I slowly opened my eyes, a dull ache pounding through my head—a persistent throb, like a hungover friend who refused to leave. My vision swam before settling on the pristine white expanse above me. Not a speck of dust. No cracks. No posters of waifus. Just... blank. It mirrored the emptiness in my memory of how I got here.
"…It's the legendary unfamiliar ceiling," I muttered, a dry chuckle slipping out. The cliché hit like a truck—but not truck-kun. More like a low-budget sitcom pilot. So this was it. My turn to experience the sudden, disorienting shift into a new reality.
Then came that familiar, detached voice. It echoed in my head, flat and emotionless, but somehow managing to carry a sense of divine gravitas. The same voice that greeted me after Asgorath's departure—the voice of the Infinite System of Infinity. My own creation.
[Master, you are currently the owner of the yet-to-be-released Yggdrasil. As a bonus, you have inherited the Hacking and Programming skills of this world, directly integrated into your being. However... there is bad news.]
My heart seized like a poorly-coded script mid-compilation. "Bad news? Don't tell me I can't gain power like Ainz did in canon?" The idea clawed at me—what if my meta-knowledge was useless? What if I ended up some powerless side NPC? That fear hit harder than dying. I already did the whole 'baby phase' in the 7th Prince world. I wasn't about to grind life from scratch again.
[Not that, Master. You can gain power naturally—just as a player would. However, the random curse you received is a terminal illness. It will result in your death precisely at the game's official shutdown, the exact moment of your transmigration.]
I blinked. Wait—death? At the moment of transfer?
That sounded less like reincarnation and more like divine trolling. "…So what? Won't I just transmigrate anyway?" My voice echoed hollow in the sterile room. It felt like I was arguing with fate using Google Translate. I already died spectacularly via meteor—was another exit even necessary?
[Master, your death affects transmigration. Because it occurs at the exact moment of the server shutdown, it disrupts the energy required for a targeted transfer to the specific New World—where Ainz appeared. Your essence will scatter.]
"I see…" A cold knot formed in my stomach. The specific New World—the one with Nazarick. The NPCs. The overpowered gear. Gone. The very path I planned, closed. "But you said I will transmigrate, right? Just… not there?"
[Yes, Master. But it will be random. The good news: it will be an anime world, and before the canon begins. You will have time to adapt and prepare.]
"Randomly…" I sighed, the excitement of transmigration now sour with uncertainty. The multiverse stretched before me—a cosmic gacha. Would I land in a magic-filled wonderland? A cyberpunk dystopia? A slice-of-life ramen shop? "I just hope it's not something ridiculous like Dragon Ball Z. I'd probably die to a power-up scream echo. Or worse, end up in a world with no magic—just paperwork and capitalism."
I pushed myself up, surprised at how responsive my body felt. Definitely not Earth-standard. The room was minimalist—sleek and softly lit, like a meditation chamber designed by an AI interior designer. No windows. No doors. Just seamless walls and a faint hum of ambient energy.
Then my eyes landed on what I thought was a wall-mounted screen—until I realized it wasn't a screen at all. It was a panoramic window.
And the view outside stole my breath.
A sci-fi cityscape sprawled before me, infinite in scope. Towering skyscrapers clawed at the heavens, their sides alive with holographic ads that shimmered and danced in impossible colors. Flying cars zipped between them, their paths traced by glowing neon lanes in the sky. Buildings floated. Whole districts hovered. Everything radiated a sense of ambition… and danger.
But beauty came with a cost.
Above it all, a sickly yellow smog clung to the skyline. Like rot on a golden apple, it obscured the horizon. Not mere pollution—this was visible decay. The air in the room, I realized, was unnaturally clean. Sterilized. Artificial. A barrier against a dying world.
Even in all this technological splendor… this world was rotting.
"...System," I said softly, the awe replaced with a heaviness I couldn't shake. "Can this world be saved? Can it be... healed?"
[I can do it, Master. But you must complete a mission.]
[Mission: Become the strongest 'World Enemy.']
[Reward: Purifying World Tree implantation into this world's core.]
[Will you accept?]
A World Enemy? To save the world? The irony was rich. I'd have to become the thing people feared most to heal their home. My jaw tightened.
But the image of that choking sky burned in my mind. I couldn't ignore it.
"I accept," I said firmly. The terminal illness might claim me, but not before I left something behind. Something better. "Also, System... show me my current status."
A translucent panel shimmered into view before me.
[Status]
Name: Zevion AsgorathTitle: ???, ???, ???, ???, ???HP: 100 / 100MP: 100,000,000 / 100,000,000ENR: ENDLESS (LOCKED)STR: 675VIT: 10AGI: 976DEX: 964INT: 100,000WIS: 96,476LUCK: 999,999,999
Skills: Hacking (Lv. 9), Programming (Lv. 9), Magic Mastery (Lv. 9)Abilities: OMNI-CREATION, Infinite Energies (LOCKED)Curse: Weakest Illusion, Terminal Illness
"Hmm... That's quite a status," I muttered, scanning the numbers. The titles were blank—probably too OP to display. But those stats? INT and WIS in the hundred thousands? LUCK almost a billion?
And yet… my VIT was 10. My HP, just 100. I was a glass cannon made of quantum noodles.
"Why am I this fragile? I could trip over a rock and die."
[Master is afflicted by a terminal illness. It drains your vitality. Your other stats are enhanced by the 'Infinite Energies' ability, a gift from Lord Regret. Though locked, it passively channels power to your core attributes.]
"Okay, but why is my LUCK absurdly high?" I pointed accusingly at the number. It sparkled. It mocked me.
[Master was selected as the successor of Lord 'Regret.' This event is beyond cosmic probability. Just being acknowledged by him increased your luck exponentially.]
Lord Regret… a being whose mere notice warped fate. Who got so bored, he decided to un-exist. His final words echoed in my mind:
"Just live how you want now. No need to be good or anything. Just be your own self."
A shiver ran down my spine.
"Well, then. Let's get started. I need to pick my race for Yggdrasil," I said with a smirk.
This was my domain now. With my skills and system? I wasn't just a player—I was a developer with godmode.
"You know what? I'll make a custom race. Just for me. Something that screams 'I'm inevitable.'"
I spent the next few hours deep in the game's race-creation interface—a labyrinth of sliders, traits, and divine absurdity. I considered all options: dragons, angels, demons, eldritch horrors, talking vending machines...
But in the end, I chose something unexpected.
Human.
Not just any human, of course. That'd be boring.
'Original Human of Beginning and Apocalypse.'
A custom race. The progenitor of all others. Once, they had stood above gods themselves—possessing every racial trait, every skill, the template for creation. And then… they vanished. Extinct. Out of boredom. Their legacy erased by the arrogant races that followed.
That was my race now.
I granted it a system entirely separate from the core game mechanics—one only I could access. It mirrored the Infinite System of Infinity I had built in the void. In it:
Any action, no matter how mundane, gave EXP.
Skills required only one point to master.
Growth was limitless.
Loyalty granted others 'limit breakers' and levels, forming the backbone of my future guild.
This wasn't just about me. This was about laying a foundation—building a brotherhood of the absurdly powerful. A guild that stood at the apex of everything.
The game's launch was near.
My race: chosen.My system: integrated.My curse: ticking.My destination: unknown.
But one thing was certain.
This was my story now. And I was ready to rewrite the world.