The roar of the engine was a symphony. For Thomas Vance, it was the sweetest music, the only song capable of drowning out the silence in his otherwise perfect life. At twenty-five, he was the embodiment of 'having it all'. The Vance family legacy, an ancient European dynasty whose wealth could make small nations envious, flowed freely into his bank accounts. His face seemed sculpted by a Renaissance artist, and his body was perfectly maintained thanks to infinite leisure and resources. Yet, beneath it all, there was a gaping emptiness, a boredom so profound it felt like a sickness.
Tonight, speed was his cure.
His Koenigsegg Jesko Absolut, a carbon-fiber beast modified to the edge of sanity, rocketed down a winding coastal road. The black asphalt, damp with sea air, gleamed under the sharp LED headlights, illuminating the narrow path flanked by steep cliffs on one side and a gaping chasm to the furious sea on the other. This was a street race, of course. Illegal, dangerous, and very, very stupid. Precisely why Thomas was doing it.
"You can barely keep up, Julian!" Thomas yelled into his helmet communicator, a wild grin plastered across his face.
In his rearview mirror, the flashing lights of a Pagani Huayra flickered in response. Julian, one of his many wealthy 'friends,' always tried to rival him in everything, from business to women. But on the track, Julian was merely a shadow.
"The sky doesn't look good, Tom," Julian's voice came through, slightly anxious, laced with static. "This storm came out of nowhere."
Thomas glanced up through the car's glass roof. The sky, which had been indigo at sunset, had now transformed into a pitch-black canvas covered in turbulent violet clouds. Thunder rumbled in the distance, its sound barely audible above the roar of his twin-turbo V8, but its vibrations reached his bones. Rain began to fall, not a drizzle, but large drops that hammered the windshield like pebbles.
"A little rain won't hurt you, Princess," Thomas scoffed. "Or do you want to pull over and call your mommy?"
The challenge worked. The Pagani behind him roared louder, drawing closer. Thomas laughed. This was life. Those thin moments between complete control and total catastrophe. He pressed the accelerator deeper as his car entered a series of notoriously deadly 'S' curves. His tires desperately gripped the wet asphalt, technology and skill his only barrier between himself and death at the bottom of the chasm. Adrenaline flooded his system, sharpening his senses. Every detail became crystal clear: the scent of ozone in the air, the screech of tires nearly losing traction, the flashing light of a distant lighthouse.
Then, the sky split open.
It wasn't ordinary lightning. It was a blinding pillar of light, a finger of celestial wrath that seemed to tear the very fabric of reality. Its color wasn't white or yellow, but an unnatural blend of electric violet and blue. The bolt didn't strike the cliffs or the sea. It struck directly onto the hood of his Koenigsegg.
Time seemed to slow to a torment. Thomas didn't hear the sound; he felt it. A shockwave slammed into the car with the force of artillery, transforming the multi-million dollar carbon-fiber chassis into shrapnel. Metal melted and warped in an instant. The car's electrical system died completely, the brightly lit dashboard lights flickering wildly before going out forever. Total darkness enveloped him, punctuated by flashes of fire from the exploding engine.
Pain was the first thing to register in his shaken brain. A burning, tearing, crushing pain. He felt his bones shatter, jagged metal ripping through his flesh. The car itself was no longer speeding forward, but tumbling wildly to the side of the road, towards the abyss. The world became a kaleidoscope of shattered glass, fire, and darkness.
Gravity took over. His car, or what was left of it, plunged from the cliff. For a strange moment, in the silence after the explosion, he felt a sensation of weightlessness. His mind, surprisingly, became clear. So, this is the end, he thought, not with fear, but with a strange curiosity. All the money, all the women, all the parties, all the boredom. It all culminated in this moment, falling into darkness inside a burning metal coffin.
He had no regrets. It was hard to regret a life he had never truly valued. Perhaps his only regret was that he would never know what lay on the other side.
Then the car hit the rocks below.
The impact was a personal apocalypse. The darkness behind his eyes became absolute. The pain vanished, replaced by a cold, endless void. The consciousness of Thomas Vance, the golden prince of the Vance family, flickered like a candle flame caught in a gust of wind.
And then, it went out.
Non-existence was supposed to be peaceful. At least, that's what philosophers and poets always imagined. But for Thomas, this non-existence… was boring. It was the same darkness, the same emptiness, the same boredom that had plagued his life, only this time without the luxury of distractions. No time, no sound, no sensation. Just pure consciousness floating in infinite void.
How long had he been there? A second? A millennium? There was no way of knowing. He started to miss the pain. He missed the roar of the engine. He even missed the superficial conversations with Julian. Anything was better than this oppressive emptiness.
"Boring, isn't it?"
A voice shattered the eternal silence. It didn't come from a specific direction, but from everywhere at once, as if the void itself was speaking. The voice was cheerful, filled with a slightly mad humor, and had a circus show ringmaster quality to it.
Thomas, or whatever essence remained of him, tried to respond, but he had no mouth, no vocal cords.
"Oh, don't worry about that." The figure seemed to hear his thoughts. "Physical formalities aren't terribly important here. Consider this a waiting room. Or rather, an audition room."
Slowly, a form began to coalesce from the darkness before him. It wasn't majestic or terrifying as one might expect from a cosmic entity. The figure wore a flamboyant purple and green plaid wool suit, an oversized yellow bow tie, and unnaturally gleaming two-tone wingtip shoes. On his head sat a slightly tilted top hat. His face held a wide grin, revealing overly white teeth, and his eyes sparkled with infinite mischief. He looked like a cross between a 70s variety show host and a cartoon character who had escaped his celluloid.
"Who... what are you?" Thomas 'thought', a sense of shock finally penetrating his shroud of apathy.
The figure bowed gracefully, sweeping his hat from his head with a theatrical flourish. "Names are tricky concepts, aren't they? Humans love to label everything. Gods, demons, angels. So many boring categories." He paused, as if savoring the moment. "But if you must call me something, just call me Tom Jacker. Some in the stuffier cosmic circles call me 'The Anomaly'. I prefer 'Professional Chaos Engineer' or 'Existential Entertainment Provider'."
"God of Chaos?" Thomas tried to grasp the concept.
Tom Jacker laughed, a sound that echoed through the void. "Precisely! You're quick. I like that." He snapped his fingers, and suddenly, two Victorian-style armchairs materialized from nothingness. Tom Jacker settled casually into one, crossing his legs. "Please, have a seat," he said, gesturing to the empty chair. Strangely, Thomas felt himself have a form again, and he found himself sitting in the chair opposite the eccentric deity.
"So... I'm dead," Thomas said. It wasn't a question.
"Dead as a doornail!" Tom Jacker exclaimed cheerfully. "Spectacularly so, if I may say. Lightning strike? So cliché, but the execution... chef's kiss! I was idly Browse countless little realities, and I saw you, driving like a maniac, so utterly bored with your perfect life. And I thought, 'This man needs a little spice in his life. Or, well, in his death'."
"You killed me?" A chill ran through Thomas's consciousness.
"Killed you? No, no. I merely... gave a nudge. A little artistic touch to the laws of probability. That lightning bolt was going to strike there anyway, perhaps in the next hundred years. I merely advanced the schedule a bit. Consider it an invitation," Tom Jacker explained, waving his hand dismissively.
Thomas didn't know what to feel. Anger? Fear? Strangely, all he felt was an overwhelming curiosity. This was the least boring thing that had ever happened to him.
"An invitation to what?"
Tom Jacker's eyes gleamed brighter. "To a show! You see, Thomas Vance, this universe is run by Order. Predictability. Cause and effect. Destiny. Oh, it's so, so dull! I, on the other hand, am a huge fan of chaos. The unpredictable variable. The anomaly that gives the gods of destiny a headache. And you, my friend, are a perfect anomaly candidate."
The god leaned forward, his grin widening. "I'm going to give you a second chance. Not the same life, of course. Where's the fun in that? No, I'm going to send you somewhere else. Or rather, to many places. With some... new toys."
He snapped his fingers again. In the air between them, two translucent blue panels appeared. They glowed with a soft light, displaying familiar yet strange icons.
"These," Tom Jacker said with the air of a proud salesman, "are your personal Anomaly System. A parting gift from yours truly."
He pointed to the first panel, which had a heart-shaped icon. "This is the Hentai App. A straightforward and to-the-point name, wouldn't you agree? Activate this on any woman, and she will see you as the center of her world. She will love you, obey you, and do anything you desire. Of course, she'll still act normal around others, so no one will suspect a thing. A very useful tool for... building relationships."
Thomas's own grin began to mirror the god's.
"But," Tom Jacker continued, holding up a finger, "here's the fun part. After you... 'solidify your relationship' with her, you'll be granted the opportunity to copy one of her abilities. Bloodline limits, magic spells, fighting skills, whatever makes her special. Only one per person, so choose wisely! And the system is smart enough. If you gain a superior ability of the same type, the weaker one will automatically be replaced. No clutter here, just pure efficiency!"
Then, Tom Jacker pointed to the second panel, which displayed a compass icon surrounded by stars. "And this is the Multiverse App. This allows you to travel to countless fictional worlds. Anime, movies, TV series... all those stories humans consider figments of imagination, are actually existing realities out there somewhere. Imagine the possibilities! There's a little rule, however. Once you travel, the app will enter a cooldown period of one standard Earth year. So, make your time in each world count."
Thomas stared at the panels, his mind racing faster than his Koenigsegg. The possibilities were so vast, so limitless, that all his wealth and power in his previous life seemed like dust.
"There's one more thing," Tom Jacker said, and his smile became utterly mischievous. "A safety net. Because it would be a shame for my new toy to break too quickly."
He snapped his fingers a third time. Thomas felt a strange sensation flow through his essence, a feeling that was pliable, elastic, and utterly absurd.
"I'm giving you the Tom the Cat Template. Yes, from the cartoon," the god said, chuckling with amusement. "From now on, you are essentially immortal. You can be blown up, flattened, sliced into pieces, or dropped off a cliff... again. You will always return to your original form. But, and this is my favorite part, you will feel everything. Every agonizing second of pain. Isn't that hilarious?"
Thomas imagined himself flattened into a pancake before inflating back to normal. Strangely, he felt no horror. He began to laugh. A deep, genuine laugh, the first real laugh in years. This was insane. This was nonsensical. And this was the greatest thing he had ever heard.
"I accept," Thomas said without hesitation.
Tom Jacker clapped his hands together gleefully. "Excellent! I knew I liked you!" He stood from his chair. "Alright, I suppose the audition is over. Time for the opening act. I'm sending you to a random first world, just to get things started."
The God of Chaos walked towards Thomas and clapped him on the shoulder. The void around them began to tremble and crack like glass. Colors and sounds from unimaginable places began to seep in.
"Just one piece of advice from me, Thomas Vance," Tom Jacker whispered in his ear, his breath smelling of ozone and madness. "Don't be boring."
With a final snap of his fingers, Thomas's world shattered into a million pieces. He felt himself pulled through a chaotic vortex of sensation, a swirling tunnel of reality. Then, everything went white.
And he awoke with a thud in a filthy, smelly back alley, a pounding head and a wide grin on his face.
The first thing that brought Thomas fully to awareness was the smell. An unpleasant concoction of rotting garbage, stagnant sewage water, and damp concrete. It was a scent utterly alien to a nose accustomed to expensive perfumes, leather car interiors, and the clean air of his penthouse. He opened his eyes. The sky above was a dull grey patch, framed by the brick walls of two towering buildings. He lay on a pile of torn trash bags, their contents spilling slightly around him.
A small laugh escaped his lips. From a wrecked Koenigsegg at the bottom of a cliff to a trash heap in a back alley. Tom Jacker truly had a unique sense of humor.
With a fluid motion, Thomas got up. He patted down his clothes, the designer suit he'd worn for the race. Strangely, it was perfectly clean, no rips, no bloodstains, not even a single wrinkle. As if the horrific accident had never happened. His body felt the same. No lingering pain, no bruises, no broken bones. He felt more than good. He felt strong, brimming with a pulsating energy he'd never experienced before.
He stared at his hands, turning them over in the dim light. They looked normal. But he knew they weren't. This was a body that had been shattered and remade by the will of a mad god.
Curiosity overwhelmed him. Across from him was a solid, grimy brick wall. Without hesitation, Thomas stepped forward and swung a punch with all his might into the wall.
CRACK!
A sharp, stinging pain exploded from his knuckles, shooting up his arm. It was a real pain, a pain that made him wince and instinctively pull his hand back. For a moment, he thought he had miscalculated. But then he saw the result.
The brick wall was cracked, with a small crater formed at the point of impact. Several brick fragments fell to the ground. Then, he looked at his hand. No scratches. No bruises. His skin was intact. The sharp pain had already faded to a dull throb, and even that throb quickly vanished, as if it had never been there.
"Tom the Cat Template," he mumbled to himself, a grin starting to form. He felt the strange elasticity within him, as if his physicality was a concept that could be bent rather than a rigid reality. This was going to be incredibly useful.
As he was admiring his handiwork, a familiar translucent blue panel reappeared before his eyes. It floated gently, not obscuring his view of the real world, but clearly present, awaiting his attention.
Neatly arranged sentences appeared on the screen.
{Anomaly System Activated.}
{Welcome, User: Thomas Vance.}
{Status: Alive. Physical Condition: Perfect.}
{Active Template: Cartoon ( Tom the Cat).}
{Installed Apps: [Hentai App], [Multiverse App].}
This was confirmation. It was all real. His conversation with Tom Jacker, his death, his new powers. All real. A pure, unadulterated joy bubbled up in his chest. This was the adrenaline he had been searching for all along, a game with the highest stakes.
With his mind, he tried to interact with the panel. He focused on the starry compass icon, the [Multiverse App].
The panel flickered and displayed a new message. {Multiverse App currently on cooldown. Next travel available in: 364 days, 23 hours, 57 minutes.}
One year. So, he was stuck in this world for a full year. The limitation didn't disappoint him. Instead, it gave him a timeframe. A year to explore, a year to experiment, a year to gather power before he leaped to the next board game. It was more than enough.
Next, he turned his attention to the main prize, the provocative heart icon: the [Hentai App]. He selected it.
The interface changed to a simpler one. There were only a few lines of text.
{App Status: Active.}
{Targeting Mode: Off.}
{Controlled Individuals: 0.}
{Ability Log: Empty.}
Simple, efficient, and filled with terrifying potential. He knew what he had to do. He had to activate the targeting mode, find a woman, and utter his command. The concept was so simple yet so powerful it made him a little dizzy. The power to reshape someone's will to his liking.
However, there was a more pressing issue. He had no money, no identity, and no idea where he was. He was a ghost, a non-entity in this alien world. First priority was survival. Second priority was to thrive.
Thomas took a deep breath, steadying his racing mind. He was no longer a pampered playboy who had everything served to him. He was a survivor now. A predator. He stepped out of the shadows of the alley, his eyes squinting as the pale afternoon light greeted him.
The world outside was so vibrant and foreign. Buildings had a different architectural style, curved roofs and intricate signboards. The streets were filled with people, most of them teenagers in matching school uniforms. Shop signs and advertisements on buildings were written in characters he had never seen before. They were Japanese characters.
{Basic translation function active}, a small notification popped up in the corner of his vision as he stared at a large signboard. Instantly, the foreign characters became comprehensible in his mind. 'Pachinko & Slot' read the sign.
He was in Japan. Tom Jacker had thrown him to the other side of the world.
He stood at the street corner, absorbing everything. The distinct honking of cars, the strange ringtones of cell phones, the chatter of a language he didn't understand yet somehow could grasp the gist of thanks to the system. He was an outsider in every sense. His height, his European features, his dark blonde hair, and his sharp blue eyes made him stand out in the crowd. Several passing girls glanced at him shyly, whispering among themselves.
In his past life, such attention was commonplace. Now, it held an entirely new meaning. Every gaze was a possibility. Every passing woman was a potential target, a reservoir of power waiting to be unlocked.
He began to walk aimlessly, his hands tucked into his pockets. He needed to observe, to learn, and to plan his first move. How to get money in this world without documents? Theft was an obvious option, and with his Cartoon Template, he could get away with almost anything. But that was crude and inelegant. He preferred using more subtle tools.
His mind went back to the Hentai App. Perhaps it wasn't just a tool for acquiring power, but also for survival. A compliant cashier in a convenience store could easily 'forget' to log a few banknotes. A hotel manager could give him the best room without asking questions. The possibilities were endless.
As he pondered these darker options, his eyes fell on a café across the street. Its name was 'Café Tomorrow'. Through its large glass windows, he could see a cozy interior and a few customers enjoying coffee. Behind the counter, a young waitress was at work.
She had shoulder-length brown hair tied in a ponytail, and she moved with quiet efficiency. She wasn't as stunning as the models or actresses Thomas used to date, but there was a simple charm about her. And most importantly, she was alone behind the counter. An easy target for a first test.
A decision formed in his mind. He would start small. Test the waters before he dove into the depths.
Thomas crossed the street, his stride filled with newfound confidence. This was no longer the confidence born of wealth and status. This was the confidence of a man holding the keys to control the world at his fingertips.
As he pushed open the café door and a small bell chimed above him, the waitress looked up and smiled kindly. "Irasshaimase," she said. Welcome.
Thomas smiled back, a smile he had perfected over years to disarm and charm. But this time, behind the smile, there was a cold, calculating intent. Before his eyes, a mental command flashed in his mind, directed at the system interface only he could see.
{Activate Targeting Mode.}
The world before him didn't change, but a nearly invisible, translucent targeting reticle was now centered on the unsuspecting waitress.
The real game was about to begin.