Beneath the pouring rain, hidden within a dark alley, a group of delinquents ran away in fear, one dropping a shattered bottle of liquor. On the ground lay a man, bleeding out from a head wound. Sanguine blood mixed with the rain, pooling around him.
"God, it's so cold..."
He tried to push himself up but found his body unresponsive. In fact, his limbs felt unbearably heavy, as if an anchor had been strapped to them. His vision blurred, his pupils dimming with each passing moment.
Through the haze, he saw the retreating figures of those who had done this to him—a group of teenagers who had too much to drink and probably too much stress on their shoulders. A failed attempt to call out to them died in his throat as his body temperature continued to drop.
The sound of rain filled his ears.
Then, from the corner of his eye, he saw the cigarette he had dropped during the fight, still burning with its comforting warmth and cancer-inducing fumes. Oh, how he wished to at least taste that warmth one more time.
Then, suddenly, the sparks from the cigarette found their way to what seemed to be the spilled contents of the alcohol.
Flames ignited, burning brighter and hotter despite the torrential rain—a poetic defiance against cold death. The fire reached him, but there was no pain. Neither the sensation of his skin burning nor the choking fumes of the fire registered. No, what he felt was warmth—warmth against the cold he so desperately wished to escape.
Instead of hoping for the fire to die out, he embraced it, letting the blaze consume him. And as his soul drifted into the afterlife, the flames raged, spreading into the city. Many died...
---
(Mortal, wake up.)
His eyes fluttered open, but the haze persisted.
(Good. Now, here's the deal.)
Looking up toward the voice, he saw a massive figure whose form defied description. It swirled and shifted, never settling on a recognizable shape. His brain ached trying to comprehend it.
(Okay, so my friends and I made a world from scratch, right? And what we're gonna do is create copies of that world, throw our champions into them, and whoever creates the most entertaining story wins 50 bucks from the rest of us.)
"...Wait, huh? What's going on?"
Being resurrected was a strange sensation. One moment, everything—sight, sound, taste, touch, smell—was gone. The next, it all returned in a chaotic rush, like a slap to the face with no warning. The resulting headache was, at the very least, understandable.
(Okay, I know this might be jarring, but hey, you get really cool powers and all that.)
The voice... it wasn't right. It was like a group of kindergarteners had been handed instruments and told to play directly into his ear while someone repeatedly smacked his face with an RGB gaming keyboard.
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Even worse, the voice wasn't just *heard*—it could be *felt*. Symbols, numbers, and letters seemed to press against his very being, forcing themselves upon him in a way that was almost perverse—soft, violent, relentless.
The sensation made him want to peel off his own skin, just to scratch the itch beneath his bones.
(Wow. Rude, I can read minds you know? But no matter—I may be a giant toddler given nigh-omnipotence, but I'm also a giant toddler given nigh-omniscience so I'm wise enough not to kill you outright.)
A snap of fingers echoed in his mind. A scream tore from his throat as his ears began to bleed. The haze in his eyes vanished, and he found himself standing in a pool of darkness that rippled with his erratic movements. His knees gave out, and he collapsed onto the floor.
Despite the water beneath him, his skin and clothes remained dry. Instead, the liquid felt more like slime, squirming against him.
The wretched sensation intensified as the darkness began creeping up his arms, but then—
A transparent blue screen materialized in front of him.
(Now, I want you to carefully choose among the options. And no, you won't get a system—you'll have to rely purely on the skills I bestow upon you and your own natural growth. Also, hurry up, or I'll throw a tantrum.)
With shaky breaths and equally trembling hands, he looked at the screen. As he read through the options, a chilling breeze swept past him.
His heart pounded. A crushing weight bore down on him. Fear overwhelmed his senses, and—
He lost control of his bladder. Warm piss spread through his pants.
(Oh damn! Bro pissed in my house! Bad dog!)
The voice exclaimed in a disturbingly cheerful tone, followed by an orchestra of mismatched laughter.
With quivering breaths and tear-filled eyes, the man choked out, "I-I'm... hah... sorry..."
(Well, just hurry up! I'm getting angrier by the second!)
With those words, a crushing force slammed down upon him. It felt as though his very bones were shattering. Ignoring the pain, he turned back to the screen—the only source of light in the void.
---
Choose 2 Elements! (You can still master the others later.)
> Fire
> Water
> Air
> Earth
> Lightning
> Ice
> Plant
> Darkness
> Light
> Beast
Choose 3 Traits!
> Calm Mind
> Regeneration
> Superhuman Body
> Immortal Soul
> Magical Proficiency
> Prodigious Intelligence
Choose 3 Weapon Proficiencies!
> Axe
> Bow
> Dagger
> Hammer
> Martial Arts
> Shield
> Spear
> Staff
> Sword
> Whip
Choose 2 Job Bonuses!
> Medicine
> Religion
> Strategy
> Engineering
> Stealth
> Alchemy
---
For his elements, the man chose Fire and Beast—all while feeling something crawl up his leg. A mass of maggots wriggled beneath his clothes, some even burrowing into him.
He hurriedly selected Bow, Martial Arts, and Sword. Finally, before he could break from the sheer horror of it all, he picked Medicine and Engineering.
Desperate, he screamed at the void.
"I'M FINISHED! PLEASE, MAKE IT STOP!"
(Finished? No, no, you're not finished. Check again.)
A clicking sound made him freeze.
From the darkness, they emerged—centipedes, each with the head of a goat and legs made of severed fingers. A grotesque host encircled him, inching closer while letting out the cries of slaughtered livestock.
He screamed. He cried. He frantically picked the first three traits his eyes landed on—Calm Mind, Regeneration, and Superhuman Body.
Then, suddenly—
Everything stopped.
All the sensations, all the horrors, simply ceased. Even the water beneath him vanished, though remnants remained—pools reflecting the eerie blue light of the screen, with severed fingers scattered within them.
Shaking, he looked at his hand. A maggot attempted to burrow beneath his fingernail. He flung it away in disgust.
As he tried to compose himself, he turned toward the source of the voice.
A towering figure loomed before him—darkness given form.
And in that moment, he knew—this was a god. A true god.
(Now that that's settled, let me explain my gimmick for this challenge.)
(I want you to 'reform' the world in my image. And by that, I mean reshape it into something akin to what you just experienced. I want you to become a Dark Lord. Do not worry—I will provide you with the necessary mental illnesses to *enjoy* the process.)
(So, I won't hold you here much longer. Just one thing—whatever you do, DO. NOT. FAIL. ME.)
The world went black.
