"So, what did you mean by 'the chosen one'?" I asked.
"Oh? Finally paying attention, are we?" The chess-patterned man chuckled softly and said, "The chosen one is simply that—chosen. You could say it's akin to being a favorite of fate."
Huh? No, no, wait, forget this nonsense about fate. How did I not die?
"Did I fall onto one of those flying squares?"
"Yes, in a sense. These squares lessen the impact of your fall. You landed on three of them, which prevented you from becoming a bloody pulp and allowed you to survive mostly unharmed."
"Where did they come from?"
"I created them unconsciously to liven up this place. Who could have expected them to save someone's life? The luck of the chosen one truly is extraordinary."
Hearing his peculiar explanation sent a chill down my spine. I looked up at the geometric shapes, scattered all around. They floated in the void like flying saucers.
"What exactly is the chosen one?"
I understood now how I survived, but the concept of being "chosen" made me feel uneasy.
"Oh, you still don't get it? Fine, I suppose I'll explain. Though it's a bit tedious, isn't it?"
"Do you know that the world is a story?"
"No."
The world is a story? That's a strange way to describe how the world works, but it does have a certain logic to it.
From another perspective, isn't history just a collection of stories?
"There's an old theory, told to me by someone who heard it from someone else. At their core, worlds are stories."
"There are countless worlds in the vast cosmos and perhaps even other universes—who knows? In any case, each world is its own 'story.' The flow of time and the unpredictable hand of fate drive these stories forward, fate is the fuel, the sustenance, and the engine for all stories."
"Take your planet, for example. I believe it's called 'Earth,' right? There are hundreds of thousands, if not millions or billions, of planets just like it. And each of these planets is a 'story' in its own right."
"Sometimes, the inhabitants of a planet live peacefully, with no significant developments, until their 'story' ends. But occasionally, there are anomalies, like now—where a planet awakens strange and extraordinary abilities within itself, or its inhabitants even venture into outer space, connecting with alien civilizations and races."
I found myself deeply intrigued. This was truly fascinating.
"I call this phenomenon the 'Theory of Evolution.'"
"The reason behind it is that the 'fate' of a world accumulates over time, perhaps over millions or billions of years. After this prolonged accumulation, fate can evolve the world, elevating it to a new level! Of course, there are many other details in this process, but that's not the main topic here."
"Your world, or as you call it, your 'planet,' is evolving right now."
With a faint "zoom," several images appeared in the air, pictures of ancient towers, pagodas, and Egyptian pyramids.
These were places I'd never seen before! Were they even real? I had my doubts.
"I don't know what path your world will take. It could become a world of magic, spiritual arts, or martial arts. However, I can make some predictions based on what I see." The chess-patterned man paused, then pointed a thin finger at me before continuing:
"Starting with you, everyone in your world will begin to gain abilities—simple powers like controlling fire, flying, lightning, and so on."
"See these images? They depict prehistoric sites from your world, or at least, that's what the fate of this world's scenario suggests! These locations are akin to treasure troves, filled with powers and magical relics. Whoever conquers one of these places will reap its grand rewards."
"Based on your memories, this is similar to RPG games."
Hmm, if what he said was true, then based on my own knowledge, I could already anticipate the clichéd storyline ahead.
After all, I had more than a passing familiarity with this kind of setup!
…This has to work.
"Mental Interface," I muttered quietly.
A quick jolt ran through my veins, followed by the appearance of a blue screen in front of me.
Name: Hakoa Sora
Skills: …
Stats: Vitality: 7 Strength: 3 Intelligence: 10 Magic Energy: 50 Luck: ?
Class: …
I was at a loss for words, my expression shifting dramatically.
…This was real.
What he said was true!
The chess-patterned man didn't seem to notice the change in my expression or the interface. He continued, "Of course, every story needs a protagonist or a main character, right? That's where the chosen one comes in."
"Why would you end up here despite the risks and your non-supernatural personality?"
"Where does this 'instinct' of yours come from? Why didn't you die?"
"The answer is simple." The mysterious man chuckled and said, "It's all because you're the chosen one."
"Fate secretly guided you here ahead of everyone else because this world's 'story cycle' is about to begin, and you've been chosen to play the role of the 'main character' in your world's story."
"The chosen one doesn't always exist; they are born under two conditions. The first is when fate senses a 'threat' or danger to the world, whether internal or external. The second is your case, when a world begins its process of 'evolution.' At that time, the world needs a safeguard to ensure its people don't become arrogant and destroy it. After all, there are always those with grand ambitions."
"Your role as the chosen one is simply to prevent the world from destruction by erasing such individuals and ensuring the story of your world doesn't end under any circumstances. To fulfill this mission, fate will support you with everything it has!"
"You may lose loved ones, or even limbs, but you will never die! Fate won't allow it—"
"Stop!" I couldn't take it anymore and yelled unconsciously.
I sighed.
I fell silent for a few seconds, trying to process everything.
The chosen one, huh…
Doesn't that mean I've only ever lived as a tool for this so-called "fate," just to be the main character? And that I'd eventually die for that purpose?
I was angry. I was furious.
Imagine someone knocking on your door one day, saying, "Hello, you're fate's favorite pawn!"
Even though I felt disheartened and furious, it wasn't helpful right now.
Most people would probably feel elated to learn they're the protagonist of a story.
Fools.
What's so great about this? I don't want to live the life of a hero. It's disgusting.
And look! Didn't he just say it himself? I might lose precious things, but I won't give up because fate won't let me. Honestly, how could anyone live a life like this?
I'm sorry, but I don't want to be the "savior" of this world. Does this world even deserve saving in the first place? I was never someone who cared about such things. Life taught me to always prioritize myself, my own well-being, above all else.
Having lost my parents early on, this way of thinking was deeply ingrained in me.
Who, after them, deserved my devotion? No one. Maybe that's why I'm still single.
But that's irrelevant. Women would flock to me if I extended my arm—that's the power of status.
Then again, maybe this chess-patterned man is just a random scammer with some talent for deception and advanced holographic tech.
Honestly, I want to believe him because the evidence is compelling and… because I want to.
No, the interface in front of me proves it.
What was that Sherlock Holmes quote again? Oh, right: "When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth."
"You think your life has been meaningless? That you were just a tool?"
The chess-patterned man reached into the sleeve of his left garment, pulled out a silver-and-black fan, opened it, and covered half his face as he sneered.
Fine, let's ignore this and focus on what's important.
What matters now is how I escape this predetermined scenario.
As things stand, I won't live in peace because of this annoying "main character" duty assigned to me.
"You have a way out of this, don't you?"
"Oh, of course! I mean, everything has a solution, don't you think?" He took a sip from his tea and continued, "The way is simple: you just have to leave this world and go to another! If you do, the fate of your world will lose its hold on you, and your status as the 'chosen one' will vanish automatically."
"It's like being born in one fiefdom but moving to another. Once you leave, your former lord has no authority over you anymore because you're no longer one of their subjects but someone else's."
He's joking, right? How in the world am I supposed to reach another world? This is absurd.
"Stop talking nonsense and get to the point!" I snapped, feeling a surge of irritation.
"Alright, no need to get angry." The chess-patterned man chuckled and said calmly, "Crossing between worlds is difficult! Even for me, it's incredibly challenging because traversing the chaos and void between worlds requires an immense.
level of power to survive. Under normal circumstances, some people's souls naturally end up in other worlds for various reasons! I believe such individuals are called 'transmigrators'? But all of this falls under 'anomalies.'"
"This occurs because worlds occasionally collide as they move through the void, and this collision pulls some souls out, allowing them to be reborn elsewhere. If I were to send your soul to another world, I'd have to place it into the body of someone who recently died. It's the best and easiest method, and, of course, it's my specialty."
"So, I have to die?" I nodded, asking the critical question, "What's the price?"
It's not like he'd do this for free, right? His tone didn't strike me as charitable.
"Of course, nothing comes free, as you know." He snapped his fingers, conjuring a small piece of paper with an image on it.
First, the floating images, and now this paper, where does he keep pulling these things from?