I died being a good Samaritan.
Pathetic.
The glowing sign of the mini-market was still burned into my retina when the truck turned me into a chalk outline on the asphalt.
A mother screamed. The kid cried. I... felt nothing. Didn't even have time to think, "how cliché."
And when I opened my eyes, it wasn't heaven that greeted me.
It was a floating office.
Literally. A desk suspended in nothingness, manned by a bird-headed guy wearing a polka-dotted tie. Instead of wings, he had paperwork.
-"Name, species, estimated duration of usefulness," he chirped, not looking up.
-"Eh?"
-"Perfect. Extra number nine thousand three hundred eighty-seven. Classification: disposable filler.
Please sign here."
-"What!?"
The form latched onto my hand like it was alive. Black ink oozed from my finger. My signature appeared on its own.
Then the floor disappeared beneath me.
---
I fell.
Longer than should be legally allowed.
When I finally hit ground (or what felt like a blend of mud and melted glass), I knew things were bad.
Really bad.
Three moons hung in the sky. One red, one white, and one black.
Their shadows overlapped, casting impossible shapes. Winged figures squawked something about "fresh stock."
And beside me, other human bodies twisted, coughed, screamed, woke up.
All had numbers marked on the back of their necks.
Mine burned: 9387.
-"On your feet, scum!" -boomed a voice, followed by the crack of a whip.
A man-or thing-with gray skin and eyes leaking oil watched us from a floating throne.
-"Welcome to Eclipsia, vermin. I am your new owner: The Extra Merchant. And you... you are my inventory."
---
I resisted.
Of course I did.
Tried to run. Punch. Scream.
None of it worked.
A rune on my chest lit up and I collapsed like a puppet with cut strings.
The following days were a blur of forced labor, hunger, and prayers no one answered.
We slept stacked like damp firewood. Some died and were thrown into a cauldron that... talked.
-"Good evening, Mister Ryouhei," it said in a refined butler accent. "Would you like your soup to taste like a familiar person or generic despair today?"
Not a metaphor. The cauldron talked.
And I was slowly going insane.
Until one night, I saw something.
While we dug trenches for a summoning ritual, I looked at the sky... and the shadows of the three moons blinked.
For a moment, I saw lines crisscrossing reality.
Options. Futures.
One where the hero arriving tomorrow stepped on the wrong glyph and exploded into a shower of magical intestines.
And I knew, without knowing how, that I could make that future happen.
I smiled for the first time since I got here.
-"Alright, Ryouhei," I muttered, while the cauldron hummed something suspiciously close to elevator music. "If the world sees me as disposable background trash... then let's sabotage the story from the bottom up."