I always knew that my mouth would kill me one day.
But honestly I didn't think it would happen so soon.
Let's rewind a bit.
My name is Ashok . Jobless. Twenty-something. The kind of guy your parents warn you not to become.
My resume?
professional scammer(former)
Shady online course creator.
Meme creator.
Yep. I am one of those people . The guy selling "10 STEPS TO BECOME MILLIONAIRE" E-book for $9.99 while living in my mom's basement.
I was proud of it.
I used to scam old people in America and Then AI security got better couldn't do the same anymore. I couldn't ask them not to redeem the code(Sadly AI destroyed my job too).
I am not really a bad guy I Completed My degree in Computer science When I graduated There was no JOB its not like I wanted one.
This is Year 2027 and There are barely any jobs That AI didn't replace.
There is Universal Income for everyone. AI this AI that. no idea why there is AI in my toothbrush . Geopolitics is done by AI. Surveillance is done by AI. People started dating AI I don't mind AI Huzz that's actually some pretty good stuff.
In all the chaos hear I am living with my mother and my brother.
Well my father is no more.
He is still alive But have not came back from buying milk.
He is one of the scientist that is working on AI outbreak control.
My brother he is younger than me doesn't exactly remember is age or name But he wants to be a Rapper.
One day while I was Using my computer A news poped-up America is Overtaken by AI Drones and rest of the World is soon to follow .
TPT-11 AI model is taken control of Autonomous systems and killing humans.
After reading the news I did what any sane man would do I violently started blaming god and started creating memes about god
"Gods be like : 'Worship me or die'--bro, that's MLM, not divinity."
I was cursing god my brother was listening to all this things
"if you're real, O Almighty Scamlord, smite me with lightning. Bet you won't."
BooOM.
A thunderbolt smashed through my ceiling, turning me into extra-crispy nuggets
my brother Started to rap
" Here lies Ashok, a man of Stupid luck,
He cracked a joke, then the lightning struck.
No final words, no time to talk,
Just crispy silence... shock to Ashok."
"Fried like chicken, no secret spice,Ashok's last meme, cost his life price.AI took jobs, but God took the rest,Turns out my bro failed heaven's test."
Then he dropped the mic. Well, technically it was a deodorant can, but still, dramatic effect.
And that was my funeral.
No coffin, no priest, just the faint smell of burnt hair and a little brother spitting bars over my roasted corpse.
Next thing I know, I open my eyes — not to angels, not to hellfire, but… vindows XP startup sound.
No kidding.
I was in a freaking office lobby. Gray cubicles. Angels in business suits. A glowing printer that jammed every two seconds. Heaven, apparently, had corporate HR.
"Name?" the receptionist angel asked without looking up from their scroll-laptop hybrid.
"A-Ashok?" I stammered.
The angel typed rapidly. "Cause of death: Thunderbolt. Sub-cause: Bad joke. Intent: Blasphemy with comedic timing. Case filed under Entertainment for Bored Deities."
Before I could even argue, a portal opened and dragged me in like some cheap PowerPoint transition.
I blinked and found myself standing in a medieval fantasy town. Cobblestone streets. Wooden houses. NPC-looking peasants carrying baskets of potatoes like they were born to respawn doing it forever.
"Ah, yes," I muttered. "Generic Fantasy World #57."
And then I heard a voice.
"Ashok! You're finally awake!"
I turned, and there he was. My father.
Remember when I told you earlier my dad left to buy milk and never came back? Yeah, turns out in this timeline, he did come back. And apparently he was moonlighting as some kind of robed magician.
"Ashok, today is the day of your ascension," he said dramatically, as though he were about to narrate a prophecy.
I squinted at him. "Dad, you're alive here? Nice. Does that mean you'll actually buy the milk this time?"
He frowned. "Son, this is not the time for jokes."
"Oh, trust me, Dad. With that dramatic entrance, I wasn't joking. You sound like the discounted Fumbledore knockoff Temo would sell."
His eyebrow twitched. "You must take this seriously. Today you will awaken your true class, your destiny."
"Right, right. My destiny. Because nothing screams destiny like a reincarnated jobless meme dealer being shoved into a magic lottery system."
Fatherly Wisdom (a.k.a. Useless Advice)
As we walked toward the grand Ascension Hall, Dad decided this was the perfect time to give me life advice.
"Son, remember. Whatever class you awaken, cherish it. Work hard. Respect the gods. Never squander your gifts."
I nodded sagely. "Wow, thanks Dad. Truly revolutionary advice. 'Work hard.' Why didn't I think of that back when I was unemployed for four years? If only I had worked hard, maybe AI wouldn't have replaced my job, right?"
"These are the years you are going to change into who you are gonna become for the rest of his life just be careful who you change into" my father said
I said "Are you afraid that I'm gonna become more successful than you? Stop worrying about me Find a job please".
"Right" he sighed.
We entered the Ascension Hall. Imagine Mogwarts, but with more incense, less OSHA compliance, and way too many people pretending they weren't terrified of getting a garbage-tier class.
One by one, hopeful teenagers stepped up to the glowing crystal in the center of the hall. The crystal flared, and their classes appeared in shimmering letters above their heads.
"Warrior!""Priest!""Archer!"
Every time someone got something flashy, the crowd clapped like trained seals. Every time someone got "Farmer" or "Rat Catcher," everyone collectively avoided eye contact.
Finally, it was my turn.
I stepped up to the crystal, placed my hand on it, and tried not to sweat like a guilty politician.
The crystal glowed. The letters formed.
And then…
[Class: Mage (C-Rank)]
The hall went quiet.
A C-rank. The participation trophy of magical classes. The "thanks for showing up" grade. The fantasy equivalent of being told you're the backup dancer in life's musical.
Dad forced a smile. "Son… this is still respectable. A mage is a mage."
I turned to him and said loudly enough for everyone to hear:"Dad, don't try to sugarcoat it. I literally got the PowerPoint presentation version of magic. I'm like a candle compared to everyone else's flamethrower."
The crowd laughed. My father did not.
And then it happened.
Just as the priest was about to hand me my official "Congratulations on Being Mediocre" certificate, the sky rumbled.
BOOOOOOM.
Lightning crashed through the roof — AGAIN. Straight onto me.
"ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!" I screamed as I got electrocuted for the second time in a single chapter. "WHAT IS THIS, BUY ONE DEATH, GET ONE FREE?!"
I collapsed dramatically. Smoke rose from my clothes. The crowd gasped. My dad facepalmed.
And then… the world around me faded.
I opened my eyes. This time, I wasn't in an office.I wasn't in the Ascension Hall.
I was in… a cosmic theater.Dozens of gods lounging around like lazy streamers, eating popcorn, staring at me like I was the season finale of their favorite reality show.
"Well, well," one god chuckled. "The blasphemer returns."
Another sipped wine. "He pulled off two lightning deaths in a row. Rare achievement unlocked."
"Listen here, you celestial freeloaders," I snapped. "I already died once because I called you an MLM scammer. Now you ruin my ascension ceremony? What next? Smite me every time I make a pun?"
The gods roared with laughter.
One leaned forward. "Relax, mortal. We've decided to make things interesting. Your C-rank mage class? Consider it… upgraded."
A glowing panel appeared before me.
[Congratulations! You have acquired the SSS-Class: UNUSUAL MAGE.]Description: Cast any spell by naming it and imagining it. Warning: Effects are unpredictable. For entertainment for the gods.
I stared. "Unusual Mage? Really? So I went from Dollar Store Wizard to… Meme Sorcerer?"
The gods clapped like I was their favorite comedian.
"Perform well," one god said."Or horribly," another added."Either way, we win."
And just like that, they hurled me back into the mortal world.
"Wait, wait, hold up," I raised a finger. "You're telling me my power is literally just naming spells and hoping they work? That's not a class. That's— that's improv comedy with fireworks."
A goddess giggled, sipping her wine. "Precisely. And mortals love improv. Until it kills them."
I glared. "So what happens if I shout something like Cure Depression?"
A goddess raised her glass. "Either you'll become history's first therapist… or the spell will invent antidepressant pigeons that attack people. We don't know. That's the fun."
"Oh great," I muttered. "So I'm basically your personal prank show."
"Exactly," said one god cheerfully. "Do well and you might get worshippers. Fail spectacularly and… well, you'll still be hilarious."
Another god leaned over, stage-whispering, "Honestly, kid, don't think of this as a class. Think of it as… premium content. You're our Nutflix Original now."
I opened my mouth to argue, but before I could, the gods all chanted together like drunk frat bros at a football game:
"Back to the world! Back to the world! Back to the world!"
And just like that, they hurled me down through the cosmic exit chute, laughing their divine asses off as I spiraled back toward the mortal world.