(A/N: All kinds of suggestions, opinions, ideas, etc will be deeply appreciated)
*****
There was no ground beneath him, no sky above, no horizon to orient himself against, and no sense of distance by which he could measure how far anything might be.
It was not darkness, not in the way night blanketed a landscape, and not light, not in the way dawn slowly filled a room. It was something far more abstract, an absence of all familiar reference, a place where even the idea of "place" seemed inadequate.
Time did not pass here, or perhaps it did and simply refused to be noticed.
There was no ticking, no flow, no rhythm to anchor the mind.
Only an endless, suffocating nothingness that pressed in from all sides like invisible weights, silent yet heavy, making every emerging thought feel like a shout into an infinite abyss.
And yet, within that boundless, incomprehensible expanse, something stirred.
At first, it was nothing more than a faint ripple, an almost imperceptible disturbance in the stillness, like the first tremor before a thought fully formed.
Awareness did not return all at once.
It seeped back slowly, unevenly, like water finding its way into cracks in dry stone.
There was no body to awaken, no breath to draw in sharply with a ragged gasp, no eyelids to flutter open against phantom light.
Only the gradual reassembly of a consciousness that had, moments, or eternities, ago ceased to be.
'…Huh…?'
The thought was weak, incomplete, as if it did not yet know how to exist.
It echoed strangely inside his mind — Huh… huh… huh… — fading into the vast hollow before vanishing.
More followed, fragments, scattered and disconnected, rose from somewhere deep within that forming awareness.
A dimly lit room illuminated by a screen that never seemed to turn off, its blue glow casting harsh shadows on empty instant noodle cups and crumpled tissues.
The faint, constant hum of electronics, the creak of an old gaming chair protesting under the weight of a body that had surrendered to sloth.
The posture of someone who had spent far too many hours slouched in the same spot, shoulders rounded, neck craned forward.
Endless scrolling, endless watching, endless consumption of stories that blurred together into a single, comfortable haze.
A life that had never quite been remarkable, but had been sufficiently entertaining to pass the time, scrolling forums, fapping to harem animations, dreaming of worlds where he was the one who mattered.
Then… a sharp intrusion.
A memory that cut through the others with brutal clarity.
SCREEEEEEECH—
The horn was deafening. Metal screaming against asphalt.
BOOM!
Blinding white light.
The sickening crunch of impact, glass shattering like brittle ice, the world flipping end over end in a whirlwind of pain and screeching tires.
A force so sudden and overwhelming that it erased everything else in its wake.
"…Ah."
Understanding snapped into place.
"I… died."
There was no tremor of fear in that realization, no frantic denial or desperate grasp for a different explanation.
It was unsettling how calmly it settled into him, as though he had simply remembered an appointment he had forgotten about.
And then, just as quickly, something else followed.
Taking in his situation, a connection formed in his mind, followed by a clear pattern. And soon, a conclusion that assembled itself so rapidly it felt inevitable.
"…Wait."
The faint sluggishness that had clung to his awareness vanished in an instant, replaced by a surge of clarity so sharp it almost felt exhilarating.
"I died… and I'm in this kind of place… which means…"
A grin, wide, eager, unrestrained, spread across his non-existent face, a reaction so instinctive it did not require a body to express.
It stretched wider, almost manic, vibrating through the void.
"…this is that situation, right?"
Excitement rose within him, sudden and overwhelming, filling the void where fear might have been. His thoughts raced, one feeding into the next like a wildfire.
"No way… no way this is actually happening…"
"I got hit by a truck, yeah, that tracks, that's literally how these things go, so that means…"
The grin widened, stretching into something feral.
"—I'm getting reincarnated!!"
If there had been air, his voice would have echoed with wild laughter — HA HA HA HA — bouncing endlessly.
If there had been a body, it would have trembled with energy, fists pumping.
Instead, his entire awareness vibrated with anticipation, filling the endless expanse with the sheer force of his greed.
"This is insane… this is actually insane…"
The absence around him did not respond.
But something else did.
At first, it was subtle, so subtle that it could have been mistaken for imagination.
A shift in perception. A quiet, undeniable pressure against his awareness that had not been there before, or perhaps had always been there, simply unnoticed until now.
It did not appear in any visible form.
There was no shape, no outline, no figure emerging from the void.
It was not something that could be seen or heard or touched in any conventional way. Instead, it existed as a certainty, a presence that asserted itself without needing to announce its existence.
It was vast, and unfathomable.
So far beyond him that comparison itself felt meaningless, like an ant trying to comprehend the mountain it crawled upon.
The presence waited. Silent, patient, and utterly unhurried.
"…Oh."
He paused for the briefest of moments, then his grin returned, undiminished.
"…yeah, okay. That's gotta be the god or whatever, right? The big cosmic vending machine for isekai tickets."
No awe touched his tone. No reverence. No instinctive urge to bow or submit.
Just shameless enthusiasm, as though confirming a long-held expectation from cheap web novels.
"Alright," he continued without hesitation, leaning into the moment as if this were a casual conversation rather than an encounter with the incomprehensible, "let's not waste time. I know how this goes. Skip the cryptic mentor shit. Give me the options."
The presence stirred.
Not in anger, not in amusement, those concepts seemed too small, too mortal for it.
It simply responded, a wave of neutral information flowing directly into his mind like cool, clear water.
No judgment, and no reaction to his bluster.
His disrespect rolled off it like rain on ancient stone; it was beneath concern, irrelevant to something that had witnessed the birth and death of universes.
Soon, two choices unfolded with perfect clarity.
The first: reincarnation into a random world, beginning from birth, accompanied by a system that would guide and assist his growth. It was structured and safe. A built-in advantage, but no control over where or what circumstances awaited.
The second: transmigration into a specific world of his own choosing. But there will be no system, and no external support. He would not reincarnate, rather possess someone. His consciousness would overwrite that of an existing individual.
'There is risk,' the presence conveyed, a subtle weight behind the words, like a distant thunder rumble. 'Resistance may occur.'
He barely registered the warning.
"…Oh."
For a fleeting moment, it seemed as though he might actually think this through.
Then—
"HAHAHAHAHAHA!"
Laughter burst from him, loud and unrestrained, completely devoid of hesitation or doubt. It echoed wildly in his mind, ugly and triumphant.
"A system? A random world? Who the hell would pick that?! Like some scared little noob grinding tutorials? That's pathetic!"
His thoughts had already locked onto something else entirely.
The second option which told about going to a specific world. He had a familiar world in mind. A world he knew inside and out from years of obsessive reading and re-reading.
"Oh… oh, this is perfect."
Memories surged forward, vivid and detailed, no longer fragmented but fully formed, painted in rich colours and sounds.
A grand academy suspended among floating islands of crystal and obsidian, its towers spiralling into skies alive with crackling mana storms.
Whoosh—
The rush of wind through levitating bridges.
Clang-clang-clang—
The constant ring of duels on training grounds where students of every race clashed for rankings that dictated status, resources, and survival.
Hidden dungeons beneath the grounds that rumbled with ancient guardians, their roars shaking the earth as treasures pulsed with forbidden power.
Battles that left craters smoking with residual magic, crowds cheering in thunderous waves.
And then, the heroines.
His voice dropped slightly, thick with indulgent, predatory appreciation.
"The cold noble girl… the demon noble… the beastwoman…"
Each image formed clearly in his mind, hyper-detailed, betraying how often he had lingered on them in the dead of night.
"…the elf prodigy… the saintess…"
A slow, appreciative exhale that carried a hungry edge.
"Damn…"
His thoughts didn't linger on their abilities or roles in the grand plot. No, they dove straight into the filth.
The ice noble, Selene, with her silver hair cascading like frozen waterfalls, body tall and sculpted, full breasts straining against noble gowns, long legs that could wrap around him while she tried (and failed) to maintain that haughty glare.
He imagined pinning her against a frost-laced balcony at midnight, tearing the silk, hearing her sharp gasp turn into broken moans as he thrust deep, making that icy pride melt into slutty whimpers. "You'll beg for my cock, ice queen. Now spread those perfect thighs and drip for me while your noble house watches you become my personal fucktoy."
The demon noble, Nysera, her crimson glowing hair, horns perfect for gripping, tail that would coil desperately around his waist as he bent her over in the restricted archives.
That seductive bratty voice cracking into husky screams — "Harder, you bastard—ahh—fill me!" — her ass rippling with every savage slap of flesh on flesh.
The beastwoman, Kashara, wild golden fur on twitching ears, powerful yet curvaceous frame built for rough, animalistic breeding.
He'd take her in the moonlit grounds, bent over, claws raking stone as she howled in orgasm, tail wagging like a bitch in heat while he bred her deep.
The elf prodigy, Vaelyra, lithe and ethereal, sensitive pointed ears flushing crimson, perky breasts begging to be sucked until she sobbed.
In the academy greenhouse, vines from her own magic binding her petite body as he took her slow and relentless, making her genius mind shatter with overstimulation.
The saintess, Seraphina, golden hair like a halo, pure white robes hiked up, body made for corruption on the altar. Her holy voice screaming his name in ecstasy instead of prayers, pussy clenching as he painted her insides.
"Top-tier… all of them."
His grin sharpened, self-satisfied and cruel.
"And every single one of them… ended up in the protagonist's harem."
Silence followed, but it was not empty. It was filled with the weight of his conclusion.
"…Yeah."
His voice dropped, steady and certain, dripping with arrogance.
"I'm taking that world."
There was no hesitation. No second-guessing.
"I already know everything anyway."
Confidence surged within him, filling every corner of his awareness.
"The plot, the events, the characters…"
He scoffed lightly, the sound sharp and dismissive.
"The original protagonist? Yeah, right… That lucky, plot-armoured, system-powered loser. Half his wins were just bullshit luck and author handouts. He's seriously ridiculous."
His tone grew sharper, more arrogant, laced with venom.
"If I were in his position? I'd crush it. I'd take all his opportunities, get stronger way faster… humiliate him publicly. And the heroines…"
Another pause. Longer this time, and more deliberate.
His thoughts painted vivid, obscene scenes, accidental close contact turning into dominance, tension-filled encounters where he pinned them, playful (and not-so-playful) control turning them into devoted, cock-drunk additions to his harem.
"…yeah. I'm not letting those go to waste. They'll be moaning my name, begging on their knees, while I rewrite the whole damn story."
The presence stirred again.
A subtle shift, like the slow turn of an ancient tide.
It conveyed the warning once more, clearer this time, its "voice" calm and measured, utterly detached from his blustering disrespect.
'That world is not so easy. Transmigrating there carries true risk. This is no game of scripts.'
He laughed outright, the sound mocking and unrestrained.
"That's it? You think some random 2D character is gonna resist me? They're basically NPCs. No way I lose to someone like that."
He leaned forward slightly in his mind, as if addressing the presence directly, still utterly shameless.
"Stop wasting time with the warnings, big guy. It's cute and all, but I've got this. Send me already."
The presence regarded him for what felt like an eternity, neither offended nor amused.
His arrogance was simply… noted. It was an irrelevant mortal speck's noise against cosmic silence.
Then, with calm finality: 'As you wish.'
A grin stretched wide across his face.
"Send me already."
His voice dropped into a confident, almost greedy whisper.
"I've got a story to take over."
And then—
The void collapsed.
Space twisted violently, folding inward as though reality itself had been grabbed and crushed into a single point.
His consciousness was pulled along with it, dragged into a spiralling current that defied all logic — whoosh-crack-whirl — colours and mana and raw power flashing past in a chaotic storm.
"WOAH—!"
And even then—
"This is it!!"
The pull intensified, faster and faster, until thought itself struggled to keep up. His imagination surged one last time, filling the chaos with vivid certainty.
The academy. The battles echoing with clang and boom. The heroines, their bodies and moans soon his. Him, at the center of it all.
"I've already won—"
And then—
Everything vanished.