"What the fuck did I just read?!" Oliver muttered as he scrolled through the latest chapter of a freshly released webnovel. His eyes widened with disbelief. "That guy… that useless background character who couldn't even get three lines of dialogue—his system made him overpowered in seven days?"
He stared at his phone, his heart thumping faster with each line.
The novel was called My System Has 10,000 Villains. A ridiculous title, sure, but it was trending everywhere. The protagonist, a nobody destined to die in chapter two, suddenly awakened an absurd cheat system. Overnight, he turned from cannon fodder into someone who could slap around the so-called "chosen ones."
Oliver felt both thrilled and envious. Man, imagine if I had something like that… a system, a cheat, anything.
Reality, of course, was cruel. He was Oliver, a perfectly average college student. His life was a simple cycle of attending classes, cramming for exams, and binging webnovels until ungodly hours.
No systems. No rebirths. No destiny. Just instant noodles and overdue assignments.
Still, the fantasy tugged at him. He wanted to be that extra who defied fate, who spat in the face of the author and carved out his own path. But he knew it was just a dream.
---
The next evening, Oliver found himself trudging through the chilly night streets. His breath puffed out in small clouds as he headed to the convenience store. His exams were looming, and he had armed himself with the deadliest weapon in a college student's arsenal: instant ramen.
"Alright, five packs should be enough," he mumbled, tossing them into his basket. "All-nighter fuel, here we go."
As he walked back, humming to himself, something strange caught his eye.
The ground trembled.
The night sky, usually quiet with stars, was filled with an unnatural roar. Oliver glanced up—only for his jaw to drop.
An airplane. No, not just an airplane—a massive aircraft, far too low, far too close. Its engines screamed as if tearing the very air apart.
"W–what the f—"
The last thing Oliver saw was a blinding wall of steel and fire.
Pain never registered. One second he was alive, ramen bags swinging in his hand. The next—obliteration.
---
Darkness.
That was all there was. No sound. No sensation. Just endless void.
But then—something pulled at him. A force, gentle yet irresistible, dragging him away from the abyss. He tried to struggle, to scream, to do something—but his body refused to obey.
He felt himself slipping, as though falling through layers of unseen fabric.
And then—light.
Voices.
"He isn't crying," said a trembling, elderly voice.
Oliver blinked—or tried to. His vision was blurry, shapes swimming before his eyes. He couldn't make sense of it.
"Did something happen? The other one is fine though," another voice said, laced with worry.
The other one? Oliver thought, his confusion mounting. What do they mean by the other one?
He tried to move, but his limbs felt weak, alien. Panic bubbled inside him. He opened his mouth—and to his own horror, what came out wasn't words but a loud, piercing wail.
The old women exchanged relieved glances.
"There, finally. He's crying."
Warm hands lifted him. A rough cloth wrapped tightly around his tiny form. Oliver's mind reeled. Wait. Why do I feel… so small?
The realization slammed into him like cold water.
He wasn't just alive.
He was reborn.
---
For the first few hours, Oliver drifted in and out of consciousness, his thoughts scattered. Every sound was too loud, every light too bright. His body felt fragile, as though it wasn't his at all.
It was only after a while that the fragments started connecting.
The two elderly women were midwives. He could tell from their tired yet practiced hands, from the way they handled him and another small figure swaddled nearby—the other one. His twin, perhaps?
"Both boys, strong lungs," one of them murmured.
Strong lungs, huh? Oliver wanted to laugh but only managed another squeaky cry.
Inside, though, his mind was racing.
Wait. Did I just… reincarnate? Did that damn airplane kill me and toss me into another world?
The thought was absurd, insane even. But wasn't this exactly how half the novels he read started? A mundane death, a mysterious rebirth, and then—systems, destinies, power.
His chest tightened with excitement. Please, please tell me I get a system. I deserve at least that much after dying like a bug in the street.
But no voice echoed in his head. No glowing blue panels appeared before his eyes. No cheat. No tutorial. Nothing.
Only the soft hum of voices, the rustle of cloth, and the comforting warmth of being held.
Damn it, Oliver cursed inwardly. Don't tell me I got reborn as just… a normal baby again?
---