(#$&@'s POV)
"Fuck."
The word slipped out before I could strangle it. Though, the mortal could not hear what I said because it came out too fast for him to process.
My face didn't change. A god who flinches loses authority, no matter how powerful. But inside, my guts twisted. The fucker had done it—he'd actually managed to assemble a perfectly valid chain with less than one hundred thousand points. The Validator itself had approved it.
That should have been impossible. For all intents, I'm happy for the guy. Not only do I get to observe him every now again in his new life, but should his karmic points hit a certain threshold, I get a piece of that accumulated karma.
Nonetheless, this is a two-edged sword. My superiors would never let a mortal who hadn't even reached 50 million points gain that much power. You see, karmic points aren't just currency. They're the currency in which your good acts have helped the world or people around them.
This guy, with 84K points, is basically the Devil in their eyes. Even though I know he hasn't done much. He's not evil, that's for sure. To the old fogies up top, sticklers for rules and their views on progression, the mortal was inadequate.
[No. No, I can't allow this.] My thoughts rattled against the walls of my skull. [If my superiors catch wind of this, I'm finished. My pension would be gone. And my 15 quadrillion years of working would be flushed down the drain.]
Yet, here was this idiot grinning like he'd just outsmarted a casino.
I read the slots again and my golden eyes stung as if I'd stared into a sun too long. Ikari Transformation. Green Lantern Synchronization. Sage Mode. Shinigami Soul Combat. Sorcerer Supreme Fundamentals. Made in Heaven.
Every link was clean, in order, progressive, and totally legal.
[If he hits a five or six, he walks out of here with the seed of gods in his bones. My bosses will want to know who let him through. They'll trace it back to me. They'll take it out of my retirement fund, and that's if I'm lucky. Worst case? They recycle me into the same meat grinder I've been feeding idiots into for eras.]
Who had put that damn Six-Luck Chain Power Breaker in the system? Which bastard coder thought it was funny to let mortals climb to the level of reality-warping monstrosities for pocket change?
And why did it have to be this one, a snarky, underachieving slob from a bugged sandbox reality? If it was that Jesus guy, then sure, they wouldn't even bat an eye. Everyone loves Jesus.
But this porn-obsessed freakbob? Hell no.
I wiped the fury off my face before he could notice. Neutral tone. Always neutral. Just like the videos taught me.
"Yes," I said, voice as calm as a glacier. "You've done it correctly. But the dice still decides. Let's see what the result is."
His eyes glittered like a gambler pushing his last coin forward. "Oh right. I hope I get a six. Please… let it be a six."
I swallowed air I didn't need.
[Please, no. One power is fine. They'd let it slide. stomach. Two I can manage. But three or higher? That's it. Retirement's gone. Job gone. Me—gone. Hell, even he's gone.]
The die shimmered into existence above us, spinning in its own gravity. The numbers on its faces burned like suns. Well, because they were very much suns.
I prayed. Not to anything else above my superiors but to probability itself.
[Just a one. Just a one.]
The mortal threw.
***
(Mortal's POV)
2.
#$&@ did not smile. He didn't sigh in relief, either, which told me his poker face was good enough to work in the retail department of hell. Hehe, technically, this is could be his hell. Who knows?
"Two," he said, voice even. Strange, it sounded a bit shaky there for a sec. "You get the first two in order."
Heat pierced through into my chest. The chain I'd built wasn't a pile of broken dreams now; it was a ladder with two rungs I could actually touch. The DBZ universe is vast with many possibilities to acquire the abilities I want.
Hell, if possible, I'd go to Namek in a heartbeat just to get something similar to Sage Mode.
"Confirm the imprint sequence," #$&@ said to the air. The office-without-walls responded with a hum that prickled the edges of my awareness.
[Slot one: DBZ Super — Ikari Transformation Ability.
Property: Rage.
Slot ability Confirmed.]
A bunch of weird mechanical computer noises sounded out of nowhere. Almost like it was processing.
[Slot two: Green Lantern Synchronization.
Property: Willpower.
Destination: Saiyan Imperium timeline.
Slot ability Confirmed.]
"Question," I said, after reading the voice confirm everything. Why? Because I always had them. "About the Lantern thing. There is no ring in the destination reality, right? So what does 'synchronization' even give me?"
#$&@'s golden eyes cut to me. "You remember the clause about downshift translation across realities?"
"Traits, instincts, potentials," I recited. "No alien hardware or software gets smuggled into a different modeled computer that doesn't support it."
"Exactly. In a Saiyan-ki framework, Green Lantern synchronization won't be a shiny toy on your finger. It will express as a will-bound energy discipline. Think of it like this: your ki responds to coherent intent more readily than average. Over time, with some training, you'll be able to shape it; planes, geometric tools, machine guns. And it's not because of a ring, but because your will has a harder bite into your energy. No oath is required. And no big chrome-domed headass aliens breathing down your neck about the good of the universe."
"So… in theory, I could push it to the limits like the Lanterns construct instinct," I said. "Only in the language my new body understands of course."
"Precisely."
"Good," I said. My mouth was dry, even without a mouth. I was ecstatic. This was a wet dream of some guys or gals back home.
"I can work with that."
"And the first slot. Ikari form" #$&@ says in a very serious tone.
"Understand this clearly: Ikari isn't a permission slip to win. It is a trap as much as it is a power. If you channel your anger without control, you'll only burn yourself out, or worse—break yourself. Even Broly, with his hacks, was already starting to lose to SSB Goku the moment he transformed. You chose well with the second slot. Rage needs reins."
"I'm counting on that." I felt proud of myself. For the first time in what felt like forever, my last two brain cells really went into overdrive.
"Very well." He raised his palm. "Brace yourself, mortal."
I didn't have a body, but the pain still found me somehow. This kind of pain was like etching. As if someone was tattooing my soul with a needle.
Something heavy and hot was poured into me, then hammered flat until it became a hidden plate behind my ribs.
Ikari: the pressure of a dam, the rumble of a flood, the taste of iron under the tongue when the world says no and something in you answers try me, bitch. It's like a switch had turned on. My potentialburned bright within me. Ever now, without a body, I feel the rage increasing.
"Stupid dice. Why'd you only give me two abilities. You worthless shit. GIVE ME ALL SIX!!"
At this point, my thoughts were beginning to spiral out of my control. Even thought of my losing control made me even angrier.
"Shit, Ikari isn't no joke. Even without a physical body, you're beginning to rage. Ha! Loser!" Then he snaps his finger.
A second later, cooler and sharper, an invisible force descended upon my anger, shrugging and containing it until it no longer eroded my thoughts. Green Lantern Willpower.
Man, this is no joke. No wonder they're one of DC's most fearsome powered fighters. Not because of physical strength, but because of their sheer will.
Shit, if not for the restraints placed on the rings' protocols, I'm sure Thanos would be a prime candidate so fearsome no one in marvel could match.
Because… things require the strongest of wills.
Willpower vector that takes anger, points it and gives it edges. Soon, they heat within my being subsided and the etchings cooled. The office steadied around me.
#$&@ lowered his hand. "Two rungs on a loader," he said softly. "More than everyone else. Not enough to save you if you don't save yourself."
"I know," I said. And I did. If I'd landed a five or a six, I might've spent the rest of my new life trying not to become a monster. I'm not a bad guy but there are temptations. Things that could easily be blamed on being a Saiyan.
With two though, I'd spend my time grinding to becoming a fighter. My genetics make me a target. Even if I went to earth, Frieza would eventually come there. How else did goku's pod manage to land there? They have the coordinates!
#$&@ flicked his tablet, checking boxes like falling dominoes. "Last call for tantrums, threats, or tearful gratitude."
"None of the three." I met his eyes. "Just…thanks for not lying to me."
He made a face that was part guilty and part thankful. "Don't tell anyone. It ruins my brand."
The floor beneath me opened to reveal a trapdoor that made the place we were in remember gravity. The office stretched away; the mug on his desk flipped through its slogans—WORLD'S OKAYEST GOD to THIS IS FINE (FIRE) to I HATE MEETINGS.
#$&@ lifted it in a small, almost invisible salute.
"Good luck, fifteen million-one," he said. "Try not to die stupid."
"Uh, 15,000,001?" I asked, confused as hell, and suddenly fell.
Oh, duh. He did say there were 15 million other people who he's reincarnated?