It wasn't the truck's fault, really.
It was just doing its job—barreling down a quiet city street on a green light, minding its own massive, twenty-ton business. No, the blame rested squarely on the man currently flying through the air like an angry bird, no wings and too much confidence.
He had three defining traits in life: an unshakable belief in his own invincibility, a deep-seated hatred of authority, and the inability to back down from a challenge—no matter how suicidal.
So when a suit-wearing thug with a bad attitude and worse insults shoved an old man in the middle of the crosswalk, our protagonist did what anyone with a hero complex and unresolved rage issues would do.
He stepped in. With a fist. Several, actually.
The thug went down.
So did two of his friends.
And as for the third one? Well, he screamed something about calling backup, and our self-declared savior screamed something louder about how backup better bring a tank.
That was when the truck showed up.
When you're in a brawl at the middle of a crosswalk most people would've dodged.
He didn't.
Somewhere between the honk and the high-speed impact, a single thought crossed his mind—not fear, not regret. Just: "I'm gonna punch this truck."
He did not.
Then, nothing.
No pain. No light at the end of the tunnel. No infernal gates or angelic choirs. Just a faint humming, like the universe trying to remember what came next.
And then—a voice.
"You know," it said, silk wrapped in mischief, "I usually don't reward stupidity. But yours was… inspiring."
He blinked. Or thought he did. It was hard to tell without a body.
"Where am I?" he asked the void.
"A crossroads," the voice replied. "Let's call it your second chance. You get to be reborn. A new life, a new world, any form you want."
A pause. He didn't need long.
"Then make me the most powerful being alive."
Another pause. Longer this time.
"…As you wish," the voice said. And this time, it smiled.
He woke to birdsong.
A cool breeze brushed against him. Grass tickled his… something. Arms? No, those weren't arms. Too short. Too soft. Too fuzzy.
His eyes fluttered open, taking in a vibrant world—rolling hills, endless blue sky, a distant forest that whispered secrets to the wind.
He stood—or tried to.
Wobbled.
Fell.
Groaning, he dragged himself toward a nearby river, if only to see what kind of glorious war-beast he'd become. A demon lord? An ancient dragon? Maybe something new. Something terrifying. Something worthy of the power he demanded.
He reached the bank, leaned over, and saw…
Fur.
Big, round eyes.
Stubby limbs.
Ears like the wings of a sleepy bat.
A face so disarmingly cute, it could disarm actual armies.
A puffball.
A literal sentient puffball.
The river rippled with his reflection.
Then came the scream—high-pitched, furious, and echoing for miles.
Not even the trees were prepared.
"wait... My voice. WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED TO MY VOICE?"
Furiously seething, he threw his arms—if one could call those marshmallowy nubs "arms"—into the air and began shadowboxing the horizon.
"YOU FUCKING, SMUG-FACED, OVERGROWN LAMP FAIRY!" he roared, or tried to. The words came out in the high-pitched, squeaky chirp of an overexcited toddler. "I SAID POWERFUL, NOT PRECIOUS!"
He leapt.
He missed.
The world trembled. Not from fear, but from suppressed laughter.
Bounding back to his feet—more of a bounce than a stand—he resumed his tantrum. Each tiny hop punctuated with an air-punch, each air-punch followed by a barrage of profanity that would've made sailors weep if it didn't sound like it came from a squeaky toy.
He stomped in place. He punched a daisy. The daisy remained unbothered.
But then—he felt it.
The rustle.
The slow, deliberate crunch of grass.
The heavy breath of something that did not fear adorable balls of vengeance.
He turned his head. Slowly.
Behind him, two massive beasts stepped out of the trees. One resembled a wolf with too many teeth. The other looked like a bear that had eaten another bear and kept the second one's soul for later.
Both locked eyes on him with the unmistakable glint of a meaty snack on legs. Small, fluffy, conveniently bite-sized.
He blinked.
Gulped.
And ran.
"GODDESS, SWEET MERCIFUL LIGHT, I TAKE IT BACK!" he screamed, bouncing off a root and tumbling forward. "YOU'RE BEAUTIFUL! DIVINE! RADIANT! I ONLY MEANT, LIKE, HALF OF IT! NO—A QUARTER! A QUARTER OF HALF!"
Stubby legs worked at maximum effort, making soft pomf pomf pomf sounds as he fled in zigzags, somehow managing to look both frantic and heartbreakingly huggable.
"PLEASE, O FLOURESCENT MOTHER OF WORLDS, DELIVER ME FROM THESE VERY HUNGRY DOG-BEAR THINGS! I'M TOO CUTE TO DIE! I'M—" he glanced back, screamed higher than previously thought physically possible, "—I'M A CLOUD WITH DREAMS!"
Somewhere, the Goddess was watching.
Laughing.
And probably taking notes.
The two beasts closed in. The wolf-bear hybrid, jaws agape, growled low and deep, clearly considering his fluff a delicacy. The other one—larger, angrier, with claws that looked like they could scratch the paint off a mountain—sniffed the air, tail swishing with delight.
His heart nearly stopped in his tiny, marshmallow chest.
"HOW THE HECK AM I SUPPOSED TO FIGHT THAT?!" he shrieked internally, but then his voice, high-pitched and borderline hysterical, echoed back to him, "I CAN'T THROW A PUNCH! I HAVE BARELY WHAT YOU CALL ELBOWS!" He flailed again, all stubby limbs and tiny, pathetic air punches. "I'M THE SIZE OF A BASKETBALL! HOW THE HECK AM I SUPPOSED TO FACE OFF AGAINST—"
And then, right as the monstrous beasts bared their teeth for the kill, a cool, calm voice rang inside his mind. The voice of the Goddess. Unfazed. Detached.
"You don't actually need my help. You can take them just fine."
He screeched to a halt mid-panic, his foot catching in a particularly angry tuft of grass. He stumbled, landing in a very ungraceful heap—like a marshmallow trying to jump rope, failing spectacularly.
"WHAT?!" he shrieked internally, his voice a pure pitch of disbelief, "TAKE THEM?! HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO 'TAKE' A GIANT WOLF-BEAR MONSTER WITH THE COMBAT SKILLS OF A SPONGE? I CAN'T FIGHT!" He scrambled to his feet, spinning in a circle like a possessed duster trying to avoid dusting itself.
"I CAN BARELY MOVE, FOR THE LOVE OF WHATEVER GODS ARE OUT THERE! I DON'T HAVE ARMS THAT WORK, I'VE GOT A TINY BODY—DO YOU WANT ME TO ROLL INTO THEM?"
He pivoted, pointing a finger—well, more like a stubby paw—toward the pair of beasts, still slowly stalking toward him. He flared out his little ears and puffed out his chest in a failed attempt at intimidation.
"THAT'S NOT FAIR, YOU KNOW! GIVE ME SOME KIND OF, I DON'T KNOW, SUPER-POWERED THUNDERBOLT OR SOMETHING!"
The Goddess' voice came again, cool as ever.
"You don't need all that. You're already more powerful than they are."
"NO!" he snapped, voice rising to a squeak again. "I'M NOT! LOOK AT ME! I'M NOT EVEN AS THREATENING. I'M FLUFFY, I'M FUZZY, I'M BASICALLY A DUSTER WITH A TANTRUM! I CAN'T FIGHT THESE MONSTERS, I'LL BE LUNCH!"
The wolf-bear duo was getting closer, their eyes glowing with the unmistakable hunger of creatures that had probably eaten better in their day, but were willing to make do with what was on the menu now.
The Goddess' tone was unamused, but there was a touch of exasperation in her voice this time.
"Just trust me. You can take them. You're stronger than you think. Besides, the power you wanted doesn't always look like what you expect it to."
He had one choice.
Run or... run?
With another scream of rage and fear, he pivoted on the spot, only now realizing that turning in the other direction made him realize something crucial:
He was still running away.
And then, the Goddess' voice. Calm. Unbothered.
"Bounce."
His head whipped around in disbelief.
"WHAT?!" he screamed internally, his voice screeching in a panicked whimper. "THIS ISN'T THE TIME FOR JOKES! I'M ABOUT TO BE LUNCH, NOT A BASKETBALL!"
The Goddess remained as serene as ever, her voice practically dripping with amusement.
"Bounce off a wall. Launch yourself toward them."
"WHAT? IM NOT TRYING SCORE A THREE POINTER ONTO THE BEAST'S MOUTH!" he squealed, eyes wide with disbelief.
The wolf-bear hybrid's jaws snapped shut, inches from his fluffy body. His instinct kicked in.
"Bounce."
And for the first time, something inside him clicked—probably from pure panic—but he turned toward the large rock wall nearby. His stubby legs scrambled to the base of the wall, and with a reckless, half-hearted attempt to follow her instructions, he threw himself at it.
The impact was immediate.
He bounced.
And not just a little bounce. No, this was the bounce—powered by pure, unfiltered terror.
He shot off the rock wall, not like some fluffy pinball, but more like a missile. The air around him hummed as he rocketed toward the two beasts at breakneck speed. He was a tiny, high-speed projectile—a cotton ball in a hurricane, heading straight for them.
He couldn't even register what was happening. All he knew was that he was moving way faster than any fluffy creature should. His entire body was now a blur of white fur and wide, terrified eyes as he zipped toward the wolf-bear hybrid.
The beasts didn't know what hit them.
The wolf-bear, now unable to comprehend the incoming furry missile, had just enough time to look up, and then—
BOOM!
There was a collision that sounded like an explosion, a blur of fur and mass colliding at impossible speed. The wolf-bear let out a surprised yelp as the impact sent it flying backward, its massive body tumbling through the air with comical inelegance. It slammed into a tree with a crack that sounded far too satisfying.
The bear, its thick hide less susceptible to surprise, barely had time to react as the fluffy, out-of-control blur barreled straight into it. There was a sickening squelch—nothing fatal, but definitely very, very uncomfortable—as the bear was sent stumbling back, its claws catching the air.
The world was spinning. He had no idea where he was, what had just happened, or how on earth he'd just launched himself at Mach speed.
But he wasn't finished.
He had landed with a thud, somehow managing to bounce off the bear's side, flipping through the air like a freakishly agile hairball on a caffeine high.
The Goddess, somehow omnipresent and unfazed, spoke again, as if it were no big deal.
"Well done. See? I told you it would work."
He landed, still spinning, his little legs splayed out in all directions as he hit the ground with a soft plop. His body was now in one giant puff of fluffy chaos, a bundle of nerves and fur.
Still alive.
Still very much terrified.
The two beasts, now looking extremely confused and slightly dazed, stumbled to their feet, their initial hunger replaced with... a healthy amount of fear.
And at that moment, it hit him.
He had taken them down. Without realizing it, without any control over the madness he'd unleashed, he had somehow sent them both flying with a single, unintended bounce.
The Goddess, now clearly amused, spoke once more, her voice a playful lilt.
"You should have more faith in yourself."