Dave at first thought it would be easy.
I mean, he was that guy.
The type who'd consumed so many anime, manga, light novels, and webtoons that his brain was practically a database of cheat abilities and broken system mechanics.
He lived for isekai and fantasy—his favorite genre by far.
He'd seen it all. Overpowered protagonists, world-breaking skills, infinite growth hacks. Choosing a power? Should've been a piece of cake.
'Should I go with Beelzebub?'
That anime with the goblin MC—the one where he could absorb the abilities of anything he ate. That power was busted. Evolution through consumption? He'd basically be unstoppable.
Plus, it was thematic. Dark. Cool. Kinda gross, but whatever.
'Wait... but isn't that infinite leveling system even better?'
He remembered the Korean manhwa—the MC just kept leveling up. From training, from learning, from existing. It didn't even need monsters or enemies. A system that respected grind? Yes please.
But—
'Ah… but there's also that synthesis system from Chrono-star…'
The one where the MC could combine anything. Skills, magic, weapons, concepts. Like mixing fire and stealth to make "Silent Inferno"—whatever the hell that was, but it sounded awesome.
He paused.
...Then frowned.
And frowned harder.
There were too many. Too many good options.
Too many systems he wanted.
Too many powers he knew worked well—for someone else.
But now that it was his turn?
It was like standing in front of a vending machine with a million buttons—and being told to pick one thing to live the rest of your life with.
And here came the kicker:
He had no idea what kind of world he was going to.
What if it was a slice-of-life world with no monsters to fight? That would make the leveling system pointless.
What if magic didn't even exist there? Then synthesis, devouring, or magic builds would be screwed.
Some of the powers he loved were too niche. Others needed a very specific setting to shine.
The problem wasn't that he didn't have good ideas. The problem was that none of them were safe bets.
He leaned back and groaned. His head was spinning with all the options.
He knew a lot. Maybe too much.
And right now?
It was working against him.
He ran both hands down his face and muttered, "Fuck, I'm gonna be here forever."
Mika, still seated calmly like she was waiting for tea to steep, just smiled faintly. "You look like someone trying to min-max character creation on nightmare difficulty."
Dave grunted. "It feels like that."
He stared up at the not-ceiling of this not-office in this not-real place. There had to be something. Something that would work in any world. Something flexible, upgradeable. Something with a wide enough base to start from zero—and still let him become a monster later.
Getting frustrated again, Dave let out a sigh and asked, "Can you at least tell me what kind of world I'll be going to? Like… monster world with magic? Mecha sci-fi? Or just a boring-ass normal world?"
Mika shook her head calmly. "I don't know. I'm not the one sending you. That decision is up to the universe. I'm just your guide."
Dave blinked, surprised. "Wait, even you don't know?"
Mika gave a small nod. "Not yet. I'll know the moment your soul transmigrates, but until then—it's out of my hands."
Dave mulled that over for a second, then asked, "So... can the universe also decide what kind of power I get?"
That actually made Mika raise an eyebrow. "It can, of course. But… why? Don't you think you should be the one to choose? That's what most humans prefer, you know."
She tilted her head, curious. Her voice wasn't judgmental—just genuinely intrigued.
Dave hesitated. He wasn't sure how to answer. Should he admit he couldn't make up his mind? That there were too many good options, and none of them felt like the "right" one?
Before he could figure out what to say, Mika smirked and beat him to it. "I see. You're overwhelmed. Can't decide, huh? I guess too much knowledge really is a curse for you humans."
Dave blinked. Right. She could read his thoughts.
He rubbed the back of his neck and muttered, "That's cheating, y'know."
Dave nodded slowly. "Yeah… something like that. I just can't make up my mind. There are too many powers I've seen—too many cool systems. And the thing is, some are amazing, but others… not so great. Or at least not great for humans like me. So in the end… I just don't know what to pick."
Mika gave a small, understanding smile. "I see. Don't worry—it happens sometimes. So then, how do you want to leave it to the universe? Should it be based on your luck? Or should the universe just decide what's best for you?"
Dave blinked. "Wait. There's a difference?"
"Yes," Mika said with a nod. "A big one. If you choose to go with your luck, then it's basically a gamble. I'll manifest a roulette wheel—one with ten powers pulled from your current thoughts. Powers you've considered already."
She held up a finger, her voice calm but clear.
"Those powers will range from weakest to strongest. Depending on your luck, the wheel will stop somewhere. If your luck's bad, well…" she trailed off, letting him fill in the blanks.
Dave didn't need to imagine it. He already knew—if luck was involved, he'd probably end up with the weakest, lamest skill on the list. Probably something like "Enhanced Breathing" or "Trash Sorting Affinity".
He winced. "Yeah, let's not do that roulette crap just yet. What's the second option?"
Mika continued, "The second is simple. The universe itself will choose a power for you—one that aligns with your destiny. No luck involved. It won't be based only on your current knowledge or what you've seen in fiction, but everything the universe has access to."
Dave narrowed his eyes. "So, like… from my ideas and from powers I don't even know about?"
Mika nodded. "Exactly. The universe can pick something entirely unfamiliar—or even create a brand-new power just for you, if that's what your fate demands."
Dave rubbed his jaw, thinking it over. The first option gave him a chance at a power he recognized—but also a high risk of getting something trash-tier. The second… was unpredictable. He had no control over it, but it sounded deeper. Bigger.
Tailored by the universe itself?
That sounded... heavy.
But also, kind of badass.
Dave nodded, closed his eyes, and tried to think it through.
But after a few seconds, he just shook his head with a bitter snort.
'What's the point in thinking? Fuck it. My luck's already so trash I died in my sleep thanks to a goddamn gas explosion. Why would I trust it now?'
He looked at Mika, his voice steady. "Let's go with the second option. Let the universe decide."
Mika simply nodded, no argument, no reaction. She raised her hand—and with a graceful flick of her fingers, snapped.
A rush of wind exploded through the room like a sudden storm. Dave's clothes and hair whipped violently around him, papers flew off the desk, but Mika stood unaffected. Her clothes and hair unmoving. Perfectly still, as if the chaos bowed to her presence.
And then—just as fast as it had come—the wind died.
Stillness returned.
And then:
[Ding! Congratulations. Crafting System awakened.]
The voice echoed inside his head. Mechanical, clear, and surreal.
"Crafting system...?" Dave muttered. It wasn't what he expected—not even in his top fifty picks. But before he could even finish the thought—
Reality twisted.
He staggered. The room warped before his eyes like melting glass. Mika's form blurred, stretched, folded in on itself. The walls rippled like waves. Everything was wrong—shifting, bending, falling apart.
"What the hell—?"
He wanted to shout, to ask Mika what was happening—but the words never made it out.
Darkness swallowed him whole.
Mika stood alone, gazing at the now-empty chair with calm, half-lidded eyes. She let out a soft breath and slowly closed them.
A heartbeat later, her mind's eye opened, seeing what mortal eyes could not.
She followed the thread of his soul—tracing it across dimensions—and smiled.
"Interesting..." she whispered. "So that's where he landed."
Her smile widened, ever so slightly.
'Not lucky, exactly... but not as cursed as the last one. This one might be fun to watch.'
Then, without fanfare, the space around her shimmered. The office dissolved. In its place, rows of lockers, posters, and whiteboards appeared. A different desk. A different window. The air smelled faintly of chalk and plastic wrap.
The manager's office was now a school office.
And Mika?
Now wore a neatly pressed blazer, a pencil skirt, and thin-rimmed glasses. Her long hair was tied in a strict bun. The picture-perfect image of a stern but elegant guidance counselor.
She sighed, already sensing the next soul materializing outside the door.