I slowly opened my eyes, the dull ache in my head a persistent throb, a familiar companion to the disorientation of waking up in a new place. My vision swam for a moment before focusing on the pristine white expanse above me. It was utterly devoid of any personal touch, a blank canvas that mirrored the emptiness in my memory of how I got here.
"...It's the legendary unfamiliar ceiling," I murmured, a dry chuckle escaping my lips. The cliché was almost comical. So, this was it. My turn to experience the sudden, disorienting shift into a new reality
A familiar, detached voice echoed in my mind, devoid of inflection, yet somehow conveying a sense of monumental importance. It was the same voice that had welcomed me after Asgorath's departure, the voice of the Infinite System of Infinity that I had personally designed.
[Master, you are currently the owner of the yet-to-be-released Yggdrasil. As a bonus, you have gained the Hacking and Programming skills inherent to this world, integrated directly into your being. However... there is bad news.]
My heart seized, a sudden, sharp pang of anxiety. "Bad news? Don't tell me I can't gain power like Ainz did in canon?" A cold dread began to seep in, a fear that my meta-knowledge would be useless, that I'd be a powerless spectator in a world I knew intimately. The thought of being weak in a world of overwhelming power was far more terrifying than any unknown. I'd already been through the whole 'baby' phase in the 7th Prince world; I wasn't keen on starting from scratch with a new set of limitations.
[Not that, Master. You can naturally gain the power of your character, just as a player would. But... the random curse you received is a terminal illness that will result in your death precisely at the game's official shutdown, coinciding with your transmigration.]
I blinked, processing the words. My death? At the very moment of transfer? It sounded like a cruel cosmic joke, a final, spiteful twist from whatever cosmic entity decided my fate. "...So? What's the problem? Won't I just transmigrate to the new world anyway?" My voice sounded hollow, even to my own ears, a desperate attempt to rationalize away the terrifying implications. The idea of dying again felt... redundant, and frankly, annoying. I'd already had my spectacular meteor exit; did I really need another one?
[Master, your death directly impacts the transmigration. As it occurs at the exact moment of the server shutdown, it renders your transfer to the specific New World, where Ainz appeared, impossible. The energy required for a targeted jump will be disrupted by your physical demise, scattering your essence.]
"I see..." A knot tightened in my stomach, a cold, hard lump of dread. The specific New World. The one with Nazarick, with the NPCs, with the grand adventure. That was gone. The very destination I had chosen, the one that promised familiar power and a clear path, was now off-limits. "But you said I will transmigrate, right? Just... not there?"
[Yes, Master. You will, but randomly. The good news is that it will at least be to an anime world before the start of its canon events. This provides you with a window to adapt and prepare, a chance to establish yourself before the main plot kicks off.]
"Randomly..." I sighed, the initial thrill of transmigration now tinged with a grim uncertainty. The vast multiverse of anime worlds stretched out before me, a terrifying lottery. Would it be a world of magic, of technology, of gods, or of mundane slice-of-life? "I just hope it's not some world too powerful for me to survive in. Being dropped into a shonen anime at its peak, like Dragon Ball Z or something where a sneeze can obliterate a planet, would be less transmigration and more immediate obliteration. Or worse, a world with no magic at all, just endless paperwork."
I pushed myself up, my muscles surprisingly responsive, a testament to whatever body I now inhabited, and began to survey my surroundings. The room was minimalist, sleek, and bathed in the soft glow of unseen lights emanating from the ceiling itself. No windows, no doors, just smooth, unbroken surfaces that hummed with a barely perceptible energy. My gaze drifted to what I initially thought was a massive, wall-mounted screen, but quickly realized was a panoramic window, offering a breathtaking view of the outside world. What I saw stole my breath.
It was a true sci-fi cityscape, stretching into the hazy distance, a breathtaking symphony of chrome and light. Towering skyscrapers, impossibly tall, pierced a sky alive with shimmering holographic advertisements that danced and shifted, displaying vibrant, impossible products – flying cars, anti-gravity homes, synthetic gourmet meals. Silent, gleaming vehicles, sleek as polished obsidian, glided along invisible sky-lanes, their paths illuminated by trails of ethereal blue light. It was a vision of tomorrow, a testament to humanity's boundless ambition, a future I had only dreamed of in my previous, mundane life.
But then, the beauty fractured. A thick, sickly yellow smog clung to the upper reaches of the buildings, obscuring the horizon, a permanent shroud over the city's grandeur. It wasn't merely pollution; it was a visible, tangible sickness, a cancerous growth on the urban sprawl. The air within my room, I realized, felt unnaturally clean, sterile, a stark contrast to the toxic reality outside. Just one glance was enough to tell me this world was dying, suffocating under its own progress, a gilded cage built on a foundation of decay. The sheer scale of the environmental catastrophe was staggering, a silent scream against the backdrop of technological marvel. It was a grim reminder that even with all their advancements, humanity still managed to screw things up on a grand scale. Ignorance might be bliss for the masses, as I'd once thought, but for me, it was a call to action.
"...System," I whispered, the awe replaced by a profound sense of despair, a heavy weight settling in my chest. "Is it possible to help this world? To... reverse this? To cleanse it?"
[I can, Master, but you must complete a mission.]
[Mission: Become the strongest 'World Enemy']
[Reward: Purifying World Tree implementation on this world's core]
[Will you Accept it?]
My jaw tightened. A World Enemy? To save this dying world? The irony was palpable, a bitter twist of fate. To become the very thing they would fight against, all for a chance at salvation. It was a heavy burden, a monumental task that would undoubtedly put me at odds with every major power on this planet. But the image of that choking cityscape was burned into my mind, and the memory of my own yearning for something more, for a life with purpose, resurfaced. "I accept it," I stated, the words firm, a new, desperate purpose igniting within me. The terminal illness might claim me, but I wouldn't go out without trying to leave something better behind, without making my mark. "By the way, System... what's my status right now?"
A holographic panel shimmered into existence before me, displaying my current attributes in crisp, glowing text.
[Status:
Zevion Asgorath
Title: ???, ???, ???, ???, ???
HP: 100/100
MP: 100,000,000/100,000,000
ENR: ENDLESS (LOCKED)
STR: 675
VIT: 10
AGI: 976
DEX: 964
INT: 100,000
WIS: 96,476
LUCK: 999,999,999
Skills: Hacking(lvl: 9), Programming(lvl: 9), Magic mastery(lvl: 9)
Abilities: OMNI-CREATION, Infinite energies (LOCKED)
Curse: Weakest illusion, Terminal illness]
"Hmm... that's quite a status," I mused, scanning the numbers, a mixture of awe and confusion swirling within me. "I can guess why the titles aren't showing – too high to reveal, probably some cosmic-level designations that my current self can't handle. But why are my stats so monstrous? INT and WIS in the hundred thousands, LUCK almost a billion? And if they're so monstrous, why are my health and vitality so ridiculously low, at a mere ten points? It's like I'm a glass cannon made of pure thought!" The disparity was glaring, almost comical, especially considering the "Weakest Illusion" curse I already possessed.
[Master, you are currently affected by the curse of a terminal illness, which significantly reduces your health and vitality. This is a direct consequence of the curse's nature, a constant drain on your physical resilience. As for your other stats, they have been increased and strengthened by your 'Infinite Energies' ability, a gift from Lord Regret. Although it is currently locked, it passively enhances your attributes, channeling a fraction of its power into your core stats, allowing for such immense figures despite your physical fragility.]
"Then why is my luck so absurdly high!" I demanded, pointing at the astronomical number, which seemed to shimmer with an almost impossible glow. It was an outlier, even among my other inflated stats, and frankly, a bit suspicious. Nothing that good comes without a catch.
[Master was selected by Lord 'Regret' as his successor. Such an event is truly something only the luckiest can achieve, a convergence of probabilities so infinitesimally small as to be almost impossible. Even without being formally selected, merely being acknowledged by him is enough to dramatically increase one's luck. It is only natural, a residual effect of his cosmic influence.]
Lord Regret. A being whose very existence could warp fate, whose mere glance could bestow unimaginable fortune. The thought sent a shiver down my spine, a mix of awe and a faint, unsettling unease. What kind of being was 'Lord Regret,' and what did he get so bored that he sought to simply cease existing? His final words echoed in my mind: "Just live as you want now. No need to be good or anything. Just be your own self."
"Sigh. Anyway, let's get going. I need to select my race in Yggdrasil." A mischievous grin spread across my face. The game was my domain now, my canvas. With my Hacking and Programming skills, and the system I'd personally tailored, I wasn't just a player; I was a god in the making. "You know what? I'll customize a race just for me, and me alone. Something truly unique, something that reflects my... unique situation and my grand ambitions."
I spent the next few hours immersed in the game's creation interface, a labyrinth of options and sliders, pondering every intricate detail. The possibilities were endless: monstrous, angelic, elemental, undead, demi-human. Ultimately, I came to a surprising conclusion, one that felt both counter-intuitive and profoundly right: being human was the best choice for me. Not just because I harbored a nostalgic fondness for my original species, but because of the grand dream I harbored for the future, a vision that required a fundamental connection to humanity. And wouldn't it be far cooler, far more satisfying, if I were to defeat all those arrogant, prideful races who looked down on humanity, as a human myself? To prove their disdain was baseless, their superiority a fleeting illusion. To show them that the very origin could rise again and surpass them all.
Of course, I didn't choose a normal human. That would be far too mundane for someone in my position, someone with 'Omni-Creation' and 'Infinite Energies.' I selected the 'Original Human of Beginning and Apocalypse.' It was a custom name, more a title, really, but in essence, they were the progenitor race from which all other races originated. They had once stood tall over every other race, even gods, possessing every single racial trait and skill, for they were the origin itself, the primordial template. Yet, at some point, they became extinct, dying out due to sheer boredom, a species so powerful and advanced they had simply run out of challenges. The arrogant races that followed did their best to erase every trace of them, desperate to hide the uncomfortable truth of a human race that had once been everyone's progenitor. A certain, grudging respect for Lord Regret stirred within me at that thought; to die of boredom, that was a power in itself, a level of existence I could only aspire to.
I made sure to grant my chosen race a unique system, distinct from the game's core mechanics, something that would set them apart even within the game's vast framework. This system mirrored my own, the Infinite System of Infinity, which I had painstakingly designed in the void. Any action, no matter how small or seemingly insignificant, would grant experience points, and skills only required a single point to master, allowing for rapid and versatile growth. Crucially, I added a feature to grant 'limit breakers' and levels to others who swore their absolute loyalty to me. This wasn't just about my power; it was about building a foundation, a loyal cadre who could stand by my side, a true guild of the strongest. This was my foundation, my starting point, the seed from which my grand design would sprout.
The game's launch was imminent, and with my race chosen and my unique system meticulously crafted, I felt a surge of anticipation. The terminal illness was a ticking clock, the random transmigration an unknown variable, but here, in the digital realm of Yggdrasil, I was in control. The real work, and the real game, was about to begin.