Takumi Satou wanted a game. A wasp had other plans.
One bad sting. One catastrophic afterlife glitch. One very stressed cosmic IT engineer named John Isekai who is absolutely not admitting fault.
Now Takumi has one job: traverse faulty worlds, find ten Keys of Wisdom, and deliver them before God stops trusting John with the company servers. The rules change every world. The deaths stick for everyone except him.
Somewhere in the chaos is a white-haired elf girl who marked him with her enchantments and watched him die doing something catastrophically brave and stupid.
He remembers everything. She remembers hardly anything.
He's not chosen. He's not special. He's the nearest available dead teenager and the universe filed the cosmic paperwork before he could object.
He'll die many more times before this is over.
He already knows. He goes anyway.
This one started with a conversation about anime.
To wit, why don't isekai protagonists ever die stupidly enough. What if the deaths got progressively more embarrassing? What if the same guy kept cycling through the cosmos, accumulating the trauma and the skills and the memories of every single one, dying worse each time, getting back up anyway?
That was it. That was the whole thing.
The wasp, the keys, John Isekai and his catastrophically mismanaged server infrastructure, Fiora, the green tracksuit, God as an unfireable CEO — all of it snowballed from one question that took about forty seconds to ask and apparently several months to fully answer.
If you've ever felt like the universe was running a system you didn't get the documentation for, this one's for you.
If you haven't — give it time. (Takumi has plenty)
1love 4all,
rubo mirukawa
This one started with a conversation about anime.
To wit, why don't isekai protagonists ever die stupidly enough. What if the deaths got progressively more embarrassing? What if the same guy kept cycling through the cosmos, accumulating the trauma and the skills ...