The stench of the room was a physical weight—a cocktail of sour sweat, stale instant ramen, and the ozone tang of a laptop cooling fan struggling for its life.
Kazo Kain sat in the throne of his own making: a creaking office chair reinforced with duct tape. At forty-five, his world was exactly seventeen inches wide—the size of his monitor. On the screen, a 2D succubus with violet hair and a chest that defied physics blinked in a high-definition loop.
He reached for a bag of chips, but his hand stopped. A dull, rhythmic throb started behind his eyes, spreading down his jaw. He checked his phone.
Balance: $0.00. Status: Overdrawn.
No more delivery. No more internet bill. No more escape.
The throb in his chest became a jagged tear. Kazo gasped, his vision tunneling until the only thing left was the glowing, pixelated girl on the screen. He felt a pathetic, hot tear roll down his cheek.
I spent it all on ghosts, he thought, his heart stuttering like a dying engine. Forty-five years, and I never even touched a woman's hand. I never lived. I just... waited to die.
As his face slumped forward against the warm plastic of the keyboard, a final, desperate prayer ignited in the wreckage of his mind.
If there's a next time... I don't want to watch anymore. I want a girl. No, a wife. I want a harem. I want to feel... everything. Please. Just once... let me be the one who wins.
The fans on the laptop whirred one last time, then fell silent.
The White Void
Goddess Hana didn't look like the ethereal beauties Kazo had worshiped on his hard drive. She was a presence—vast, terrifying, and smelling of ozone and ancient stardust. She looked down at the soul of Kazo Kain, which looked like a grey, oily marble.
"You want the 'Endless' life?" her voice echoed, vibrating through his non-existent bones. "You lived as a shadow, Kazo. I shall cast you into a world of blinding light. Let's see if you wither or burn."
With a flick of her finger, the marble was sent screaming through the dimensions.
The Carda World
"He's not breathing! Paul, he's not breathing!"
The world hit Rejo like a physical blow. Oxygen rushed into lungs that felt like they were being scraped with sandpaper. He let out a scream—not of a baby's confusion, but of a man realizing the resolution of reality had just been turned up to maximum.
"There he is!" a deep voice boomed.
Rejo opened his eyes. Instead of a flickering monitor, he saw a ceiling of hand-hewn timber. A man with shoulders like an ox and skin tanned to the color of mahogany grinned down at him. This was Paul Pater, a man who smelled of river water and honest sweat. Beside him, a woman with tired, radiant eyes—Jia—cradled him against her warmth.
"Rejo," she whispered. "Our little Rejo Pater."
As the months turned into years, Rejo realized he wasn't in a dream. He was in Carda, a world where the air itself felt heavy with something called Magicules. He had three siblings—Max, Karen, and Oga—who could run faster and jump higher than any Olympic athlete back on Earth.
He watched his father pull fish from the river that glowed with bioluminescence and watched his mother, a village teacher, light the stove with a casual snap of her fingers.
This is it, Rejo thought, watching the sunset over the Lulua Kingdom's distant spires. This is the Isekai dream. No more NEET life. I'm going to be handsome, I'm going to be strong, and I'm going to find that wife.
The Awakening: Age Five
In Carda, age five was the "Day of Purpose." The family journeyed to the local church in Hula Village, a stone structure overgrown with shimmering ivy.
"In our family, we are providers," Paul said, ruffling Rejo's hair. "Max got 'Net Mastery.' Karen got 'Speed Reading.' Maybe you'll get 'Grand Harvest,' eh?"
Rejo stepped up to the Skill Altar—a slab of obsidian etched with glowing runes. The Priest, a man whose eyes held the faint glow of Mana, placed a hand on Rejo's head.
"Seek your essence, child," the Priest intoned.
Rejo closed his eyes. He thought of his past—the darkness, the shame—and his future: a life of luxury and the touch of a woman.
A pulse of silver light rippled through the church. It wasn't a roar; it was a hum, like a thousand tuning forks striking at once. On the surface of the obsidian, a single word formed in the Ancient Script.
[ UNIQUE SKILL: CIEL ]
The Priest leaned in, squinting. He checked his scrolls, then looked at Rejo with a mix of confusion and pity.
"Ciel?" the Priest muttered. "It... it translates roughly to 'Sky' or 'Calculation.' A variation of an Analysis skill. It is rare to be Unique, but... it has no combat application. No elemental affinity."
The villagers whispered. In a world where "Power is Royalty," a boy with a "Calculator" skill was destined to be a clerk or a low-level scholar.
"Ah, well," Paul said, putting a supportive arm around Rejo. "A teacher's mind, just like your mother. You'll live a long, safe life, Rejo."
Rejo forced a smile and nodded. Perfect, he thought. A boring skill means a boring life. I'll stay in the village, get rich as a merchant using my 'Calculation,' and marry the prettiest girl in the valley. No demons, no dragons, no drama.
But as they walked out into the sunlight, a voice—cool, feminine, and terrifyingly precise—spoke directly into the center of his soul.
<< Notice. >>
Rejo stumbled. Who said that?
<< Analysis complete. I am the Unique Skill 'Ciel.' Correction: To prevent 'System Overload' of the local World Language, my true designation has been masked. >>
Rejo's heart stopped. Masked? What are you really?
<< True Rank: Ultimate. >> << Current Status: God-Blessed Management Intelligence. >> << Internal Directive: Ensure the Master's survival and the fulfillment of the 'Endless' desire. Warning: Hostile entities detected within a 50-mile radius. Would you like to begin Mana Optimization? >>
Rejo looked at his small, soft hands. The "Peaceful Life" he had planned was already crumbling. He was a nuclear reactor disguised as a campfire.
<< Master? >> the voice prompted.
Rejo took a deep breath, a smirk finally tugging at the corner of his young lips. "Yeah," he whispered. "Let's begin."