Chapter 62: The Petty Goddess's Masterpiece

My office, once a place of dignified, divine labor, had been transformed into the command center for the most elaborate prank in multiversal history. The air, usually serene and filled with the gentle hum of cosmic energies, now crackled with the electric thrill of pure, unadulterated pettiness. I was hunched over my console, a manic grin plastered on my face, looking less like a goddess and more like a mad scientist on the verge of a breakthrough. Or, you know, a breakdown. The line is surprisingly thin.

“Okay, Celeste,” I said, cracking my knuckles with a series of sharp pops. “Project ‘Operation Make My Ex-Boyfriend Rue the Day He Was Born’ is a go. System designation: World #776-Aethelgard.”

“An inspiring title, Lady Akane,” my AI replied, her voice as placid as ever. “Logging the project. Initializing world-building parameters.”

A holographic interface shimmered into existence before me, a blank slate of a universe waiting for its creator’s touch. Aethelgard. It sounded appropriately dramatic, the kind of name Shoujo would write in the margins of his notebook surrounded by doodles of dragons and sad-looking eyeballs.

First, the lore. Every good isekai needs a rock-solid, completely unoriginal prophecy. I typed furiously, my fingers a blur. “Let’s see… ‘When the Crimson Moon bleeds across the sky for the seventh time, the land shall be plagued by the Shadow That Wears a Silly Hat…’” I paused, tapping my chin. “No, too on the nose. How about… ‘the Tyrant of Tedium’? Yes, perfect.”

I continued, giggling to myself. “‘A Hero of Radiant Sorrow shall descend from beyond the stars, his soul burdened by a tragic past and a genius that isolates him from his peers.’” I had to stop and wipe a tear from my eye. Oh, he was going to eat this up with a spoon. “‘He alone wields the power to gather the Seven Shards of Blah Blah Blah and defeat the Tyrant, bringing light back to the world, but at what cost to his own tormented heart?’”

“Prophecy logged,” Celeste droned. “It is… derivative, but functional.”

“It’s a masterpiece of the genre, Celeste, thank you very much.”

Next up: the ‘Hero’ himself. I dragged Shoujo’s soul-orb into the character creation module. His whiny essence pulsed before me. I started with his appearance. I made him handsome, I’ll admit. But not in an interesting way. I gave him the most generic, mass-produced ‘handsome anime protagonist’ face imaginable. Silky, slightly-too-long silver hair that would perpetually fall over one eye, piercing blue eyes that screamed ‘I have a dark and mysterious past,’ and a lean, athletic build. He would be named Silas. Just Silas. A one-word name was essential for any self-respecting, brooding hero.

Now for the fun part: the cheat skills. This was where the artistry came in. They had to sound incredible on paper but be utterly humiliating in practice.

My first creation was his weapon. [The Blade of Infinite Lament]. I gave it a SSS+ rating. “This legendary sword can cut through any material in existence,” I typed into the description. “It is sentient, wise, and eternally loyal to its master.” Then, I added the fine print. “Side effect: The sword is an aspiring poet and will loudly and dramatically recite its terrible, angsty poetry whenever it is drawn, especially during tense and serious moments. It is particularly fond of haikus about the futility of existence and sonnets about how no one understands its pain.”

I cackled, imagining Silas in a dramatic showdown with a demon lord, only for his sword to start bellowing, “A dark, lonely night / My edge is so very sharp / Is anyone there?”

Next, his social skill. Shoujo always thought he was a master of charisma. So, I gifted him [Aura of the Tortured Soul]. “This passive skill causes all who look upon the user to perceive him as a figure of immense depth and tragedy. They will be inexplicably drawn to his mysterious nature.” And the kicker: “Side effect: This aura also makes the user smell faintly but permanently of damp socks and old books. Furthermore, it compels people to offer him unsolicited, terrible advice, like telling him to ‘just cheer up a bit’ or asking if he’s tried chamomile tea for his cosmic angst.”

I was on a roll. For his tactical ability, I designed [Protagonist’s Path]. “This skill provides the user with an unerring sense of direction, guiding him towards his next objective along the most optimal route.” I giggled as I added the final touch. “The definition of ‘optimal’ is determined by the Goddess of Reincarnation for maximum narrative entertainment. This may include, but is not limited to, routes through active sewers, angry beehives, nudist colonies, and slapstick comedy routines.”

I leaned back, admiring my work. It was a symphony of suffering. He would be powerful, yes. He would succeed in his quest. But every victory would be so profoundly embarrassing that he’d wish he was back at the fountain with that banana peel.

“Now for the supporting cast,” I mused, pulling up the NPC creation tools. “Every hero needs a harem he can’t have.”

I designed the princess of Aethelgard, a beautiful and brilliant woman who was also a ruthless pragmatist. She would be intrigued by Silas’s power but utterly repulsed by his inability to articulate a single coherent economic policy. His brooding would just be a sign of poor leadership skills to her.

Then came the fiery elf warrior, a master of the blade. She would respect strength above all else, and would constantly challenge Silas to duels. She would, of course, find his sword’s poetry to be a tactical liability and a personal insult to her ears, dismissing him as a noisy amateur.

Finally, the shy, cute beast-kin healer. She would be the only one to fall for his act, but her idea of showing affection would be to bring him dead animals as gifts and try to groom his perfect silver hair with her tongue, as was customary for her tribe.

It was perfect. A world of frustration, populated by women who would find him fascinating for all the wrong reasons.

“Project is ready for implementation, Lady Akane,” Celeste said, a hint of what might have been digital pity in her voice. “Are you sure about this? The ethical subroutines are… flagging.”

“Celeste, my dear AI, ethics are for gods who don’t have cringey ex-boyfriends to deal with,” I said, stretching luxuriously in my chair. “This isn’t revenge. It’s a character-building exercise. I’m helping him grow as a person.”

I looked at the shimmering soul-orb, at the smug, self-satisfied energy it radiated. I remembered the ukulele song. A final, beautiful idea sparked in my mind. One last gift.

I added a final skill to his list. A hidden, passive one. [Theme Music of the Heart].

“Whenever the user experiences a strong emotion, appropriate background music will manifest audibly for all to hear. Triumphant moments will be accompanied by a heroic orchestra. Sad moments by a single, mournful violin.” I grinned, typing the last sentence. “Moments of romantic tension or attraction will be accompanied by a loud, obnoxious, and poorly-played ukulele.”

That was it. My masterpiece was complete.

With a flourish worthy of one of Jin’s dramatic poses, I slammed my hand down on the big, glowing ‘REINCARNATE’ button. Shoujo Akiyama’s soul vanished from my console, shot across the multiverse into the carefully crafted comedic cage I had built just for him.

I leaned back, put my feet up on my desk, and conjured a massive bowl of star-dusted popcorn.

“Celeste,” I said, my voice filled with joyous anticipation. “Put World #776-Aethelgard on the main screen. And turn up the volume. The show is about to begin.”