Eridius died in the dumbest way imaginable—hit by a truck, flung into another, then crushed by a third.
And just like that… he was gone.
Now he stood in a quiet office beyond death, waiting for reincarnation.
But—
[Grey]: According to this report, you're being sent to the City from Project Moon.
[Eridius]: The one where people have clocks for heads, time is currency, and "human resources" isn't a metaphor?
[Grey]: That's the one.
[Eridius]: …Great. Love that for me.
[Grey]: Now then, you'll also be receiving a system.
[Eridius]: Oh? Finally, some good news.
[Grey]: A Dictator System. The kind that would make a certain mustached painter look merciful.
[Eridius]: …I'd like a refund.
[Grey]: Not an option.
[Eridius]: Then alternatives?
Grey pauses, flipping through a few pages.
[Grey]: Well… there is a lost-and-found box. Full of broken system parts. I could try assembling something.
[Eridius]: I'll take it. I don't care if it sparks and explodes—just not that.
[Eridius]: …How bad could it be?
Grey doesn't even look up.
[Grey]: Yes.
[Eridius]: What does that even mean?
[Grey]: It means a lot. Now hurry up—I've got three nightmares at home waiting for me.
He drags out a battered box, stuffed with things that definitely shouldn't be in the same place—writhing tentacles, glowing chips, broken interfaces, things labeled "SFI," "RTS," "FPS," and… other, more questionable categories.
[Grey]: Let's see… command modules, shooter packages, base-building cores, skill frameworks… Take your pick. You get two.
Eridius pauses.
The City isn't a place you survive with brute force alone. Wings rule the heights, the Fingers own the Backstreets, and the Outskirts… are worse. Guns are taxed. Power is controlled. Anything too strong gets noticed—and erased.
He needs something flexible. Something scalable.
[Eridius]: Command power… and a skill menu. Something that can grow.
Grey nods, already piecing things together.
[Grey]: Good choice.
He starts assembling it—slapping parts together with alarming confidence, stuffing in extra components that spark and twitch.
[Grey]: I'll add a little of this… tweak that… and—
Click.
A crude, humming interface flickers to life.
[Grey]: Done. Command authority, scalable skill system… and I threw in a gacha.
[Eridius]: …You threw in a gacha?
[Grey]: Don't worry. It only occasionally ruins lives.
The device buzzes in Eridius's hands.
Somewhere deep inside, something glitches.
And then—
[System Initialized… Probably.]
[Eridius]: …It works?
[Grey]: Yes. Now, goodbye.
[Eridius]: Wait, wha—
A dark portal snaps open beneath him and yanks him in.
[Eridius]: —THE HELL?!
Gone.
Grey watches the empty space for a moment, then hums.
[Grey]: …Did I mention the system might alter his body?
A pause.
[Grey]: Or that it could glitch?
Another pause.
He shrugs.
[Grey]: Eh. He'll figure it out. Probably.
[Chapter End]