thin bed, one arm covering his eyes, breathing slowly. The world was quiet. No alarms. No voices. No destiny knocking at the door.
Perfect.
He did not dream of greatness. He never had. As a child, when others talked about becoming heroes, kings, or saviors of something important, Ren had wondered why anyone would willingly sign up for trouble. Life, to him, was a matter of balance. Eat well. Sleep enough. Avoid unnecessary pain. If possible, avoid people who talked too much about fate.
That philosophy had kept him alive, unnoticed, and mostly content for twenty-three years.
Ren opened his eyes and stared at the cracked ceiling. A spider web clung to one corner, unmoving. He made a mental note to clean it later, then immediately decided that "later" could mean tomorrow. Or next week.
He sat up slowly, hair messy, face unremarkable. If someone saw him on the street, they would forget him seconds later. That was intentional, though even Ren himself did not consciously know why he preferred it that way. Attention felt heavy. Dangerous.
He swung his legs off the bed and stood, stretching lazily.
That was when the world froze.
Not dramatically. There was no explosion of light, no thunder, no voice proclaiming ancient authority. The air simply… stopped. Dust motes hung motionless. The faint sound of the city outside—distant carts, footsteps, wind—vanished as if muted by an unseen hand.
Ren blinked.
"…Did I finally over-sleep into some kind of hallucination?"
Before he could finish the thought, something appeared in front of him.
It was not a screen, nor was it light. It was more like a concept occupying space, something his eyes understood without truly seeing.
[Omni-Causal Daily Sign-In System Initialized]
Ren stared.
Silence stretched.
"…Yeah, no," he said flatly. "I'm going back to bed."
He turned, took one step, and walked directly through the message. It rippled slightly, like water disturbed by a stone, but did not disappear.
Another line appeared.
[Host detected: Existence-compatible]
[Synchronization complete]
Ren sighed. "This is why I don't skip breakfast. Low blood sugar."
He rubbed his face, then looked around. The room was still frozen. Even his own breath felt delayed, like the world was politely waiting for something to finish.
"Alright," he muttered. "Let's assume I'm not crazy. Worst case, I wake up. Best case, this is… whatever this is."
The message shifted again.
[Daily Sign-In available]
[Would you like to sign in?]
There was no pressure in the question. No urgency. No warning. It felt strangely neutral, almost bored.
Ren considered it the way one considers whether to press a strange button in an empty room. He did not feel excitement. He felt mild annoyance.
"If I say no, will you go away?"
No response.
"…Figures."
He lifted a hand and tapped the air lazily.
"Yes. Sign in."
The moment his finger passed through the invisible boundary, something fundamental aligned.
Ren did not feel power entering his body. There was no surge, no warmth, no rush. Instead, it felt as if the universe had quietly adjusted a setting it had forgotten to apply.
[Sign-In successful]
[Reward granted: Null Presence Mask (Passive)]
Ren frowned. "That's it?"
Another line appeared, almost as an afterthought.
[Note: Reward automatically integrated]
The world resumed.
Sound returned all at once. Wind brushed the window. Somewhere outside, a vendor shouted. Dust fell to the floor.
Ren stood there, unmoved.
"…Okay," he said after a moment. "That was anticlimactic."
He waited for something else to happen. Nothing did.
No instructions. No quest. No sudden realization of godlike power.
Just… normal.
Ren scratched his head. "So what, I get a popup every morning now? That's the big cosmic event?"
There was no answer.
After a while, Ren shrugged, went to wash his face, and prepared a simple breakfast. If this was a dream, it was a persistent one. If it wasn't, panicking would not help. Either way, life went on.
He ate quietly, sitting near the window, watching people pass below. As always, no one looked up. No one noticed him.
Good.
Yet, somewhere deep—far deeper than thought—something had shifted.
Not in Ren.
In reality.
The system did not grant Ren power in the conventional sense. It did not increase his strength, speed, or intelligence. It did not rewrite his body.
It rewrote his priority.
Ren finished eating and stood, stretching again. For a brief moment, as sunlight touched his face, the air bent imperceptibly. The light hesitated, as if unsure how to reflect off him, then continued normally.
Ren did not notice.
He grabbed his coat and left the room.
The street was crowded. Merchants argued. Children ran. Cultivators, warriors, and ordinary people shared the same road, all chasing their own concerns. This world was not peaceful, but it was familiar. Ren blended into it easily.
Too easily.
A passing woman glanced at him, then frowned slightly, as if she had just forgotten something important. A cultivator with sharp senses walked past and felt an inexplicable emptiness, like missing a step on a staircase.
No one stopped.
No one stared.
The Null Presence Mask was working exactly as intended.
Ren spent the morning doing nothing particularly important. He wandered. He bought cheap tea. He avoided loud places. Around noon, he felt an odd tug, subtle but persistent, like a thought that was not his own.
It led him to a narrow alley he had never noticed before.
Ren paused at the entrance. The alley was clean, quiet, and empty—unnaturally so. The noise of the street faded as if swallowed.
"This feels like the start of trouble," he said calmly.
He should have turned around.
Instead, he sighed and walked in.
Halfway down the alley, space folded.
There was no distortion visible to the eye. The world simply… rearranged itself. One step forward became a step elsewhere.
Ren found himself standing in front of a small shop.
The sign was plain wood, slightly crooked.
"Somewhere Shop"
The building itself looked modest. Too modest. Like something that existed because no one had bothered to say it shouldn't.
Ren stared.
"…I don't remember renting this."
The door was unlocked.
Inside, the shop was empty. Shelves lined the walls, clean but bare. A counter stood near the back. There was no dust, no smell of age. It felt unused, yet complete.
Ren walked in slowly.
The moment he crossed the threshold, another message appeared.
[Primary Facility unlocked: Omniversal Convenience Store]
[Ownership confirmed]
Ren closed his eyes.
"…Of course."
He leaned against the counter and exhaled. "Let me guess. This is also permanent."
No response.
He opened his eyes and looked around again. The place was quiet. Peaceful.
Annoyingly… comfortable.
A thought surfaced, uninvited but clear: If you stay here, no one will bother you.
Ren frowned. He disliked being manipulated, even gently.
But he could not deny the feeling.
This place did not demand anything from him.
He stepped behind the counter, resting his arms on it.
"Alright," he said softly. "Rules."
Silence.
"No heroes. No saving the world. No dramatic nonsense."
Nothing contradicted him.
Ren nodded. "Good."
He glanced at the empty shelves. "And no customers today. I'm not in the mood."
The shelves remained empty.
Ren blinked.
"…Huh."
He straightened slightly. "That was a joke."
Still nothing.
He laughed quietly, more out of disbelief than humor. "You're telling me this thing listens?"
The system did not answer.
But somewhere beyond time, causality adjusted again.
Ren did not know it yet, but the moment he stepped into that shop, his life had settled into a path that could not be reversed. Not because he was trapped.
But because, for the first time, the universe had found someone who would not abuse its secrets.
And the universe, tired beyond comprehension, decided to rest around him.
Ren looked out through the shop's front window.
The alley was gone.
In its place was a quiet street he had never seen before.
"…This is going to be a hassle," he muttered.
Yet despite his words, he stayed.
Unaware that from this quiet, ordinary choice, countless worlds would one day converge—not to challenge him, not to worship him, but simply to knock on the door of a small shop that appeared wherever reality needed a pause.
And Ren, lazy as he was, would answer.
Eventually.