"Listen, soul!" a commanding female voice boomed. "Your old life is done. Sad, I know, but you slipped away peacefully in your sleep. Now, you’ve got a chance at a new life, with a grand mission!"

  I was just a glowing orb, no body, no mouth, floating in a starry void. Before me, a goddess sat on a throne hovering in midair. Below us, a blue pnet spun, its continents utterly alien.

  She called herself Dataris, supreme goddess of Fiol, with ankle-length white hair and mischievous red eyes. Her sheer dress was practically see-through, but I wasn’t impressed. A decade of anime had taught me to spot an isekai pitch a mile away.

  "Hey," I said when she gave me a voice. "How many guys have you dragged into this?"

  Silence. Dataris gaped, leaning back, muttering, "Why not ask, ‘Am I dead?’ or ‘What happened?’ like the others?"

  "Because you always pick high schoolers," I scoffed. "They think life’s all sunshine and best friends. Me? Soul-crushing jobs, rushed marriages, burnout. Your world’s got clean food and monsters to smash. Who’d miss Earth?"

  Dataris stared, clearly rattled. "Who are you?"

  "Crime Much, electrician from Saratov," I replied. If I had shoulders, I’d have shrugged. "Not some genius, just a guy who fixes outlets."

  "I’ll look into this Saratov!" she roared, fists clenched. "No one predicts where I summon souls!"

  She unched into her spiel: the Dark Lord was spreading pgue across Helis, Fiol’s main continent, with demons led by their Prince threatening all life. I bit my tongue on the genocide bit; her gre screamed “shut up.” Time was short. My soul needed a body, fast. First, we had to pick my css and divine gift.

  "Six hours to choose!" Dataris announced, summoning a deck of floating cards. "Choose wisely!"

  I zipped to a card, flipping it with a thought: Combat Alchemist, crafting potions in battle. Cool, but not my thing. "Filter it," I said. "Heavy armor, healing skills, no god-worshipping nonsense."

  Three-quarters of the cards vanished. Healing skills cut it to a dozen. "Lose the god-tied ones," I added. One card remained: Blood Knight. Its description oozed darkness: vampires, blood-drinking, ensving innocents. Dataris freaked.

  "Vile! Monstrous!" she raged. "They seduce maidens and raise the dead! Don’t pick it!"

  "Nope," I agreed. "Gross."

  She beamed. "Wise choice, Saratov man!"

  "Still need a css," I said. "Heavy armor, healing, no gods."

  Dataris hesitated, then admitted, "I, uh, made one up. No one picks it."

  "Made it?" I raised an invisible eyebrow.

  "You heard nothing!" she snapped, eyes narrowing.

  "Didn’t hear a thing," I said.

  She waved dramatically, conjuring a golden card: Knight of the Fair Lady. Her pet project, designed for chivalrous heroes who reject harems for true love. I read: buffs and healing tied to a chosen dy, tanking for her glory. Solid, but risky. What if the dy died or betrayed me?

  "Brilliant," I fttered. "But if my dy twists an ankle, am I screwed? Can I switch dies?"

  Dataris, eager for me to pick her css, summoned spell circles and a choir-like hum. "Done!" she crowed. "You can switch!"

  "You’re the best goddess ever," I said, locking in the css.

  "Now, your divine gift!" Thousands of cards appeared. "Filter again?"

  "Boosts experience from killing monsters. Any monsters."

  Three cards remained: Ocean of Experience (+200% EXP), Genius (+20 stats, +100% EXP), Victory Streak (+1 EXP per same-type kill, stacking to 30). I picked Victory Streak. Weak early, but I’d grind.

  "Sure about that?" Dataris frowned. "It fizzles out ter."

  "I’ll crush the Dark Prince with your css’s power," I said.

  She glowed, crafting my body: tall, lean, bck-and-white hair (I’d shave it), pin face. I dodged her blue-hair-red-eyes combo with more fttery. Then she asked, "What’s your name, hero?"

  "Crime!" I blurted. "Crime Much!"

  "Manly," she nodded, radiant. "I, Dataris, name you Crime Much! Save Fiol from demons!"

  Light fred. I was sucked into the scrawny body, gasping my first breath. Alive again!

  "Crime!" Dataris called. "Hear me?"

  "Give me a sec," I croaked, stumbling upright. Her beauty hit differently now, stunning and distracting.

  "Why’s it always like this?!" she shrieked, eyeing my uncovered state. "Cover yourself!"

  "Huge mistake!" I panicked. "Name’s Much Crime! Swap it!"

  Her red eye peeked through her fingers, horrified. "NOOO!" she screamed, waving her hand.

  The void opened, and I plummeted into Fiol, yelling, filing, and utterly unheroic.