In a medium-sized room, not quite messy but far from perfectly tidy, my finger ran idly over the touchpad of my ASUS ROG Zephyrus G15.

The laptop's RGB keyboard glowed faintly cyan, its gentle pulsing adding a low-tech heartbeat to the dim, lazy atmosphere.

On the desk beside the laptop sat a half-empty bag of potato chips, its edges crumpled and oily, alongside an empty can of Coke Zero tipped on its side like a fallen soldier.

The desk itself was a hand-me-down, sturdy enough to hold his setup but annoyingly wobbly on one corner.

Despite its imperfections, it served its purpose.

The surface was a battlefield of clutter. An anime figure of Saber in her iconic silver armor stood stoically near the laptop monitor, as if guarding the kingdom of junk.

A faded mug with "WAKE ME UP INSIDE" scrawled in bold, once-proud letters sat half-filled with what might've been coffee—or something I may forgot to rinse out days ago.

Scattered across the desk were papers and sticky notes with half-baked fanfic ideas, doodles, and the occasional sketch of weapons or overpowered protagonists I'd probably never get around to finishing.

The bed wasn't much better. A tangle of rumpled blankets sprawled across it, barely covering a neglected copy of Fate/Stay Night: Unlimited Blade Works (Blu-ray), its case open as if begging to be watched.

The walls carried their own story. A large poster of Lelouch Lamperouge, standing dramatically with his mask in hand, demanded attention from its place of honor.

Nearby, a poster of Yuri and Otonashi locked in a gaze, framed by the afterlife school's glowing horizon, added a softer touch.

Over by the window hung a weathered scroll of Guilty Crown, slightly crooked and frayed along the edges, evidence of years of being unrolled and pinned back into place.

"Fuck, mate, fanfiction nowadays is dogshit as fuck." I lamented, scrolling endlessly, trying to find something that fit my taste. Page after page, nothing. Not even a shred of hope.

Why wasn't anyone writing about the classics? Not even one...

Why?

I mean, yeah, Angel Beats! and Guilty Crown were depressing as hell, but that's the whole point! Why wouldn't someone write a fanfic that fixed that? A story where the MC gave those worlds a better future? Why not take those gut-wrenching endings and rewrite them into something fulfilling?

They're masterpieces. Absolute fucking masterpieces. But no one cares about them anymore. It's like they've been erased from existence. Are they too old for people to bother with? Is that it? Because they aren't trending, no one gives a damn?

I don't get it.

Even Code Geass, once the king of anime discussions, is barely a ghost of its former glory. And that ending? It made me cry. These were the shows that shaped me, and now it's like they've been forgotten.

Scrolling faster, desperate now, I kept searching. And then, suddenly—wait a minute.

There it was. Guilty Crown. A rare sight. I clicked on it immediately, my heart racing.

And then I deadpanned.

Yeah. Of course. Another fucking story where the focus was just sex and catching Pokémon for some goddamn reason. What the hell? Why? Who even writes this shit?

[Do you want to understand the meaning of life?]

The screen flashed the message at me, almost mocking my frustration. I stared at it, hollow inside. I was depressed, sure, but not to the point of joining some Main God Space bullshit.

So, I clicked no.

Everything went black.

For a solid three minutes, I was just floating in the void. No sound, no light—nothing but silence. And then, out of nowhere, a booming drumbeat shook me awake.

"Wake up, lad."

The voice grated on my ears—high-pitched, commanding, and oddly playful. Groaning, I opened my eyes, blinking hard at the sight before me.

A massive titan, casually sitting on a throne, a trident in hand. His presence was overwhelming, the air around him crackling with energy.

"Did I just meet Poseidon or something?" I mumbled, trying to make sense of what was happening.

The guy chuckled, smirking at me. "No, I'm not that guy. But you've got to admit, this whole setup is pretty fucking cool, isn't it?"

He leaned forward, his smirk widening. "Anyway, let's get to the point. Do you miss classic anime, lad?"

"I do... God?" I asked hesitantly, not sure whether I should bow or run for my life.

"God is fine," he said casually, waving me off like it was nothing. "Here's the deal, lad. I heard your whining. You want someone to write fanfics about classic anime, don't you? You want stories that aren't just about horny teenagers drooling over waifus, right?"

I nodded dumbly, still trying to process what was happening.

"You want something wholesome. Something where the author actually gives a shit about the world and its characters. Stories that explore the setting, that interact with the people who live there. Not just some power fantasy jerk-off session where the MC trains for ten chapters, gets OP for no reason, and spends the rest of the time being cool for the sake of being cool."

I found it strange how someone could talk so much without a single pause. Then again, considering he was God, it made sense.

He didn't need to stop for breath, didn't need oxygen, didn't need to gulp down water to keep his throat from drying out. He just kept talking, like a never-ending stream of words flowing effortlessly.

"The catch?" I asked, cutting through his rambling to get straight to the point. That was the most important thing, obviously.

"Just like you, lad, I want a story. Here's the deal: you'll go there yourself and write the story for me. You'll become the main character in that world. For your first stop, I'm sending you to Angel Beats. Your mission is to fix the regrets of that world, to give those souls the closure they need. That world will also serve as your anchor, your hub for meeting characters from other verses who need their regrets fixed as well. And as a bonus, I'll give you ownership of that world."

I frowned slightly, trying to process it all. He kept going.

"You know the theme of Angel Beats, don't you? Most of the characters are juveniles who died with regrets still weighing on them—unspoken, unresolved. But what if characters from other franchises found themselves there, too? What if their regrets brought them to that afterlife?"

"For instance, take Lelouch," he continued. "After his Zero Requiem, he's bound to have regrets. He's exactly the type who would end up in Angel Beats. And when you meet him, you'll unlock access to his world. You'll go there, fix his regrets, and fix ours along the way."

"You'll gain power every time you help someone find peace, every time you take their regrets and turn them into a joyful ending. Bit by bit, you'll grow stronger, more capable. What do you think? Are you willing to accept these terms?"

"I'll try my best," I said firmly, determination settling in my chest like a heavy weight I refused to drop.

"Good." The God smiled, his expression calm but carrying an energy that felt unstoppable. "Now, let's start the story."

With a wave of his hand, the void around me shifted, and in an instant, I disappeared.