Getting hit by a bus was not the first thing Frank expected when he was on his way to work. The day had started out like any other; Frank woke up at the crack of dawn thanks to his alarm and had gone through the motions of getting ready for work. He brushed his teeth, showered, changed, and even grabbed the same kind of strawberry yogurt in a tube he had always eaten as a buffer before his real breakfast.

It was not like he was on his phone or anything, Frank looked both ways before he crossed the street as was habit. No, what caused Frank to get hit by a bus was not what he did, but what another individual did. Frank saw the bus coming. In fact, he specifically stopped walking before the sidewalk ended so he would not get hit by it as it raced down the street. Getting shoved from behind was certainly not something he could have even imagined happening to him. But here he was, dead seconds later.

Frank heaved out a mocking sigh as he looked around the endless white room he now stood in. "Is this some sort of waiting room for the dead?" He took a quick glance at the cause of his death, a figure that stood nearby. A large blond teen, roughly 6'3" with an athletic build, who had not only tripped, but had also knocked Frank into the street. It was a disastrous end for both of them. "How do you even go about getting both of us killed and not even look a bit remorseful?"

The teen tried to speak, obviously noticing his stares, but before he could he was interrupted by a disembodied voice that sounded like it came from every direction all at once. "Welcome, fortunate souls! Rejoice for I am gracious enough to allow your rebirth." The words the voice used caused Frank to scoff. At the word 'rebirth' he instantly thought he was dreaming, but he vividly remembered the brief pain from getting hit.

"Actually," Frank thought, "It could be that I'm dreaming. I could be lying in a hospital in a coma and my mind had cobbled together a story for me to play out as I live the rest of my days eating through a tube." Frank was content with thinking that, but the voice had other ideas.

"You are not in a hospital, Frank. And yes, this is exactly like every isekai story you have read." The voice boomed out, but seeing as the teen didn't react, Frank thought maybe it was only directed towards him.

Frank wanted to refute that his own mind could also be playing god so of course it would know what he was thinking, but he decided to hold his tongue. It was not like he could even speak in the first place, he had tried once when he appeared in the white space when he tried to scream at the large teen, who didn't even react to his face that contorted in anger and his frantically waving arms, for getting him killed.

Frank looked over at the teen and could see the excitement practically radiating off him. He had a grin that was ear to ear and his eyes were practically crescents. The voice continued to speak, and this time it had Frank's attention. "Maybe he reads the same kind of novels as I do," Frank rationalized to himself.

"You both will be given a class and all you have to do is touch it and you will be transported to one of the many worlds I manage where you can live out your life and do what you want." Frank felt as if the next words were directed at him, "I hope you can provide me with some entertainment."

Almost instantly after he spoke, words appeared before Frank in a box that was all-so-common in stories nowadays. It was overdone and overused, but Frank enjoyed the trope nevertheless. The words [Hero] floated before Frank and he could not help but grin much the same as the teen did before. He looked over at the blond in question as he slowly reached for the box and Frank's eyes narrowed as a blur moved toward him.

The teen's form collided with his own and he watched in horror as tried and failed to touch the word [Hero] before the teen did. As Frank hit the floor, the teen began to fade from sight and another box appeared before him. The box containing the word [Error] did not bode well and Frank did nothing but lay on the floor as he looked up at it.

He let out a heavy breath of air and mentally screamed out, "Fuck!" Twice had the blond ruined things for him and Frank was starting to take it personally. He rolled to his left then pushed himself up and decided to walk over to the spot where that asshole had been.

There was another box, and the word it read was [Artificer]. If this class was anything like the one from a certain tabletop game Frank enjoyed playing, it was going to be a great class. But all classes paled in comparison to the [Hero] class. With a bit of hesitation, Frank touched the floating box and as his fingers connected with it, the scene around him changed instantly.

Gone was the endless white room, and instead was a decently sized circular hall. Frank took a moment to look around and noticed it was mostly empty save for himself. Along the stone brick that made up the walls were sconces, lit by a strange blue flame. Frank stood in the center of a runic circle, the classic summoning circle if he had to hazard a guess.

Directly in front of Frank was the exit of the hall, something he could say with confidence as it was the only exit in sight and it also had a green carpet that served as a walkway. The carpet was embroidered with gold trimmings and more runic symbols.

"Huh…" Frank would have thought there would be at least some sort of guard or someone given the circle was activated to bring him here but there was not a soul in sight. Frank stepped forward and moved along the carpet following the path laid out for him. The halls were basic and lackluster. There were no special ornaments nor trophies. Just bare walls of stone that had the occasional sconce to provide light.

After a bit of walking, Frank finally found himself in the company of others. The path he had traversed led into a quite large open room, one that was accompanied by an indoor balcony that overlooked the room. Atop said balcony was a short and portly raven-haired man.

He wore one of the gaudiest outfits Frank had frankly ever seen. It was a bright red suit with a green tie. Accented—terribly Frank might add—was a myriad of medals and other gold trinkets. And to top off the whole thing was the rather large gold crown encrusted with all sorts of gems.

Frank instantly knew who this was, or rather who he should be. This man was the king, and if the men in full golden armor that dotted the balcony and room were anything to go by they were in the middle of a session of some sort.

With a quick glance around the room, Frank noted all the red tapestries. They were emblazoned with embroidered green blobs that he had to honestly squint to even tell it was in fact a lion. Shifting his gaze, Frank looked down at the small mass of people gathered below the balcony. Instantly as his gaze landed on him, Frank's eyes narrowed.

There, not far from him was the bastard who not only got him killed but had also stolen his class. Frank noted that for some reason none of the guards had noticed him, which seemed like a major security issue, but if Frank was being honest with himself, he did not really care.

Coughing into his hand to get everyone's attention seemed to make every guard tense and quickly turn to the source of the noise. Frank simply smiled and waved, though he faltered for a bit as the fucker turned and smiled brightly at him. "Why is he looking at me like that?" Frank could not help but ask himself as the teen ogled him.

The guards quickly moved to surround Frank and he put his arms up showing that he meant no harm to anyone. "Guards!?? What is the meaning of this? How did this intruder get in here!?" The possible king bellowed out loud, his face flush red as he stood pointing at Frank.

Before any of the guards could speak to their own defense, the weasel turned to face the flustered man and bowed before speaking. "Your Majesty! This is the other man I was speaking of. I had thought the god we spoke to would have sent him somewhere else, but it seems as if he brought both of us to your glorious kingdom to aid you."

Frank cringed at the words the blond had used, but inwardly felt relieved he wouldn't have to explain too much. Recognition filled the king's eyes and he coughed silently before righting himself. He waved his hands and one of the guards moved closer to Frank, ushering him to the center with the spawn of Satan.

After clearing his throat the king spoke once more, "So! Are you another [Hero]?" He looked at Frank and raised a brow before continuing, cutting off any chance Frank would have to respond to the question. "Say 'Status' and read off to us your class. Do not lie to me for one of my guards will be able to tell if you are lying."

"It seems like they can't read my status?" Not wanting any problems, Frank looked towards the blond who just nodded and smiled before Frank softly did as he was commanded, "Status."

[Name: Frank Cristuado

Class: Artificer

Title: N/A

Str: 10

Dex: 8

Con: 10

Int: 12

Wis: 10

Cha: 10

Luc: 10]

The screen that appeared before Frank was simple and bare-bones, much to his liking. Frank took a cursory glance at his stats before he said what he already knew to be his class. "My name is Frank Cristuado, your Majesty, and I am an [Artificer]."

Frank noticed a scowl briefly forming on the face of the king before his face returned to normal. He heard the parasite stifle a laugh and a guard actually let out a mocking snort. Frank's hand tightened into a fist. He couldn't help but grit his teeth as he noticed everyone seemed to think his class was a joke. Maybe it was because he wasn't a [Hero]? "Not like this was my intended job anyways!" Frank seethed in anger at the memory of the shitstain stealing his class.

Whatever the issue with his class, Frank already began to dread what was to come. He thought there was no way his luck could be average, something he assumed based on the consistent 10s he saw in his stats. With everything that was seemingly going wrong, it was probably better for Frank if he distanced himself from the golden-haired demon that had taken everything from him so far. Frank clenched his jaw and looked at the chubby king, awaiting the generic speel he was about to deliver.