Slumped back in his chair, staring at the screen of his latest chapter draft like it had just insulted his ancestors. His stylus dangled loosely from his fingers, threatening to fall, while the cursor blinked at him with a mocking rhythm.
He was bored. The type of bored that couldn't be fixed with a coffee run or a new playlist. The type of boredom that crept into your soul when you'd already conquered the worldâor at least the manga world. Ryota wasn't just any mangaka; he was the Ryota Akashi, creator of Bloodfang Chronicles, a manga so popular it had practically built its own religion. People dressed up as his characters at conventions. Fans tattooed quotes from his series onto their bodies like they were scriptures.
And yet, here he was, slouching in his state-of-the-art studio, surrounded by limited-edition figures of his own creations, wondering if he'd die of artistic atrophy before he even hit 35.
"This is it," he groaned, spinning his chair lazily. "This is how it ends for me. Death by success. Found in his studio, surrounded by unopened fan mail and guilt-tripping plushies." He reached for the nearest oneâa chibi version of his series' brooding anti-hero, Bloodfangâand held it up dramatically. "You're to blame for this, you know. You and your tragic backstory. You peaked too early, and now I'm out of ideas!"
The plush's lifeless button eyes stared back.
Ryota sighed and dropped it, rubbing his face with both hands. He wasn't just out of ideas; he was sick of everything. Sick of his editors breathing down his neck with their "tight deadlines" and "bonus chapters" and "special anniversary releases." Sick of corporate execs pretending to care about his "creative vision" while they turned his characters into branded energy drinks. Sick of being trapped in a cycle of creating content that didn't excite him anymore.
He grabbed his phone and started doomscrolling through social media. It was his new favorite hobby: watching other people live their lives while he ignored his own. That's when a post caught his eye.
"AnonymousInk just hit 1M subs! Thank you for loving my webcomic: Servant Killer! I never thought something I made for fun would blow up like this!"
"AnonymousInk," Ryota muttered, sitting up a little straighter. He'd heard the name before. His assistant had been raving about their series just last week. He heard it was gritty, emotional, and had a unique twist with some gacha thing in it.
Ryota squinted at the screen, scrolling through AnonymousInk's ComicVerse page. The art wasn't anything specialâgood, but not groundbreaking. But the writing? The fans in the comments couldn't stop screaming about how addictive the story was. It was raw, unpolished, and totally free. No corporate overlords. No brand deals. Just pure, unfiltered creativity.
For a moment, Ryota let himself imagine it: going undercover, creating something new without anyone knowing it was him. No expectations. No pressure. Just a blank slate.
He snorted, shaking his head. "What am I thinking? That'd be like Eiichiro Oda going undercover and dropping another masterpiece on the world. Everyone would know immediately."
Still, the idea didn't go away. It clung to him, whispering in the back of his mind.
"What ifâŠ" he murmured, spinning his chair again, letting the thought linger. "What if I could do it? Something totally different. No werewolves, no vampires, no tragic anti-heroes with daddy issues. Just⊠something fresh."
His spinning slowed, and he stared at his high-end monitor, the ComicVerse homepage still open on his phone. The platform was perfectâanonymous, easy to use, and full of up-and-comers trying to make a name for themselves. And him? He was the guy who already had the name. He didn't need the fame. He just needed the fun.
Ryota grinned, his fingers itching for the keyboard.
"Create an Account"
If he was going to do this, he needed a name. Something ridiculous. Something no one would ever connect to Ryota Akashi, the Mangaka God. Something that screamed, "I'm just here to vibe."
He thought for a moment, then typed:
Username: CloudStrider
Password: MangakaOnVacation12 (Petty? Maybe. Accurate? Absolutely.)
Bio: "Just a guy writing random stuff while eating instant ramen. Chaos."
The username made him chuckle. He'd always thought the word "cloud" was weirdly calming, and "strider" made it sound cool. Perfect for flying under the radar.
"Alright, CloudStrider," he said, leaning back in his chair. "Let's see what you've got."
The account was live. It was blank, unremarkable, just another pebble in the ocean of creators on ComicVerse. And for the first time in years, Ryota felt⊠excited. Nervous, sure, but mostly excited.
Now came the hard part: actually coming up with a story.
"Okay, think," he muttered, pacing the room in his fuzzy slippers. "What's the opposite of what I usually do?" He glanced at the Bloodfang figure on his shelf, its glowing red eyes practically screaming "TRAUMA AND DARKNESS."
"No anti-heroes," he said firmly. "No melodrama. No endless backstories about how the protagonist's entire village got burned down by a god."
His gaze drifted to his bookshelf, stuffed with light novels, old shonen manga, and even a few webnovels he'd been meaning to read. His assistant had recommended some regression stories recentlyâthe ones where the protagonist goes back in time and gets a second chance to fix their life. Ryota had dismissed them at the time as overdone, but nowâŠ
"That could work," he said, snapping his fingers. "But it needs a twist. Something that makes it mine."
He grabbed his tablet, opened a blank document, and started brainstorming.
Brainstorming Session: "Apocalypse: Second Run"
Main Character: A regular guy who gets betrayed by his girlfriend during an apocalypse. She steals his supplies, leaves with another man, and abandons him to die.
Twist: He regresses back in time to the day before the apocalypse starts. This time, he's ready.
System: He gets a mysterious storage space ability. Can store anything, even living creatures, and they'll stay in perfect condition.
Tone: Comedy but with moments of dark humor. Mostly comedy though.
Goal: Survive, and make sure his ex gets what's coming to her.
The more Ryota wrote, the more the story came to life in his mind. He could see the opening scene already: the protagonist, bloody and broken, watching the love of his life walk away with his supplies, leaving him to die. And thenâbam! Time reversal. He's back, alive, and this time he's got a plan.
Ryota's grin widened as he sketched a rough character design. Nothing fancyâjust a scrappy, unassuming guy with sharp eyes and a constant air of "I don't trust anyone anymore." He'd refine it later, but for now, it was enough to get the vibe.
"This is gonna be fun," he said, cracking his knuckles. "No editors. No deadlines. Just me and my stupid ideas. Let's do this."
He leaned forward, stylus in hand, and started outlining the first chapter. For the first time in years, Ryota felt like a rookie again, not a mangaka god, not a corporate moneymaker, just a guy with a story to tell.