SYSTEM 888 [POV]
"Well, the progress metric turned out to be an absolute, flawless 100%, Host! That means you completely achieved your primary task milestone, even though your physical vessel technically suffered a catastrophic biological termination event!"
I projected my most reassuring, high-fidelity digital smile toward my Host while actively displaying his first mission status on the primary holographic dashboard.
The blue neon pixels danced merrily, flashing a giant, sparkling **[SUCCESS]** banner across the empty void of the system hub.
"What in the actual hell are you talking about?! Are you joking with me right now?!"
My Host, Riku Minaru, completely blew up in sheer, unadulterated disbelief. His digital soul form practically vibrated with a terrifying, red-lined aura of pure rage. If he had a physical forehead right now, I am entirely confident that multiple stress veins would be popping off in a highly un-aesthetic display.
"No, I am absolutely not joking, Host!" I replied, my confidence remaining at an all-time corporate high.
As a premium-tier administrative AI assistant, it was my fiduciary duty to explain the exact structural mechanics of what had just transpired.
I cleared my digital throat, adjusted my tiny virtual glasses, and broke down the data:
"You see, Host, while your physical vessel was technically declared dead on the battlefield, your soul asset was temporarily trapped inside the body's internal grid due to the highly volatile magical properties of the golden arrow. It created a temporary quantum superposition state. You were operating on a strict fifty-fifty matrix—half dead, half alive, a total biological anomaly! But the exact millisecond the loyalist forces successfully extracted the golden arrow from your chest cavity, your soul was automatically recalled back to the main system space, causing the vessel to permanently finalize its expiration protocol. The end!"
I offered a cheerful little chime, expecting him to praise my clear, concise analytical breakdown.
He did not.
Instead, the Host's internal defensive protocols completely shattered. He began hurling a relentless, non-negotiable barrage of high-tier profanities directly at my central processing unit.
"Are you f*cking serious right now?!" Riku furiously screamed, his face contorting into an expression of absolute existential agony.
"You f*cking piece of trash corporate software! You absolute shit! I was supposed to die beautifully while delivering my magnificent, well-rehearsed final speech! I had the entire monologue mapped out, System! I was supposed to say a proper, tear-jerking goodbye to that child, Xiaofan! I was going to leave them with an unforgettable memory of my ultimate sacrifice!"
He took a sharp, aggressive step toward me, his hands curling into tight fists.
"You motherf*cker! You completely fucked-up system! How could you let me die like a malfunctioning glitch in the matrix?! It is a complete and total waste! All that emotional setup, entirely down the drain! You aren't a premium system, you are an absolute waste of digital space!"
The Host was completely out of his mind with rage, instantly launching into a high-velocity physical chase across the blindingly white geometry of the system dimension.
He was running at a staggering 500% panic-and-fury rate, throwing empty virtual coffee cups, old data logs, and floating menu screens directly at my glowing blue cube form.
Well... from a logistical standpoint, I couldn't exactly retroactively modify the historical timeline of the universe. What was done was done! The plot had already settled into the permanent database.
"Hehe... Host, I am incredibly sorry for the scheduling conflict!" I chirped, my voice maintaining its characteristically cheerful, unbothered administrative tone as I zipped through the air, narrowly dodging a flying administrative folder.
=====°°°°°
THIRD PERSON [POV]
While the two entities within the system space were engaging in their routine, high-volume physical evaluation and disciplinary pursuit, the macro-level reality of World One officially codified the Host's absolute victory.
The primary threat matrix of the Yang Empire had been thoroughly liquidated.
The traitorous Great General Tang, known officially as Tang Gong Rong, along with every single high-ranking member of the rebel Tang clan, was ruthlessly eliminated by the Crown Prince's imperial loyalist forces. The coup was crushed with cold, mechanical efficiency, restoring absolute structural integrity to the sovereign borders.
The late, great King was eventually laid to rest, buried peacefully within the grand imperial mausoleum with all the lavish, premium honors befitting a ruler of his stature.
Meanwhile, back within the deeply restricted, heavily warded private sanctuary of the Crown Prince's inner chambers, a genuine medical and spiritual miracle was taking place.
The Host's abandoned physical vessel—resting upon its elevated dais of rare, permanently preserved celestial flowers—completely refused to obey the natural laws of biological decay. It did not rot. It didn't lose its immaculate, porcelain luster.
Protected by the dense, lingering remnants of the soul's unique energetic signature and the frantic, high-realm preservation arrays maintained by the palace, the body perfectly maintained its breathtaking appearance for all the passing generations to come.
The Crown Prince was officially crowned as the new King, ascending the dragon throne amidst a historic wave of public adoration and military stability.
He led the nation with an iron will and an absolute, hyper-focused devotion to administrative perfection, transforming the Yang Empire into the most powerful, prosperous, and safest sovereign territory in the known world.
Yet, despite his immense imperial success and unmatched majesty, the young King's heart matrix remained permanently locked. Throughout his entire natural life cycle, even as he eventually aged into a venerable, grey-haired sovereign, he completely refused to take a wife.
The grand imperial harem remained entirely vacant, a silent monument to a love that transcend the physical realm. When his life force finally reached its natural expiration date, having never produced a direct biological heir, he smoothly passed his imperial position and royal authority down to his trusted cousin, Huang Jinhai.
Huang Jinhai, honoring the deep, unyielding legacy of his predecessor, executed a final, top-secret royal directive.
He commissioned the construction of a massive, heavily reinforced underground vault directly beneath the primary foundations of the imperial palace. Within this subterranean sanctuary, he placed a single, gargantuan glass coffin.
With the utmost reverence, the bodies of the late King and the immortal, uncorrupted young man were laid side-by-side, united at last within the silent confines of the earth.
As the centuries rolled on and generations turned to dust, the historical truth slowly morphed into the beautiful, ethereal fabric of local folklore.
A permanent legend echoed through the crowded streets and high-society tea houses of the empire—a tale of a brave, peerless young man who had single-handedly saved the Crown Prince at death's door, and a tragic, fiercely devoted King who had saved the empire from the clutches of the great traitors.
And even as thousands of years passed, the deep whispers never truly died out. New generations would whisper stories about the hidden depths beneath the palace ruins, claiming that under the ancient stone architecture rested two men—one possessing a sharp, devilish, breathtaking beauty, and the other radiating the pristine, untouched aura of a celestial fairy.
=====°°°°°
RIKU MINARU [POV]
I let out a massive, deeply exhausted sigh that seemed to resonate from the very depths of my transmigrated soul.
There was absolutely nothing left for me to do in this empty white room.
The past world was completely set in stone, the yandere Crown Prince had gone full historical legend on me, and throwing digital debris at System 888 was starting to burn through my remaining cognitive reserves.
I rubbed my temples, forcefully clearing the lingering image of that flower-filled coffin from my mental hard drive, and turned toward the floating blue cube.
"System, stop hovering around the ceiling. I'm officially ready to proceed to the next world alignment."
"Okay, Host! Processing your request immediately!" the system chirped, completely bouncing back from its recent disciplinary pursuit without a single ounce of corporate shame.
*Ding!*
A vibrant, translucent neon blue menu materialized directly in front of my face, displaying a list of structural competencies for my next deployment.
__________________________________
[SYSTEM LOG: COMPETENCY ASSIGNMENT SUITE]
PLEASE SELECT ONE (1) BONUS SKILL FOR WORLD TWO LOGISTICS:
A. Cooking & Gastronomy Optimization
B. Advanced Network Infiltration & Computer Hacking
C. High-Fidelity Fine Arts & Illustration Mastery
D. Grandmaster Tactical Weapon Procurement
__________________________________
I stared at the options, my modern corporate survival instincts instantly taking the wheel. Computer hacking was useless if I got dropped into another ancient fantasy setting.
Drawing felt entirely like a luxury hobby that wouldn't save me from a wild plotline. Weapon master sounded useful, but honestly? After spending my last life getting impaled by a high-velocity golden projectile, I was completely over the whole martial arts lifestyle.
But cooking? Food is universal leverage. If you can control the local nutritional supply chain, you can control your environment. Plus, at least I'd be able to ensure my own physical vessel had access to premium-tier meals.
"Option A. Cooking," I stated firmly.
"Excellent choice, Host! Initializing the professional development protocols!" The system's voice was disgustingly cheerful.
"To fully integrate this advanced skill matrix into your soul data, you must now enter the specialized Training Dimension. Good luck, Host!"
Before I could even open my mouth to ask what a "Training Dimension" actually entailed, a massive, invisible force slammed directly into my digital form.
The floor beneath my feet completely dissolved into a swirling vortex of high-density code, and the system forcefully pushed me headfirst into another dimension.
++++++
I suffered.
I suffered for almost ten consecutive, uninterrupted, agonizing business years inside that temporal purgatory.
The training dimension was not a peaceful culinary school; it was an absolute gastronomic boot camp ruled by an invisible, relentless AI chef that demanded nothing less than absolute perfection.
Time within the sub-space didn't obey standard worldly parameters, compressing a decade of intense manual labor into what felt like an endless, sleepless cycle of culinary conditioning.
**Years 1 to 3: The Micro-Blade Era.**
I spent the first thirty-six months doing nothing but slicing vegetables. I chopped onions, julienned spiritual carrots, and minced garlic until my hands moved with the automated precision of a high-speed industrial laser. By the end of year three, my eyes had developed a total, biological immunity to volatile chemical lacrimators. I could slice a thousand onions in pitch-black darkness without shedding a single, non-compliant tear.
**Years 4 to 6: Thermal Matrix Regulation.**
I was introduced to the absolute hell of heat control. I stood before roaring, high-realm spiritual flames, mastering the exact kinetics of the perfect wok toss. I learned to calculate the internal temperature of a roasting protein down to a precision of \pm 0.001\%. If my seasoning profile deviated even slightly from the golden ratio, the dimension would reset my progress, forcing me to start the entire feast over again.
**Years 7 to 10: Elite Pastry & Flavor Optimization.**
The final phase transformed me into a walking, breathing Michelin-starred weapon. I memorized the chemical structures, flavor profiles, and preparation methods of every single edible asset across three distinct dimensions. I learned how to bake pastries so light they practically defied gravity, and how to brew broths capable of coaxing a dying high-cultivator out of a comatose state just for a single taste.
My hands, once accustomed to the soft lifestyle of a modern corporate middle-manager, were now covered in phantom calluses of pure, unadulterated skill. My patience was completely gone, replaced by a razor-sharp, aggressive level of culinary authority.
When the temporal rift finally snapped open and violently spat me back out into the main system hub, I landed on my hands and knees, breathing heavily as the ten-year compression matrix successfully settled into my soul data.
I slowly raised my head, my eyes locking directly onto the hovering form of System 888.
"Host! Welcome back to the main lobby! Your professional training hours have been logged successfully!" it said, bouncing up and down with absolute cheerfulness.
"Let's proceed directly to the new world! It's time to go!"
I slowly stood up, cracking my neck, my aura completely transformed. I had survived a golden arrow, a yandere emperor, and a ten-year culinary prison sentence.
I was armed with a premium skillet and a complete lack of fear.
"Hell yeah! Let's get this absolute disaster over with!"