Chapter Text
Victor Manh.
The "Manh" is supposed to be "Mạnh," pronounced with a heavy low tone like "Mahng." It means Strength. Power.
His parents gave him that name with high hopes, praying their son would grow up to live up to it. But Manh's life has been anything but that.
One year after his birth, Manh was hit by a strange fever that nearly took his life. The doctors told his parents to be prepared for the worst. They said nothing, simply accepting the fate of their son. Somehow, Manh recovered at the very last minute. Everyone called it a "miracle," but Manh thinks it was probably just dumb luck.
In his elementary school year, Manh had a small crush on the girl sitting next to him. All she did was hand him a textbook with a gentle smile. Manh was too young, too foolish, and far too cowardly to know of these feelings called "love" at the time. By middle school, when Manh realized he had a crush on her, they had gone their separate ways. She was in a totally different school, a totally different city, from him. Manh could only sigh at his own stupidity and move on
High school was unremarkable until that day...
One day, Manh and his mother were going out shopping. In a spit of a second, Manh saw a truck speeding toward his mother as she crossed the road. And then... And then...
Manh woke up in an unfamiliar bed. His father sits beside his bed. Then, the news dropped: His mom died.
A dumbfuck truck driver blew through a red light and ran away from the cops, then crashed. Three people died from the truck. His mother was one of them.
The weight didn't hit Manh until much later, after the funeral arrangements ended. Manh collapsed onto his bed exhausted. He screamed, wept, and blamed himself. None of it brought her back.
The final year of high school wasn't any better. Aside from school and the pressure of going to college/university, his dad has now become an alcoholic. He didn't hit or shout at Manh. In fact, he did nothing besides just sitting on the sofa, drowning himself in cheap alcohol for the entire day. He got fired a long time ago, most of the money from his savings and insurance from his mother's side.
Then came the call during middle-period class: his father had been hospitalized. The doctors said that years of drinking had turned his internal organs to mush. The treatment costs were astronomical; even selling the house wouldn't cover a fraction of it.
After that day, Manh and his dad barely talk. Whenever Manh visited, his father would fly into a bitter rage, shouting at him to stop wasting time visiting him and go study. One evening, the shouting spiraled so far out of control that nurses had to drag them apart.
A week later, his father was dead. He hadn't died in his bed. He had snuck out of the hospital in the middle of the night, walked to a nearby overlook, and stepped off the edge.
Some of his father's old friends help him with the funeral and papers for inheritance, even offering Manh to live with them. Manh politely refused them.
Years gone. By his late twenties, Manh lived like a ghost. He took a low-profile café job, spoke only when spoken to, and actively avoided trouble. He believed that if he never let anyone close and never fought for anything, nothing could ever be taken from him again.
Until the woman walked into the café.
She was stunning and charismatic. For an hour, she sat at his table, engaging him in effortless conversation that briefly made him feel human again. But as she smiled and walked out the door, Manh felt a cold void in his pocket. His wallet was gone.
Years of bottled-up frustration surged to him. It wasn't about the money; it was the sheer audacity of her to steal right under him. He sprinted out of the shop, spotting her near a busy intersection. He marched up and demanded his wallet back. She played innocent, putting on a confused face and crying for help. A crowd gathered, eyeing Manh like a predator harassing a woman. Bullshit
"She stole my damn wallet!" Manh snapped, trying to pull her clutched purse away to prove it.
Confusion turned to chaos. As they wrestled over the strap, the woman panicked. Gathering all her weight, she shoved him hard.
Manh stumbled backward off the curb, losing his balance and falling straight into the oncoming traffic of the crossroads.
As he hit the asphalt, the glaring high beams of a speeding truck lit up the sky above him. The same roaring engine that had taken his mother years ago was now closing in on him.
And so, the quiet life of Victor Manh came to a brutal end.
"Truly, what a sad life you have lived. Victor Manh." A booming voice echoed across the endless white void of nothingness.
Manh scowled, his head throbbing. He had died. He had felt the crushing weight of the truck hit his chest; he should be gone. So why was he here? Why was an invisible voice speaking to him?
"Young one. This is the Nowhere—a place of solitude and my own private realm." The unseen voice boomed again. "As for who I am..."
A brief, heavy pause hung in the air.
"You may call me... God."
Manh’s mind froze. Under normal circumstances, if anyone had claimed to be God, he would have rolled his eyes at the absurd joke. Yet the sheer gravity pressing down on his chest right now was undeniable. It made his knees buckle, forcing him onto his hands and knees.
"Right." Manh pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to parse the impossible. "You are God. The God."
A heavy silence settled in the empty air, as if the entity didn't feel the need to repeat itself. Manh took a deep, shaky breath.
"O mighty God... could you please tell me why I'm here?" Manh tried to sound respectful, though he cringed at his own awkward tone.
"Young one who goes by Manh." The voice reverberated. "I have taken an interest in you after your passing. You are a subject of great fascination to me."
Manh’s thoughts went into a tailspin. Fascinating was the last word anyone would use to describe him. His entire life had nothing short of misery and dullness.
"With all due respect, God... I don't think I'm anything special." Manh retorted softly. "There are billions of people on Earth. Millions of them must be far more worthy of your interest than me."
"Your mortal life was indeed simple and bland." The voice boomed back. "However, your journey through the worlds to come will be a tale worthy of legend."
Manh stared into the void.
Worlds to come? Legend? He opened his mouth to object, but the entity cut him off.
"You shall venture across the vast sea of worlds, entering realms beyond your own, each distinct, yet bound by the same thread of fate."
"Why?" Manh’s voice cracked. "Why can't I just go to the afterlife? Why can't I just... be gone? Why make me do this?"
His voice sounded broken. How was he supposed to argue with the creator of the universe?
"Manh." The voice said, and the tone became sterner. "You think so little of yourself and of the life you lived. I offer you a second chance, and your instinct is to refuse it?"
The words carried such crushing weight that Manh felt his soul shudder.
"Your time is not up." The voice explained. "Your presence here is proof that your mortal death was not your end. Not when your heart still screams to live."
Manh slumped, unable to process the words.
"Fear not, young one. You will not be sent out naked. I have bestowed a gift upon you."
A translucent crimson window snapped into existence directly in front of Manh’s face.
[CHAOS GACHA SYSTEM INITIALIZED] [USER: VICTOR MANH]
Manh gasped, stumbling back a step.
"It is a system that grants power drawn from beyond." The voice instructed. "Each time you achieve a significant feat, you will earn another spin. For your beginning, I grant you a free trial. Give it a spin."
[YOU HAVE ONE ROLL AVAILABLE. SPIN THE WHEEL?]
Manh stared at the glowing prompt. He knew the concept of Gacha games from his previous life; a predatory gamble disguised as fun to bleed people dry for trash rewards.
"Spin." Manh muttered, praying his voice command worked.
A sharp chime echoed through the void, like a wheel spinning on an old game show, before coming to a sudden click.
- [Sharingan]
|Epic Ability|
Naruto - Allows you to transform your eyes into the Sharingan, the signature trait of the Uchiha Clan. While the Sharigan is active, you possess greatly enhanced visual prowess and the ability to memorize any Martial Move and Spell you see performed in front of you, provided you are able to replicate its effects. And you are able to place targets under hypnosis whose effectiveness scales between the power difference between you and the target, and they will snap out of it with a strong enough shock. Your Sharingan starts at one tomoe and can be increased and evolved through training and severe mental trauma.
Holy shi-
Can I even say that while God is here?
Manh’s eyes widened. A very OP power. A rare, sudden spark of confidence crept up to him. Perhaps this second life wouldn't be a nightmare after all.
Then, a second chime rang, cold and jarring.
- [Sadism]
|Severity 11|
You really like hurting people; you are not a serial killer or anything, but hurting people just triggers that good part of your brain. And the more you refrain from abusing people, the more restless and uncomfortable you get.
|Resolve: Acquire Adept or above Discipline, or acquire a rare rank above mental/mind strengthening trait|
The faint smile wiped completely off Manh’s face.
"What... what is this?" Manh stammered. "Why did I get a curse?!"
"Chaos is never free, Victor Manh." The voice boomed. "For every blessing you pull from the wheel, Chaos claims its tax."
Before Manh could digest the information, another panel materialized.
[QUEST LOG INITIALIZED]
[MAIN QUESTS]
Ongoing (1)
⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛: HIDDEN
Completed (0)
Failed (0)
[SIDE QUESTS]
Ongoing (0)
Completed (0)
Failed (0)
"I have implemented a ledger to guide you." The voice continued. "It will encourage you to explore, act, and engage with the worlds you inhabit."
"And if I refuse?" Manh asked, staring up into the blinding white light. "What if I just sit down and do nothing?"
Silence. Absolute, crushing silence.
Manh felt an invisible gaze bore straight through his soul. He had no leverage here. He was a mortal standing before the creator of the universe. Manh was once again trapped in a situation where he couldn't fight, couldn't run, and could only endure... Just like when his mother was taken by the truck or when his father stepped off the cliff.
Sensing his uncertainty, the voice softened slightly.
"Manh. I understand this is overwhelming." The entity admitted. "So, let us make a deal."
Manh blinked. "A deal?"
"Complete your journey in your first destination." The voice offered. "If, upon the conclusion of that world's journey, you still desire eternal rest in the afterlife, I will grant it without condition. Should you perish in that world, the choice remains yours as well."
A deal with God. At least it isn't a deal with the Devil.
Manh processed the terms. Survive one world, and he could choose to end it all peacefully. For the first time since he died, a faint sense of control returned to him.
"One world." Manh said softly. "Alright. I accept."
The oppressive weight in the air dissolved instantly.
"A wise choice, Victor Manh." The voice boomed, resounding like a final blessing. "You have been given a chance to live again. You will be blessed. You will be cursed. But they are not chains to bind you—they are the tools of your forge. Step forth into the infinite!"
The white void shattered like glass, pulling Victor down into a swirling vortex of color and noise. This is it. The new beginning of Victor Manh.
[On the Road]