"Dammit, why did they have to release the newest copy of 'Dragon Soul' and even premiere 'Demon King Downfall' on the same day? Both happened a week before finals, and then they dropped the full remake of the 'Magical Girl Empire' series, which I just had to watch." A young man groaned while rubbing at his temples.
"Well, you should've studied instead of being sucked into your little fantasy world. Priorities exist for a reason Chris. Finals are more important than some shows and a manga." His roommate Kyle said from across the room.
Chris rolled his eyes, though the motion made the pounding in his head worse.
"So says you, brainiac. Not all of us can ace everything while barely trying! And don't act like you weren't right there watching the premiere with me. You were the one who sent me the link about it and them bragged about having tickets to its premier." Chris shot back. "Besides, it wasn't even worth the hype. The way the hero won? Total garbage. If I were in that world, I—"
His vision blurred further now as darkness crept along the edges.
He blinked slowly, shaking his head to try and clear it but the blurring grew worse.
"Chris?" he faintly heard Kyle ask.
"Yeah, yeah. I'm fine." He half slurred well trying to stand only to find his head resting on the ground.
He faintly noticed how the walls seemed to stretch and the darkness creep further across his vision. His heartbeat felt uneven and a coldness seemed to be settling over him.
'Great. I'm actually dying because I procrastinated to much.' He thought to himself, Kyle's voice now a faint echo, he couldn't make out anything he was saying anymore. 'At least its not the worst way to go. Probably. why couldn't it be truck-kun though? or saving someone! At least that would be a good way to go...' Where his last thoughts before the blackness took over the rest of his vision, having crept in rapidly from the edges as the coldness took a tighter hold across him, it wasn't painful. Just… empty, quickly followed by absolute nothingness.
No thoughts. No sounds. No panic.
Just a strange floating sensation and an annoying awareness that this was taking longer than it should have.
Light flooded his vision a moment later, taking him by surprise well stinging his eyes.
Chris groaned as he pushed himself off what felt like solid ground and looked around only to find a bright white room.
"Oh? Dying well saving someone? By one of those large metal beasts? Yes, that definitely would've been far better a way to go, far less embarrassing than death by burnout, or knocking your head after collapsing well trying to standing up," an old but amused voice rang out carrying hints of laughter causing Chris to freeze.
Standing a few steps away was a man who looked like he'd lived through several civilizations and complained about every action they took.
A long white beard, poorly maintained but deliberately kept at a certain length, hung down his chest. Wrinkles covered his face in layers and his eyes were small, sharp and far more aware than they had any right to be, carrying hints of amusement and something that sent a chill down his spine. Chris found his gaze wondering from his eyes to his head that was bald enough to reflect light. The old man in front of him seemed to lean slightly on a walking stick that was clearly taller than him even if he stood straight.
the problem though was with the rest of the old man, well his face and head was that of a clearly aged old man his body was built like a mountain with muscles pressed tightly against a fitted suit, tightly strained against his sheer bulk. His gaze wondered to his walking stick, if he was being honest it was more decorative than necessary with various markings layered across it.
"Yes, I am quite impressive, aren't I?" the old man said, stroking his beard well puffing up with pride at Chris's gaze. "You should've seen me in my prime, though. I had millions of followers, and thanks to that, I could lift continents without breaking a sweat. Ah, the good old days." He said wistfully with a dangerous glint in his eye.
All Chris could do was stare as he tried to process not only the old man's words but the situation as a whole.
"…You're a god." he finally managed to say.
"Yep." He said Well, popping the P and grinning widely.
"And I really am dead?"
"Went out like a Bi—" "And you pulled my soul here?" Chris continued, cutting him off and getting a rather annoyed and slightly angry look for it.
"Yes, with quite a bit of effort since I, admittedly, have very little influence over the world these days." The god's smile didn't reach his eyes as he answered with a small eye roll; he was clearly enjoying this far too much.
Chris knew he should have panicked or even freaked out. Throw around demands to go back, maybe even vehemently deny the way he died but instead he felt excitement wash over him.
This was it. He'd read enough manga to know the pattern even if Truck-Kun wasn't involved in his passing.
"So what kind of hero do you need me to be?" He asked excitedly. "A sword saint? A powerful archmage? Maybe you need some kind of secret chosen one who will pull the strings from the shadows!" Chris asked, already picturing himself in each role along with many others.
The god's smile turned almost mockingly at that, taunting with a dangerous edge. "Oh? Why would you assume you're meant to be a hero when you died just by standing? Do you even think you'd be good enough to be one?"
Chris blinked in confusion; this wasn't how things usually went.
"Wait. If you didn't pull me to be a hero, then what do you need from me? Must I save an empire? Stopping a demon lord? Get reborn with a secret royal bloodline and overthrow my evil father leading to me ruling the world?" He asked, trying to hold onto hope that there would still be something good waiting for him.
The god chuckled before devolving into full-blown laughter before answering. "What part of 'little influence' did you not understand! The other gods have already chosen their champions and brought them over. Heroes. Saints. Grand mages. Even demon generals and nobles have all been chosen! They filled all the flashy roles since there more 'important' and 'powerful' than i am." he answered, visibly upset towards the end that caused Chris to flinch.
"Then why am I here? To try and help you regain influence?" Chris asked. The words practically slipped past his lips with clear confusion.
The god tilted his head, clearly considering it before leaning forward. "Mostly for my own amusement and to know what it's like to toss someone into the thick of things." He eventually said.
That answer came too easily. it felt far to practiced.
"I've watched them choose their pieces." He continued with notes of disdain. "How they place them carefully to have the most impact and even nudge events to go how they want over the many, many years. It looked… enjoyable. So, I figured I might try it myself and see what it's like."
Chris narrowed his eyes slightly, already having an idea as to the answer to his following question but asking anyway. "But you just said the main roles are all filled, so what was it you wanted to try? What role could you even give me?"
The god smiled wider but didn't answer directly.
"No idea! I just told you i wanted to give it a shot for myself. Roll the dice and see where they land as it where, just do what you like when you get there but make sure it's entertaining."
There was that word again. Entertaining.
It made Chris feel like he had just been signed up for something without reading the fine print.
"Alright," Chris said slowly. "Then I'll need some strong abilities. Mastery of magic. Swordsmanship. A huge mana pool. Maybe some broken skill. Like an evolving system? That will make sure I can leave my mark and keep things entertaining for you."
The god simply stared at him clearly not amused, his face entirely blank.
"…You're not even negotiating but instead flat out demanding?"
"No, all I'm doing is... suggesting things you can give me to ensure your entertained." Chris corrected.
The god's expression shifted at that, the blank look turning into something far darker with clear hints of annoyance and anger.
"Do you truly believe I'm gullible just because I'm old?"
Chris didn't like how quickly his tone changed; it caused his skin to prickle and made him realize he screwed up.
"Let me make this… memorable then," the god said, raising his walking stick slightly with a malevolent smile that sent chills down his spine. "Good luck, Chris Strider. You will most certainly need it."
Before he could try to say anything, to play his words off as a joke or even apologize, the walking stick came down and everything around him shattered into a mix of black and white shards.