The world around me twisted as I stood at the threshold between two realities: one where the Wheel of Faith spun in its perfect, orderly chaos, and the other... well, it's French. You know, baguettes, berets, and way too much cheese. Crossover, baby. And guess where I'm hiding the stolen Kickstarter budget?
"Right here," I whisper to myself, looking around at the fractured rift between dimensions. "Well, the universe is about to collide, and with a little luck... so is my plan."
Of course, I'm not alone. My hideout is a narrow sliver of dimension, wedged between realities like a forgotten piece of lint in your jacket pocket. It's not nothing, it's something – a place where the threads of all universes brush against each other but never quite touch.
It's perfect. Almost.
It can't actually be perfect, since it's not me. And as we all know, you're either perfect, or you're not me.
I glance over my shoulder, half-expecting someone from the Primordials to come charging after me. Yeah, they're slow. But they're persistent. Like a bad rash you can't quite scratch. Still, not even their fancy Avatars can keep up with me when I'm working my angles.
Cue the 80s synthwave music, as I take my first step into this mess.
"Ahhh, this is it," I say with a dramatic flourish, tossing the stolen budget – now in the form of a money bag filled with coins of gold – into the air. There's no audience to applaud, but that's fine. Not like I need them to. But they could help with the Kickstarter. A little more cash and maybe we can make this place a lot cooler. A holographic dragon or something.
I whisper, "Hey, back the campaign. Or at least, just buy a comic. I promise it'll be way better than this meta-shtick I keep doing."
The budget soars into a small vortex, disappearing into the center. I chuckle to myself, but let's be real – I'm mostly just buying time. With the Primordials so busy trying to figure out who's responsible for their missing funds, they've forgotten one crucial thing: I'm genius-level sneaky.
And that's like, sneaky-sneaky.
Before I disappear into the rift, I plug in the Kickstarter one more time. "Oh, and don't forget: Back the campaign. You want me to make this into an anime, right? Imagine all the wildness. But hey, you won't get that unless you… help out. You know, by hitting that stretch goal. Wink."
I definitely did not just verbally say "wink." No, you're imagining things. Let's get you to bed, grandpa.
The portal pulses, and following a sound like the worst static of a radio channel, I'm gone.
The next few minutes are a blur.
For all my dimensional travel expertise, I sometimes forget how dizzying it is to leap between planes. As the rift closes behind me, the sense of vertigo kicks in like I'm doing one of those dangerous amusement park rides. Not fun. But hey, it's worth it for the stash. I have to hand it to myself: I really am quite the planner.
There's a moment of stillness. Silence. The world here is in a frozen limbo, like a warehouse that hasn't been inventoried in a thousand years. And I find myself strangely at peace, knowing I've put the stolen budget in a spot the Primordials would never think to look. Take that, old gods.
The soft hum of energy surrounds me as I start walking. There's an odd, unfamiliar smell in the air – a blend of ozone and… cheese? Yep, I'm definitely in the French Verse now. Can't say I'm upset about it.
Though the dimensions are technically supposed to be in an equilibrium, there's something about this place that just feels... right. I mean, really right.
"Now, let's figure out the next part of the plan. You know, keep the budget hidden until I can start making moves on the anime," I say aloud, like I'm not aware I'm just talking to myself.
A lone figure stirs ahead, the light refracting strangely off her spiked boots. She's not much taller than me, but there's a look in her eyes like she's seen too many dimensions fall apart. Or maybe, she just knows too much about Kickstarter rewards.
Definitely a Voidwalker. You know, super cool races that can travel the Wheel of Faith multiverse at will.
"Are you... the one?" she asks, voice trembling ever so slightly, but not with fear. It's more so curiosity.
I smell anxiety issues.
"Uhh... yeah, sure, you could say I'm the one," I say with all the flair of a character in a cheesy 90s action movie. "I'm the guy who swiped a budget from the Primordials, hid it in an interdimensional safehouse, and is now–"
"Making a Kickstarter campaign to fund an anime," she interrupts, deadpan.
Anxiety issues my sweet, juicy, maleficent arse.
"Exactly! You get me!" I snap my fingers dramatically. "Now, if you want to get in on the action, I've got rewards, merch, and exclusive access to some seriously cool lore coming soon. So, how 'bout it?"
She doesn't seem impressed.
"What's your angle?" she asks.
Oh, great, now I've got to talk about me and my eternal quest to turn a pile of stolen loot into an animated empire. Fun.
"Listen, I'm trying to fund the best anime, comic, and gaming content in all the multiverses," I explain, "and– hold on a darn second." I glance at her more seriously. "You're not already a backer, are you?"
She just raises an eyebrow.
"Okay, okay, fine," I mutter, feeling somewhat embarrassed. "I'm just a really big deal and–" I try again, lifting my chin. "Look, if people don't help fund this, I might lose the budget to someone else, and we don't want that. Trust me. You want to see this universe hit its full potential."
"Sure," she says, walking away. "What's your Kickstarter link?"
"Now we're talking!" I cheer. Progress, finally. And maybe the campaign will even get a little push from this mysterious mercenary.
I use my Chrono Grace ability to decelerate time, mimicking refraction and creating a holograph.
The link should be... https://thewheeloffaith.kckb.me/dbad82fc
"Use that link specifically. I don't get credit otherwise."
The author needs to get that bag.
The lady analyses the link, as if memorising it, and doesn't look back as she strides off into the weird, distorted landscape. As much as I'd love to follow her, there's work to be done.
I take out my phone and pretend to scroll through my notifications. And guess what? A couple of stretch goals have been met. Not quite as much as I'd like, but hey, we're getting there.
Before I can get too comfortable, a notification from the Kickstarter Team pops up: The next stretch goal has been unlocked! A new character will be introduced into the story!
"Ahh, yes, thank you, dear supporters. Who said I don't take care of my backers?"
I pocket my phone, the smile widening on my face. This is just the beginning. Once that anime starts production, I'll be rolling in dimensions and, dare I say it, cheese.
A quick glance around. Time to get back to the task at hand – I've got a stash to protect.
But hey, don't forget to tell your friends about this epic journey through the multiverse. We've still got a lot of goals to hit before we get to the good stuff. So keep clicking that link, folks!
But before I can start basking in my impending anime empire, the interdimensional excuse of a ground beneath me quivers. Not a full-on earthquake, mind you – more like a subtle warning, the kind that says, "Hey, buddy, don't get too comfy." The air ripples, and a faint whisper echoes around me.
"Serpentine... you can't hide forever."
I freeze mid-strut. Oh, great. A dramatic villain moment, just what this chapter needed.
"Primordials," I mutter under my breath, rolling my eyes. "Can't live with 'em, can't steal their funds without them sending ominous threats. Typical."
The air distorts, forming a faint hologram of him – The Creator's pet Avatar. You know, the one who's basically a walking DMV line in terms of charisma.
"Serpentine, return the budget, and perhaps we'll go easy on you," Fate says in that monotone voice that makes paint drying look like a Broadway show.
I laugh, loudly. Maybe too loudly. "Oh, sweet summer Fate, I'm building a legacy here. You think I'm scared of a cosmic slap on the wrist? Please."
The Avatar flickers, clearly unimpressed.
"Fine," he snaps, voice dripping with disdain. "Enjoy your little game, thief. But remember, chaos always catches up."
"Yeah, yeah. Don't forget to like, comment, and subscribe!" I shout as his image fades.
With that, I straighten my metaphorical tie and return to business. Because if there is one thing I've learned in this multiverse-spanning journey, it's this: no matter what happens, the show must go on. And the show? It's me.