The white around me was almost oppressive—a light without shadows, without nuance, just a void filled with technology. Servers lined the metallic walls, each one processing absurd amounts of data in real time. Holographic screens flickered around me, some projecting code and graphs, others displaying complex simulations. All of it revolved around the center of that room—the Telegenium.
In my hand, a heavy folder, full of documents and reports. My gaze wandered between it and the gigantic sphere before me, my heartbeat slow and controlled. The Telegenium was almost ready. Decades of research, billions in investments, countless calculations refined and rewritten to exhaustion... It was all reaching its peak.
I sighed, running my free hand over my face. The air was sterile, scentless, lifeless. Only the soft hum of the servers filled the silence. I wondered if, in the end, all of this would be worth it. I had dedicated everything to the Telegenium, to the perfection of its construction. Now that it was in its final stages, a discomfort was creeping into the deepest part of my mind.
What would come after?
For years, my life had been the Telegenium. My routine revolved around it. Eating it. Drinking it. Breathing its existence. But now, standing before this decisive moment, an uncomfortable truth crept in: I didn't know what to do next.
On instinct, my gaze rose to the metallic surface of the Telegenium. The sphere reflected the white light around it—brilliant, flawless, without imperfection. Perfect. Just as it was meant to be. Just as I had wanted it to be. But why?
I gripped the folder tighter, feeling the texture of the rigid material against my skin. I should've felt satisfied, fulfilled. That was the goal, right? To build something no one else could ever achieve. To be the one who transcended human limitations and carved his name into history.
But deep down, a small voice insisted.
And then what?
It didn't matter what came after. What followed the completion of the Telegenium was irrelevant.
I held the folder even tighter, letting the paper give slightly under the pressure of my fingers. I knew how this story would end. If the Telegenium worked as it should—and it would—there was no doubt the United States government wouldn't hesitate to eliminate me once they figured out how to use it. It would be foolish to think otherwise. A creation of this magnitude couldn't have its creator freely walking around.
And the worst part? I understood why.
We were predictable, in the end. Humanity had always followed the same logic: eliminate the variables that could threaten hegemony. If the feds wanted to ensure no one could ever recreate something on the level of the Telegenium, the solution was simple: erase from existence the only human being who knew how it worked in its entirety.
Only a childish thought would make me believe I could escape that fate.
I let out a short, harsh sigh. Should I be worried? Outraged? Try to find a way to avoid this fate? For what? So I could keep existing in a world without purpose? I had already achieved everything I wanted. I had already fulfilled my role.
That whole thing about heroism, fighting for something greater, clinging to ideals and hopes... all of that had died within me years ago.
Back then, maybe I would've tried something different. Tried to prevent the Telegenium from falling into the wrong hands. Made a plan to keep my own creation from becoming a tool of control and power. But the old Rodrigo was already dead.
Now, I was a man of science.
And men of science understand that the world is not a fair place.
Men of science don't fight inevitability.
We accept it.
We accept it and move on.
Men of science accept the facts.
They accept evolution, change, the transition from what is considered "human" to something beyond, something new. The cycle of existence is defined by this process. Resisting it is foolishness.
I was living in an era where the boundaries between man and machine were becoming increasingly blurred. Humans had already begun integrating robotic parts into their bodies, using cybernetic implants that enhanced their natural abilities. Artificial eyes existed that could see beyond the human spectrum, mechanical limbs stronger and more agile than any biological muscle. Brain-connected systems that allowed access to information at the speed of thought.
And this was just the beginning.
Human evolution had always fascinated me.
Not just biological evolution—but adaptation. The ability of a creature without fangs, without claws, without toxins, without a protective shell or any natural defense to survive, thrive, and eventually dominate the entire world.
Humans were fragile. Vulnerable. Easy to destroy, individually. And yet, we were the ones who reached the top of the food chain.
And more than that—we stepped beyond it.
The rest of Earth's creatures remained trapped in that eternal cycle of predator and prey, strength and survival. But we broke that barrier. We created tools. Built cities. Bent nature to our will.
We became something no other living being could become.
And now, we were about to change once again.
The fusion between human and machine was inevitable. Transcending flesh, transcending organic limitation, was the next logical step.
Would we be the same after this?
That question didn't matter.
What mattered was the fact that this change was going to happen.
And I wanted to see how far it would go.
I interrupted my train of thought and shifted my attention back to the folder in my hands.
The black synthetic leather was slightly worn at the edges, and the metal clasps firmly held the printed documents. A familiar weight. I opened it, flipping through the pages until I reached the part that interested me.
"Possible side effects of Telegenium activation."
The bold letters jumped off the page, accompanied by a series of graphs, equations, and footnotes. I began reading the analyses from the scientists who had worked on the project. Many of them were predictable—alterations to space-time structure, magnetic instabilities, disturbances at subatomic levels. Nothing that hadn't already been discussed countless times before.
But then, there was this:
"Risk of forming a stable black hole capable of consuming the entire solar system."
I couldn't help but let out a dry, low chuckle.
Ah, that was a good one.
The fact that so many brilliant minds took that possibility seriously was, at the very least, comical.
Of course, technically, it was possible. A particle accelerator of that magnitude, with its unique coupling accelerators, operating at levels never before tested, could theoretically generate a singularity. But the risk of such a phenomenon occurring in a stable enough way to become a real threat was ridiculously low.
Still, alarmists loved their apocalyptic theories.
I could almost imagine the debates among the scientists: some arguing that we were about to commit cosmic suicide, others countering that the risk was negligible. In the end, it was all a matter of perspective.
Progress always frightened those who didn't fully understand it.
I kept flipping through the reports, finding mentions of even more absurd collateral phenomena—dimensional distortions, potential rifts between parallel realities, even speculations about unpredictable effects on human consciousness.
Scientific superstitions.
The only thing that mattered to me was that the Telegenium was in its final phase.
And once it was activated, nothing else would matter.
I closed the folder with a sharp motion, the sound of the leather slapping shut echoing through the silent room. Without hesitation, I tossed the damn report onto one of the nearby computers, where it slid and came to rest atop a terminal keyboard. The pale glow of the screens briefly reflected on its misaligned pages, but I had already shifted my attention elsewhere.
My footsteps echoed against the metallic floor as I walked through the sterile environment, filled with advanced technology. Cables snaked across the ground like roots of a colossal tree, connecting machines whose complexity could only be understood by a handful of minds on the planet. And I was one of them.
I was alone here.
All the other scientists had already left, enjoying the time off they'd been given to rest or spend time with their families. A fair reward, considering they'd dedicated countless hours to this project.
But me?
I was still here.
I had always been here.
The idea of going home had never even crossed my mind. The work, the advancement, the progress—that was all that mattered.
I approached the reinforced door that led to the Telegenium's activation chamber. An optical scanner blinked blue, analyzing my iris before emitting a confirmation beep. The lock disengaged with a metallic click, and the door slid aside, revealing the main chamber.
The heart of the operation.
The room was vast, with a ceiling so high the fluorescent lights barely illuminated the upper corners. In the center, the massive structure of the Telegenium rose like a monolith, covered in glowing circuits and a tangled mass of energy-pulsing cables. Its spherical core was contained within a reinforced glass chamber, metallic tubes feeding it with billions of particles in motion.
I approached the main console, fingertips gliding across the buttons and control screens. Full activation of the Telegenium was still far from authorized, but I could initiate the particle accelerators and observe part of its operation.
A glimpse of the future.
My eyes scanned the commands before I pressed a specific sequence. A deep hum reverberated through the room as the systems came to life, the accelerators powering on one by one. The monitors displayed real-time data, graphs showing particle speeds reaching increasingly absurd levels.
Even incomplete, I wanted to see it in action.
To feel humanity's progress taking shape before me.
To witness with my own eyes that which would define the next step in evolution.
The hum of the particle accelerators intensified, transforming into a low, rising roar that seemed to vibrate in my chest. At first, only the floor beneath my feet trembled slightly, but soon the vibration spread, rippling through the metallic structures and cables on the walls, making them resonate like the strings of a colossal instrument.
The fluorescent lights above began to flicker wildly, casting white flashes across the room, creating unstable shadows that moved like specters on the walls. The monitors showed erratic readings, the graphs swinging wildly as the systems tried to process the absurd amount of energy flowing through the Telegenium.
And then, I saw it.
Right at the center of the structure, inside the reinforced glass chamber that housed the Telegenium's core, something began to form. At first, it looked like nothing more than a spatial distortion—a blur in reality, like heat waves shimmering over asphalt on a scorching day. But as seconds passed, the anomaly expanded, spinning on itself, particles colliding and merging, creating a spectacle of bluish lights and crackling arcs.
And then, the distortion opened.
There was no other way to describe it.
It was like a tear in the very fabric of space-time, a portal with unstable edges, oscillating between blue and purple, pulsing in erratic rhythms. Its interior was nothing but a deep void, a darkness so absolute it seemed to devour the very light around it. The sensors went haywire, alarms blaring in a chaotic symphony of shrill sounds, indicating values far beyond acceptable margins.
This wasn't supposed to be happening.
The calculations, the preliminary tests—none of them indicated the Telegenium could create something like this.
I should shut it down.
I should abort the activation and stop this phenomenon before it spiraled completely out of control.
But instead…
I stood there, staring at that cosmic anomaly, hypnotized.
It was the most beautiful and terrifying thing I had ever seen.
My eyes were fixed on that pulsing vortex, shifting between deep blue and incandescent purple. Every time it changed color, a new pattern of energy would form, as if space itself were folding, trying to rearrange in the presence of something that shouldn't exist. The portal crackled with electric discharges, small sparks escaping its edge and dissipating in the air like stars dying before they could even shine.
My heart pounded. Logic told me I should be worried—maybe even terrified. But what I felt was something else. It was an overwhelming fascination, an irrational need to get closer. It wasn't just scientific curiosity—it was as if something within that portal was calling me, whispering in a language I couldn't understand but that my soul recognized.
My feet started moving on their own.
Each step echoed through the silent laboratory, muffled only by the rising roar of the Telegenium and the alarms still screaming in protest. My body felt warm, as if reacting to the anomaly's presence. I could feel the electricity in the air, raising the hairs on my arms. My heartbeat was racing, my breath slightly uneven, but I didn't hesitate.
I wanted to see.
I needed to see.
When I reached the edge of the observation platform, just a few meters from the portal, I noticed something strange. The air around it was distorted, like shattered glass reflecting a fragmented image of reality. For a moment, I saw my own reflection on the unstable surface of the energy—but it didn't move like I did.
It only watched me.
My heart stopped for a second.
That thing inside the portal… was it me?
No. That didn't make sense. It wasn't possible.
And yet, that shadow reflected in the unstable fragments of the vortex stared at me as if it knew something I didn't. As if it had been waiting for me. As if it wanted me to take one more step.
And I did.
My hand rose, hesitant, but irresistibly drawn to the vortex. The pulsing glow reflected off my skin, casting dancing shadows across the metallic panels of the lab. The electricity in the air was nearly suffocating, as if space itself were holding its breath, waiting for the inevitable moment.
My shadow—or whatever it was that looked like me—mirrored every movement, raising its own hand on the other side of the portal's unstable surface. But something was wrong. Its eyes… they weren't quite mine. There was depth in them, a kind of hidden awareness, something that made me hesitate for just a fraction of a second.
What was that?
A reflection? A distortion caused by the Telegenium? A version of me from another point in reality? Thousands of possibilities flashed through my mind at once, but none of them made sense. I knew I should back away, call someone, record what I was seeing before doing anything reckless.
But something inside me wanted more.
So I touched the vortex.
The very instant my fingers made contact with that vibrating surface of pure energy, an indescribable sensation shot through my body. It wasn't like touching hot metal, or like being electrocuted. It was as if something had recognized me. As if the portal had understood my presence, my identity—and in that moment, decided that I belonged to it.
My shadow touched it too.
And then, everything collapsed.
The portal convulsed violently, and a devastating force yanked me forward with crushing impact. There was no time to react. My feet lost contact with the floor, and my body was swallowed by the cosmic distortion. The pain was immediate—not physical, but something beyond flesh, beyond anything a human should ever experience.
I was falling.
Or being torn apart.
Or both.
The world around me dissolved into a chaotic spiral of impossible colors and patterns. Deep blue, blood-red, radiant gold, shadows so dark they seemed to devour light itself. Visions that weren't mine flashed before my eyes—moments, lives, realities unknown.
I heard voices.
Whispers.
And then… absolute silence.
Everything faded.
Nothingness.
A dense, overwhelming void.
When I regained some measure of consciousness, I realized there was no pain, no cold or heat. Only absence. Not even the weight of my own body seemed to be there. My hands? I couldn't see them. My feet? There was no ground beneath them. I wasn't falling, but I wasn't floating either. It was as if I were suspended in a space that didn't recognize concepts like direction, time, or existence.
The blackness was so absolute it stretched beyond comprehension. It wasn't just darkness—it was the total absence of light, something that swallowed even the very idea of brightness. I tried to move my fingers—or what should've been my fingers—but felt nothing. My body felt like a vague concept, a thought on the brink of forgetting itself.
Was this death?
Did the Telegenium fail and reduce me to a mere fragment of consciousness lost in the abyss?
The thought struck like a cold blade. I should be dead. There was no reason to believe anything existed beyond the vortex, beyond what had pulled me in. But then… why was there still something I could call "me"?
I opened my mouth to speak, but no sound came out.
Or maybe it did, but there was no space for it to travel.
I tried to force my vision, to find some kind of reference point. Nothing. No stars in the sky, no line on the horizon, no distant glow to suggest an end to this formless expanse. If I stayed here too long, would even my mind begin to vanish?
How many seconds had passed? Minutes? Hours? Years?
Transcendence…?
Was that it?
Was this the great evolutionary leap we theorized about? Humanity's next step? If so, it was, at the very least, disappointing. To spend eternity adrift in a formless abyss—without light, without purpose… Was this the final fate of someone who dared to defy the limits of knowledge?
I scoffed—or at least tried to.
If I'd known this was the result, I would've followed the advice of those American bastards and built self-evolving robots en masse. Much more practical.
After all, what was the point of pursuing evolution if, in the end, there wasn't even a universe left to experience it?
But something was wrong.
If I couldn't feel my body, if there was no ground, no air, not even spatial reference… then why could I still think? Why hadn't my consciousness dissolved like it should have?
Something was keeping me here.
And it wasn't by chance.
The absolute silence of the abyss was broken.
A male voice echoed around me, reverberating as if the void itself were speaking. It didn't come from a specific point, didn't seem to have an origin or direction. It was as if the very concept of sound was being distorted, molded to reach my ears without air to carry it.
"Truly impressive."
The tone carried no emotion, no sarcasm, no genuine admiration. It was a pure statement, a simple acknowledgment of fact.
"A common human. No magic, no divine blessings, no demonic interference. And yet, you managed to build something that affected realities beyond your existential bubble."
I couldn't see anything, but I felt the presence of that voice. It wasn't a physical sensation—it was something that imposed itself directly onto my consciousness, as if my mind were being forced to perceive an entity far beyond my understanding.
My brows furrowed by reflex.
Something that affected realities beyond my existential bubble?
The Telegenium.
So, somehow, it worked.
If this entity was here, speaking to me, acknowledging what I had done, it meant that the technology I created—with all its risks and flaws—had broken past the limits of our comprehension.
But if that's what happened… then where exactly was I now?
The silence was broken again by the voice.
"I really did choose the right human for my wager."
The tone remained the same—neutral, emotionless—but its words carried a weight that made me narrow my eyes.
Wager?
My mind raced, analyzing every word spoken so far. This being—whatever it was—claimed I was a common human, that I had affected realities, and now said it had chosen me?
That meant this entity had been watching me for a long time. Maybe since the beginning of the project. Maybe even before that.
My jaw clenched slightly. I was never a big fan of the idea of fate or higher powers playing with human lives like chess pieces. But if this voice was telling the truth, then I'd been on the board long before I ever realized it.
My mind, always grounded in logic and rationality, wanted to reject it. But the facts were right in front of me: — I built the Telegenium. — It did something that transcended my own reality. — And now a cosmic entity claimed it had chosen me for something.
I took a deep breath—or tried to. I couldn't feel my chest rise and fall. There was no air here.
I narrowed my eyes at the nothingness in front of me.
"What wager?"
My own voice sounded strange in that absolute void. As if the environment absorbed it before it could even echo.
The response came without hesitation.
"A wager on who would save humanity."
Humanity? Save?
A bitter taste formed in my mouth.
Salvation.
The word spun in my mind like an irritating echo.
Save humanity? Become a symbol of hope? Form a group, a collective, unite with others for the sake of some greater good?
The mere thought made me nauseous.
It was funny how people romanticized that concept so much. The ideal of sacrificing yourself for something greater, of becoming part of a collective and giving up your own individuality for the "common good." A repugnant concept. Losing who you are, your desires, your principles, your essence… all to fit into a greater machine, a social mechanism that moves forward without caring if you're just a disposable screw.
Sure, biologically, it made sense. Human cooperation is what brought us to this point in evolution. Packs became tribes, tribes became nations, and eventually entire civilizations rose on the principle of unity.
But that was necessary in the past. Now? Now it was a different game.
In the era we lived in, the world belonged to those strong enough to stand on their own. The illusion of collectivity was a crutch for the weak—for those who feared their own inability to survive without depending on others. People loved to say they lived for a greater ideal, for their friends, for their family, for their country. But deep down, everyone clung to whatever brought them some kind of benefit.
This whole hero thing...
Ah yes. The concept of a hero.
So romanticized, so exalted, so praised as the pinnacle of human morality. But in truth, what was a hero if not a selfish person in disguise?
Heroes wanted to save others because it made them feel good. It validated their existence. A hero acts because they have a need to reaffirm to themselves that they matter. It wasn't altruism—it was the pursuit of a personal purpose, masked as kindness.
And in the end, every human relationship was exactly that. Exchange and self-interest.
It could be physical, material, emotional, or even immaterial—but there was always a reason, a hidden motivation.
A mother doesn't care for her child purely out of love. She does it because she wants to see them grow, because she wants to feel proud of them, because she wants to validate herself as a good mother.
A man doesn't marry solely for passion. He seeks companionship, stability, descendants, a partner to fill a specific space in his life.
Even friendships, as pure as they may seem, are based on exchanges of affection, support, and compatibility. No one bonds with another without a reason.
And now this entity expected me, of all people, to accept this ridiculous role of savior? To embrace this cause and lose myself in some empty ideal?
Idiots.
In the end, what happens to those who aren't selfish?
What happens to the naïve, the ones who believe in absolute goodness, who dedicate their lives to helping others without expecting anything in return?
They are used.
Exploited.
Drained until nothing is left but an empty shell.
And then, when they're no longer useful, they're discarded like broken cogs in a machine that never cared about them in the first place.
Humanity idolized altruists, martyrs, saints who sacrificed themselves for a greater good—but the truth was, those people were just tools.
Useful tools, until the moment they stopped working.
Rodrigo knew very well how this game worked.
He had played it.
He had been on the other side—he had believed, he had fought, he had bled in the name of something greater. And in the end? In the end, he saw with his own eyes the fate of fools who believed in heroism.
There was no glory. No recognition.
There was only exhaustion.
He'd been part of that shit before. He saw the rot from the inside. He saw how the gears of society crushed those who dared to try and make a difference.
Being a hero didn't mean changing the world.
It meant being a fool who served as an example until they were no longer useful.
And the most irritating part?
People didn't want to be saved.
They complained about corruption, injustice, violence, inequality—but when the opportunity for change arose, how many were truly willing to change themselves?
Most wanted a magical solution. They wanted the world to improve without making sacrifices, without giving up their own comforts.
Hypocrites.
The Rodrigo who believed in justice died a long time ago.
The Rodrigo who wanted to change the world was buried along with the childish illusions he once held.
What remained was just a man who understood how things really worked.
And he had no interest in becoming a disposable piece in this dirty game again.
I let out a long sigh, feeling the void around me consume every sound, every trace of presence I could perceive.
"Save humanity?" — my voice echoed through the emptiness. I laughed, but without humor. — "That's a stupid concept."
The word "save" carries a weight that makes no sense. What does it even mean? To keep humanity alive a little longer? To postpone the inevitable?
"Humanity's survival is only a matter of time, a race against entropy." My expression remained neutral, even though I had no idea if that being before me could even see my face. "It could be a hundred years, a thousand, a million... in the end, it doesn't matter. The universe has billions, maybe trillions of years of existence. At some point, everything we know will cease to exist. Civilizations will rise and fall. Stars will go out. Even the gods who believe themselves immortal will be reduced to dust."
My tone was cold, calculated.
"If you want a savior, you picked the wrong person."
I'm no hero.
I'm no martyr.
I'm just someone who understands that nothing lasts forever.
And in the end, all this struggle to 'save' is just a disguised way of procrastinating the inevitable.
The void around me remained silent for a moment, as if pondering my words. Then the voice reverberated again, carrying a tone of absolute certainty.
"You have no choice."
My expression remained unchanged. I was already expecting something like that. Free will is always an illusion when you're dealing with entities beyond human understanding.
"But you don't need to be a hero." — the voice continued, its tone neutral, emotionless, as if merely stating an inevitable fact. — "You just need to ensure humanity doesn't go extinct."
I chuckled quietly.
— "Ah, of course. So I'm supposed to prolong humanity's existence without a purpose? How noble." My voice dripped with sarcasm, but deep down… I knew it didn't matter. The decision had already been made.
— "You can see it however you wish." The entity showed no sign of irritation or patience. It simply continued. — "I will grant you the tools necessary to make it possible."
I raised an eyebrow.
— "Tools?"
— "Powers, knowledge, capabilities..." The voice echoed around me, as if each word were carving reality itself. — "Everything required to fulfill this mission."
I crossed my arms, considering.
— "So basically, you're telling me there's no alternative. I'm getting thrown into this shit whether I like it or not."
— "Correct."
I sighed, closing my eyes for a moment. I'd been in no-win situations before. I'd been shoved into battles I didn't want to fight. I knew how that usually ended.
And now? Did I really have any other option?
The answer was obvious.
If it was inevitable, then I needed information. I couldn't just accept being thrown into who-knows-where without an idea of what to expect.
I crossed my arms and took a deep breath, organizing my thoughts.
— "Alright... If I'm getting dragged into this hero bullshit, I at least want to know what I'm walking into."
Silence lingered for a moment before the entity answered.
— "You will be sent to a Singularity. A point in history where humanity's destruction was triggered and became a fixed event."
My eyes narrowed.
— "Singularity...? Fixed history... So, something that was supposed to happen, but got altered somehow?"
— "Exactly. And your mission is to prevent that event from becoming irreversible."
I rolled my eyes.
— "Of course. There always has to be an extra complication."
Now that I at least knew the nature of the problem, the most important question came up.
— "And what kind of tools are we talking about here? If I'm dealing with something like that, I'm not expecting you to throw me in with a slingshot and a stick."
The entity remained silent for a few seconds.
— "You will be able to choose between special abilities that enhance your natural talents or unique powers. Your body will be rebuilt to adapt to the new environment and to carry the abilities you select."
That caught my attention. So I'd get a new body and could customize it in some way? That made things... interesting.
— "Alright. Before I choose, I want more details about the world I'm going to. No point picking something useless for the context."
— "You will be sent to a universe where magic is a dominant force, and the most powerful warriors are called Servants—heroic spirits materialized through a specific system."
I raised an eyebrow.
— "Heroic spirits? Like historical and mythological figures?"
— "Exactly."
I crossed my arms, absorbing the information. If the enemies were legendary spirits manifesting as warriors, then ordinary skills wouldn't cut it. I'd need something that would at least put me on a functional level within that reality.
I took a deep breath and cracked my neck.
— "Alright... now that I know the basics, let's talk choices. What kind of options do you have for me?"
The entity answered directly, without hesitation:
— "That depends entirely on you. You may request any ability or power, as long as it does not involve omnipotence."
I frowned.
— "Wait a second... anything?"
— "Anything within that limit."
Something didn't sit right. Nothing in this kind of situation was ever free. I wasn't naïve enough to believe this entity would just hand me ridiculous powers without some kind of catch. So where was the damn fine print in this contract?
I crossed my arms, feeling a growing discomfort.
— "Alright… So what's the price? Don't give me that 'there isn't one' crap."
The entity was silent for a moment before responding.
— "The price has already been paid."
That caught me off guard.
— "What?"
— "You crossed the line when you activated the Telegen. Your former existence has already been undone. There is no going back. The cost was your old life, and now you can only move forward."
My mouth opened for a moment, then closed again.
So that was it? I was screwed either way?
Part of me wanted to argue, to find some loophole, some way to expose how absurd this situation was... But deep down, I knew there was no way out. What's done is done. The Telegen brought me here, and now I was just another piece on this cosmic game board.
I let out a sigh, closing my eyes for a moment.
— "So that's how it's going to be..."
When I opened them again, my gaze was steadier.
— "Very well. If I can choose anything... then let's begin."
I crossed my arms and stared into the emptiness around me. If I truly had the freedom to choose abilities, I needed to understand the rules of this game better before making any rash decisions.
— "Before I decide anything, I have a few questions." My voice came out firm, without hesitation. — "How many abilities can I have? Is there a limit?"
The entity responded without delay, its voice echoing as if coming from every direction at once:
— "You may request as many as you wish. However, the more you choose, the weaker they will be at first. Additionally, your lack of experience will be an obstacle. You'll have to learn to use them on your own."
That made sense. If I went around asking for a whole arsenal of powers without a plan, I'd end up with nerfed versions and no mastery to make them useful. Better to focus on something specific and powerful than spread myself thin and end up with a pile of useless skills at the start.
— "Alright. Second question: am I alone in this mission, or are there others like me?"
This time, there was a slight pause before the answer came, as if the entity were considering.
— "There are two others like you. In total, three were chosen for this mission. You will have to support one another to prevent humanity's extinction."
My gaze narrowed.
— "'Will have to support'... So it's not optional?"
— "No. You are linked. If one of you dies, all of you die. And not only that—your existences will be completely erased. As if you had never existed."
My body tensed for a moment. So that's how this shit worked? A collective burden? If one of the three of us made a fatal mistake, everyone would pay the price?
I took a deep breath, trying to process that information. It meant I needed to at least know who I was dealing with. If the other two were incompetent or suicidal, my life was already doomed before it even began.
— "Got it... One last question: can I request specific abilities from existing characters? Like Spider-Man's powers, something from Shin Megami Tensei, or even absurd stuff like Azathoth's abilities?"
The entity made a sound that was somewhere between a chuckle and a sigh.
— "Yes, but with limitations. If you ask for abilities from existing characters, they'll be adapted to the world you're being sent to. If they're incompatible with the laws of that reality, they'll be adjusted or weakened."
— "And if I ask for something completely absurd, like Azathoth's powers?"
— "You wouldn't even be able to withstand them. Your soul and mind would be destroyed instantly. It would be a suicidal wish."
I raised an eyebrow.
— "Alright... And what if I asked for something like Shin Megami Tensei's Lucifer as a companion?"
— "That is possible. But he would be extremely weakened at first, reduced to a fraction of his original power. You would need to strengthen him over time."
I crossed my arms again, thinking.
— "Interesting... So I could start with a powerful ally, but I'd have to work to restore his full strength..."
That gave me a strategic edge. A weakened Lucifer was still better than being alone. But it also meant I'd need to find ways to power him up, and that would likely take time and effort.
I closed my eyes for a moment, organizing my thoughts.
— "Alright. Now that I know the rules, let's get to my choices."
I crossed my arms, looking at the absolute void around me. I'd need to pick my abilities carefully, considering not just the environment I was going into, but also the two other poor bastards thrown into this shitshow with me.
I didn't know who they were, what their mindset was, or if they were even remotely competent. But one thing was certain: I'd have to keep an eye on them. The entity said that if one of us died, we all died. That meant, aside from worrying about my own survival, I'd now have to make sure two complete strangers didn't screw up and drag us all to our deaths.
I sighed, running a hand down my face.
— "I don't have kids, but apparently now I have to be a babysitter at thirty-two. What a joke..."
But alright. I had already accepted that I didn't have a choice. Now, I needed to decide what kind of abilities made sense for me.
The idea of choosing Lucifer as an ally sounded good at first, but thinking about it more... no.
As powerful as he was, I definitely wouldn't be able to handle someone like him. The concept of Lucifer in Shin Megami Tensei wasn't just a generic devil—it was a cosmic entity ruled by ideologies I honestly didn't want to deal with. Especially in a weakened state, which meant he'd be more of a burden than a real asset at the start.
And besides... he was a deity.
I'd already had my fill of gods, demons, and cosmic entities in my life. Working with one inevitably meant dealing with some messed-up ideology, an ulterior agenda, or at the very least, an unbearable personality.
No, I needed something more pragmatic. Something useful right from the start, that gave me an immediate edge, but could also grow over time.
But what?
I crossed my arms, furrowing my brow as I started to weigh my options. If I was getting thrown into a world full of Heroic Spirits, absurd mages, gods, and all kinds of insanely powerful abominations, then I needed… what did the nerds call it again? A build? Yeah, I needed to build something that would let me survive.
Picking a random power and hoping for the best wouldn't cut it. I had to think synergy. What complemented what? Which abilities would be useful right away and still scale well over time?
I could choose abilities from practically any media—comics, manga, games, books… as long as they weren't ridiculously broken from the start. That meant I could mix things.
Maybe something like Spider-Man's powers for mobility and heightened senses? No, wait… as useful as they were, they wouldn't help against Servants. Even if I had Spider-Sense, it probably wouldn't react fast enough against enemies of that level.
What else? Something that gave me regeneration? Magic? Defense?
I needed a skill set that covered multiple areas—offense, defense, durability, mobility. If I only grabbed one thing, I'd be vulnerable in too many ways. But if I picked abilities that complemented each other...
I closed my eyes for a moment, starting to form a plan.
If I was going into this world, then I had to be prepared for anything.
As I analyzed my options, I started sketching out a strategy. If I was really being tossed into a world full of gods, Heroic Spirits, and absurdly powerful entities, then I needed—what was the word again?—to build my survivability. The idea of depending on the other two chosen ones already bothered me. I didn't even have kids, and now, at thirty-two, I had to babysit two total strangers? What the hell.
But fine. If that was the situation, I had to make a smart choice. I needed a combination of abilities that wouldn't just make me strong, but would also ensure my safety from betrayal or unexpected surprises. If I had to rely on those two, I should at least be in a position to keep them under watch. And that's when the idea hit me.
A ridiculous combination.
Crazy enough to work.
Understanding (Megami Tensei). The ability that defines humanity in the SMT universe. Something that would allow me to comprehend—and harm—even beings that theoretically can't be harmed. The power to challenge concepts, to defy creators. If I was about to face threats of that caliber, then this was essential. Nothing would be impossible if I was determined enough.
Susano'o Unit (BlazBlue). An armor that would eliminate limitations like fatigue and stamina, allowing me to fight without worrying about exhaustion. But that wasn't all. This unit cut the concept of time. The ability to manipulate one of the most fundamental aspects of reality couldn't be ignored. On top of that, it would offer me insane protection against external threats.
Interfectum Malus: Ookami (BlazBlue). A sword capable of nullifying magic and concepts. If I was going to be dealing with mages and divine entities, then a weapon like this was absolutely necessary. And the best part? When used with the Susano'o Unit, this weapon could cut time—and maybe even other fundamental laws of reality.
Nahobino (Shin Megami Tensei V). The fusion between a human and a divine entity. A race that, by nature, shouldn't even exist. The Nahobino has a ridiculously high rate of evolution and adaptation, becoming stronger with each battle. Proof? The protagonist of SMT V faced Lucifer—and won. If I wanted a power that guaranteed constant growth, this was essential.
And finally…
King in Black (Marvel). This might seem a bit out of place compared to the other abilities, but it made perfect sense. The power to control symbiotes, to spread them across the world, and to create a collective mind under my command. This would give me something no other chosen one would have: information and constant surveillance. I could plant symbiotes in the shadows, in corpses, in defeated enemies—turning everything into part of my army. While the other two acted, I could observe them without even being present. I would know their every move.
The synergy was insane.
The Susano'o Unit would ensure I never got tired and would protect me like a walking fortress. Understanding would give me the means to confront any kind of entity, no matter how absurd. The power of the Nahobino would let me grow endlessly, evolving with every battle. Interfectum Malus: Ookami would ensure that any magic or concept thrown at me could be slashed and denied. And finally, King in Black would give me an army, eyes everywhere, and the ability to be in a thousand places at once.
I didn't trust the other two chosen ones.
But with this combination, I wouldn't need to. I just had to be stronger than any of them.
And I would be.
I took a deep breath. It still felt absurd that I could just ask for these abilities and get them. No matter how "weakened" they might be at the start, the sheer possibility of having them was already ridiculous. But if this being was really giving me that freedom, then I wasn't going to waste it.
— "Alright then, here are my wishes."
My voice echoed into the void, swallowed by the darkness around me.
— "I want Understanding from Megami Tensei. The ability to challenge concepts, to strike and wound that which cannot be wounded."
No reply.
— "I want the Susano'o Unit from BlazBlue. The removal of fatigue, absolute endurance, and the ability to cut the concept of time."
Still nothing.
— "I want the sword Interfectum Malus: Ookami, to nullify magic and concepts."
No interruption. That was starting to make me uneasy.
— "I want the body and abilities of a Nahobino. Accelerated evolution, fusion of human and god, continuous growth in battle."
Still no response.
— "And finally... I want the power of the King in Black. Symbiotes, a hive mind, control over my own network of spies and soldiers—living or dead."
Silence.
I waited, expecting a laugh, a taunt, a warning. Nothing came.
— "...Well?" I asked, arms crossed. "You gonna tell me one of these things is impossible?"
The voice echoed back, calm and eerily serene.
— "Nothing you asked for is impossible."
I frowned. That was... way too easy.
— "But," the voice continued, "there are limitations, as I already told you. All abilities will start off extremely weakened. You will not be an invincible god right away. Furthermore..."
The darkness around me seemed to compress.
— "If you die, the other two will die with you. And if any one of the three dies, you all die. And not just die... your existences will be completely erased."
That bullshit made me freeze for a second.
— "You mean..."
— "That if one of you is eliminated, no one will ever remember you existed. No soul, no fragment of consciousness, no record in history. Not even I will be able to bring you back."
That little detail hadn't been mentioned before.
— "That wasn't in the contract," I muttered with a bitter smile.
— "You never asked to see the contract."
Touché.
The bastard had a point.
I let out a sigh and ran a hand over my face. I had expected some kind of catch in all this, but that punishment was cruel as hell. It meant I couldn't just ditch the other two and go solo. If one of them died, I'd go down with them. Shit.
— "So that's it? I get the abilities, but they start weak, and I die if one of the others dies?"
— "Yes."
— "And what happens if we manage to prevent the destruction of humanity?"
The voice went silent for a moment.
— "That will be discussed when the time comes."
Of course.
I scoffed. There wasn't much left to discuss. If those were the rules of the game, then I just had to do what I always did: stay in control of the situation.
— "Alright." I stretched a bit, rolling my shoulders. "So, when do we start?"
The voice echoed again, as calm as ever:
— "Is that all you wish for?"
I narrowed my eyes.
— "Why the question? Expecting me to ask for something else?"
— "I'm simply making sure there are no regrets."
Was he trying to test me or something? I sighed, bringing a hand to my chin as I thought. I had already crafted a solid "build." Each ability complemented the others, forming a set with near limitless potential. But…
— "Wait." I crossed my arms. "Can I know what the other two wished for?"
The silence that followed was brief, but heavy.
— "No."
I frowned.
— "If I'm being forced to work with these two, wouldn't it be logical to know what they asked for? That way, I could adjust my own wishes to better balance things out."
— "Their wishes are none of your concern."
That response irritated me.
— "So you can throw me into a suicide mission with two complete strangers, but you won't tell me if they asked for anything remotely useful?"
— "Their wishes have already been made and granted. Besides, I wasn't the one who granted them."
That made me pause for a second.
— "What do you mean?"
— "Exactly what I said. The other two received their powers from different entities."
My eyebrows rose.
— "Ah… So that's it. This is some kind of goddamn game, isn't it?"
The voice fell silent.
— "Each of us three got a sponsor, and you're all betting to see who manages to save humanity first. Am I right?"
No direct response, but the silence was answer enough.
— "Hah." I laughed quietly, shaking my head. "Of course it is. It all makes sense now."
If that was the case, then not only did I have to worry about the hellscape I was about to be thrown into, but also about these two strangers—who could very well be manipulated by entities with their own agendas.
Perfect.
— "Alright." I clapped my hands. "Since you've already screwed over my sense of security anyway, is there nothing else I can ask for to make things easier?"
— "You've already made your choice."
— "I know. But it doesn't hurt to ask."
The voice didn't respond.
I let out a long sigh, massaging my temples. This was going to be hell.
The voice echoed again, this time with a tone that almost sounded... bored?
— "Is there anything else you want? A change of body, perhaps? Or something more generic, like a harem?"
I paused for a moment and stared into the surrounding void.
— "A harem?" My expression twisted into a mix of disbelief and disdain. "Do you really think I'd ask for something like that?"
— "Hmph. I can't actually imagine you asking for it. But it doesn't hurt to offer."
I rolled my eyes.
— "I'm not some hormone-driven teenager living out a power fantasy. Did you seriously mistake me for the protagonist of some trashy light novel?"
The voice remained silent for a few seconds before continuing.
— "I'm simply making sure you'll have no regrets."
I sighed, crossing my arms.
— "Change of body, huh? I'd need something compatible with the powers I asked for… The Nahobino is already a superior being, so I guess that gives me an optimized body."
I ran a hand along my chin, thinking.
— "Although... if I'm going into a world full of heroic spirits and gods, maybe I should ensure I'm not just an enhanced meat sack. Something that can handle conceptual forces and resist the absurd crap they throw around."
My gaze narrowed as I weighed the possibilities. If I asked for something like absolute immortality or broken regeneration, the entity might limit it somehow. But if I rephrased the request more subtly...
— "How about a body that can constantly adapt to the threats I face? Something that lets me evolve and become more resistant based on what I experience."
The voice stayed silent for a moment before responding.
— "Acceptable."
A small smile formed at the corner of my lips.
— "Heh. Good to know."
— "Anything else?"
I closed my eyes for a moment, organizing my thoughts. I already had everything I needed. Anything beyond this would just be fluff or a waste.
— "No. This is enough."
The voice stayed silent for a long moment before finally replying:
— "Very well. So be it."
The void around me began to vibrate, as if space itself were being distorted. The voice, now deeper and more imposing, echoed inside my mind.
— "Now it's time for you to begin saving humanity."
I let out a long sigh, keeping a neutral expression.
— "Here we go again..."
The voice ignored my comment and continued:
— "I will make some modifications to the body you'll be using. After all, you want evolution, adaptation, and power. I can't throw you into this chaos without the proper tools."
My expression stayed serious, but in my mind, I was already analyzing the implications. What exactly did he mean by "modifications"?
— "Don't worry. Nothing that goes against your essence," the voice said, as if reading my thoughts. "Just optimizations to ensure you can withstand the burden of your new powers."
I crossed my arms, my tone laced with skepticism.
— "And what exactly are these 'optimizations'?"
— "Your body will be rebuilt from scratch, becoming the perfect foundation for everything you've chosen. You'll be able to use your potential to the fullest, without the biological limitations of an ordinary human."
The idea wasn't bad. If I really wanted a chance in this game, I needed something that could handle all the crap I just asked for.
— "Consider this a second chance," the voice continued. "A new beginning. Not just to save humanity, but for you to overcome your own traumas... To become the best version of yourself."
My eyes narrowed, and a laugh escaped my lips.
— "Heh… Do you seriously think I'm the kind of person who believes in that 'best version of yourself' nonsense?"
The voice stayed silent for a moment before answering:
— "It doesn't matter whether you believe it or not. Time will tell."
And before I could reply, everything around me exploded into light.
The light completely engulfed me, and for a moment, my mind seemed to float in nothingness. There was no sound, no sensation… just an endless white void.
And as I remained trapped in that transition, a thought began to take shape in my mind.
This whole thing...
Doesn't this feel like one of those cheap-ass light novels?
Seriously. What the hell just happened to me?
An ordinary human gets dragged into some cosmic scheme, granted absurd powers, and now has the mission to save humanity? Isn't that, like, the most generic premise ever for those "power fantasy" stories where the protagonist is just a soulless self-insert for anyone trying to escape reality?
The kind of story written for a bunch of bored people who want to imagine themselves as all-powerful beings, but without the psychological depth to deal with the consequences?
And to think that my grand creation — the Telegenio, the pinnacle of my research, the result of years of work, a scientific leap meant to change humanity — led me to this crap.
This… is seriously messed up.
I had so many expectations for the Telegenio. A technological revolution. Scientific breakthroughs that would redefine humanity. Maybe even a new era for knowledge and existence itself.
But no. Instead, I got thrown into this overused isekai plot, where some superior being decides I'm now a pawn in their cosmic game.
I let out a long, deep sigh.
If only I had been transported to a future where humanity had already transcended...
But no, instead I'm about to drop into a world where heroic spirits, gods, and cosmic abominations roam freely, just waiting to tear me apart.
Truly, what a goddamn miserable situation.