Eridius died the dumbest way possible—hit by a truck, launched into another, then crushed by a third.
Now he’s standing in a reincarnation office, expecting a fresh start.
Fate gives him two choices:
Become someone worse than a certain infamous painter…
—or take a random system cobbled together from scrap.
He picks the system.
Big mistake.
It’s barely functional, clearly built from junk—and to make things worse, he’s dropped into a city where people have clocks for heads, time is currency, and “human resources” is taken very literally.
And worst of all—
[Garion]: Sign the papers already.
Eridius groans.
[Eridius]: Please stop, Miss Garion. This is a Fixer office, not an orphanage. You can’t adopt me.
She smiles.
[Garion]: Oh, really?
The next second, the office explodes outward as masked Fixers are blasted through the walls—
Garion casually walks out, carrying Eridius in a princess carry as she runs.