John's P.O.V.
'So, Shenron had gone back to my Summon space, waiting to be summoned the same time next year. At least the sky was back to a pristine, pollution-free blue, and Pepsi– I mean, Satoru Shujinko, was finally back to his human self.'
I stood back with my hands stuffed in my pockets, the infinite well of energy inside my soul perfectly suppressed, and just watched my dysfunctional found family celebrate this victory.
Sebas Tian, his tailored suit still a shredded, purple-stained mess from his fight with Battle Beast, reached into his suit and somehow pulled out a perfectly chilled bottle of Corona with a lime wedge already perfectly wedged into the neck.
Sebas stepped over the rubble, handed the beer to Satoru, and then, in a rare display of total abandonment of his butler decorum, pulled the shivering, newly-human guy into a massive, rib-crushing bear hug.
"It's good to finally see that smile on your face, my friend."
The rest of the summons swarmed him. Neel stepped up, adjusting his cracked glasses, and aggressively clapped Satoru on the shoulder with a shark-like grin.
"Losing the mascot branding is going to tank our merchandising division," Neel joked. "But I think the return on investment on your looks will be pretty stellar. All jokes aside, I'm happy for you, Satoru."
Nakime stood a few feet away, with a warm smile on her face as she cradled the Holy Cow under one arm and Ship in the other. Ship stretched out a blob of green goo to affectionately lick Satoru on his human nose, prompting the cow to let out a soft, agreeable moo.
"Welcome back to humanity, Sir Satoru," Nakime said softly.
Even Jason, clutching his bruised groin and limping heavily from the synchronized triple nut kick he had just received, hobbled over to ruffle Satoru's messy hair.
"You look like a total dork," Jason wheezed, wincing as he tried to shift his weight. "Just promise me you will keep those three psychos away from my royal jewels from now on."
Only Meruem remained at his position, far away. The Ant King didn't bother with the mushy stuff. He stood with his arms crossed over, staring out at the restored Earth. But he couldn't hide the slight, approving smirk on his face.
'Game recognized game, I guess.'
I just stood there letting them have their moment. Satoru had earned it.
I turned my attention back to the glowing blue interface hovering in the corner of my vision. I still had two Diamond tickets and a single Platinum ticket left, aside from dozens of bronzes, silvers, and golds that I was planning on saving for a rainy day.
Just as I was about to tear the first Diamond ticket, a heavy hand grabbed my shoulder and violently spun me around.
Cecil Stedman had somehow managed to slip past Meruem's tail. The Director of the Global Defense Agency marched right into my personal space. His trench coat was ruined, his face was smeared with ash, and his scarred features were twisted into a scowl of pure panic.
"John fuc… I mean, Mr. Kaisen," Cecil started, his voice tight and hoarse. "As much as you've caused me to lose years off of my lifespan today, I can't deny the results. Your use of those genie wishes to restore the Earth and resurrect the dead was the best play I could've made. You saved the world, congratulations."
Cecil paused, his breathing ragged, and pointed a trembling finger toward Satoru.
"But don't you think, rather than wasting the third, reality-altering wish on a goddamn mascot, you could have used it to remove the mental and physical trauma of the entire population?"
A familiar, hot annoyance flared in my chest. A deep, angry scowl crawled onto my face.
"Look, I'm not completely heartless," Cecil grunted, rubbing the bridge of his scarred nose like a migraine was actively drilling into his skull. "It's a touching fucking moment. Truly. But you could've benched the mascot for another twelve months and used that last wish to actually save this planet."
I narrowed my eyes, dropping my voice to a dangerous, heavy low. "You have a pristine planet. You have your dead back breathing. I did my job. Deal with the geopolitical fallout yourself, Cecil."
Cecil let out a harsh, barking laugh that held absolutely zero humor. He stepped right into my personal space, completely uncaring that I possessed enough power to turn him into a red mist with a single blink.
"Deal with it?" Cecil spat, his voice rising into a raspy yell. "You arrogant little shit! Do you have any goddamn idea what the human race just went through? You think rebuilding a few bridges and planting some trees fixes this?!"
He reached out and grabbed the collar of my jacket, his knuckles turning white.
"Billions of people just got their minds irreparably shattered! They watched the sky catch fire! They watched Viltrumites rip their kids in half! They watched a blue, tentacled cosmic horror eat the fucking sun!" Cecil roared, spittle flying from his lips. "You drop eight billion people back into their homes right now, global society collapses by Tuesday! The mass hysteria, the suicide rates, the doomsday cults—humanity's spirit is fundamentally broken! They won't last a fucking month, John, let alone a whole year!"
I stared at the old man. I wanted him to fuck off and tell him that he was the head of global defense and this was his mess to clean up.
But as I looked into his bloodshot eyes, I sighed.
I let the anger drain out of me. Because the frustrating truth was… Cecil was right.
I had saved the hardware, but the software was completely corrupted. You can't put a perfectly healthy brain through an apocalypse and expect it to just reboot without errors. Eight billion people entering normal lives with vivid memories of cosmic horrors would tear the newly restored Earth apart with panic and madness before the weekend was over.
"Family first," I told Cecil, gently but firmly removing his hands from my collar. "That's how Chaos Corp rolls. Satoru nearly died for this world. He got chewed and spit out again and again, to save as many people as possible. I wasn't going to let him stay trapped in that metal coffin for another three hundred and sixty-five days just because it made your life easier. I stand by my decision."
Cecil's shoulders slumped. The fight went out of him as he looked like a beaten dog.
"Then we're fucking dead," Cecil whispered.
"I didn't say I wasn't going to try and fix it," I muttered, turning my back on him.
'Alright, RNGesus,' I prayed internally, looking up at the sky. You've been so kind to me for this last roll. Help me this last time, pretty please.'
I took out the first Diamond ticket and mentally tore it.
The holographic wheel spun in the dark void of my mind. It clicked rapidly, a blur of neon colors, before halting on a blinding diamond glow.
[Gloryhound]
|Elite Trait|
You are a Gloryhound, always seeing the next achievement. You have a sixth sense for opportunity, or more correctly, opportunities that would let you increase your fame and reputation. You have an easier time making people perceive you how you want them to, being able to change your vibe to one that feels dangerous, to comforting, to imposing.
I felt a bizarre shift deep within my soul.
It was like a conceptual slider had been installed in my brain. My posture unconsciously straightened. I felt an acute, hyper-awareness of exactly how everyone in the crater was perceiving me.
With a mere thought, I flared the trait. To Cecil, I suddenly looked like the most imposing, terrifying warlord in the universe. Cecil violently flinched, his hand darting into his ruined coat for a weapon as the blood drained from his face.
A second later, I flipped it, and I radiated the comforting, warm aura of a saint.
Cecil gasped, his knees buckling as the paranoid tension instantly melted out of his spine against his will.
He stood there blinking, his face twisting into pure disgust as he realized I'd just hijacked his instincts.
It was a cool party trick. It would be amazing for politics or establishing dominance in a boardroom.
But it was completely useless for curing the PTSD of eight billion people scattered across a Mansion the size of a dimension. It only affected how people saw me, not how they processed their own trauma.
"Useless," I grunted, swiping the notification away.
I took out the final Diamond ticket. This was it.
'Come on,' I thought, my heart hammering. 'Something good. No… give me something broken.'
I tore the ticket.
The wheel spun as the tension in my chest wound tight like a coiled spring.
Click.
[Vainglory]
|Legendary Ability|
You possess the ability of Vainglory, the ability to assert your own false truth. By expending your energy, you are able to convince people of your words, no matter how far-fetched, such as making them believe they were a bird. The larger the power difference between you and the target dictates the efficiency of the ability, the harder a lie to believe, the more energy you have to expend to assert it.
The change in my soul this time wasn't just subtle. It was a heavy anchor dropping into the center of my being.
It felt like the very concept of 'truth' had been placed into the palm of my hand, waiting to be molded like wet clay. It was the power to overwrite reality with undeniable confidence.
If I had enough energy, I could look at a man, tell him the sky was made of neon green cotton candy, and he would live the rest of his life violently defending that fact.
And the system description explicitly noted the catch: The harder the lie, the more energy you have to expend.
A slow, creeping grin spread across my face.
I had the [Infinite] trait, Energy expenditure was a joke to me. I had an endless, churning ocean of power. I could assert a false truth so massive it would blanket the entire human race, and I wouldn't even break a sweat.
And with my Unlimited Energy reserves, it was the ultimate gaslighting.
A plan suddenly formed in my head as if a lightbulb ignited.
I looked over at Satoru. He was laughing, taking a swig of the Corona, holding Mary's hand like it was his lifeline. He looked so normal. So wonderfully, remarkably human.
"Hey, Satoru!" I called out.
Satoru blinked, lowering the beer, and turned around.
"How about one last stunt before retirement?" I asked, walking toward him.
Before he could answer, I activated a skill I hadn't used in a long time.
[Knighting]
I reached deep into the conceptual space of my soul, grabbing the persuasive weight of [Vainglory], and violently ripped it outward.
Purple energy bled from my palm, condensing and solidifying in the physical world. The energy braided itself together, forging into a thick, gleaming silver chain bracelet.
[A/N]:
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