Pain.
That was the first thing he felt when he woke up. Not a dull ache. Not soreness. Pain.
Like his whole body had been chewed up by a bear, spit out, and then hit by a fucking truck on its way to hell. He blinked up at the ceiling in a haze of soreness and regret.
A groan slipped out of his throat. "Oh fuck... damn it... it hurts so much..."
Every breath hurt. Sitting up? That was the act of a goddamn war hero. He gritted his teeth and pushed himself upright on the bed, his arms trembling like wet noodles. A sharp jolt of pain stabbed through his ribs as he tried to stretch.
"Aaagh—fuck! Okay. Stretching is the enemy. Got it."
[You have 4 available draws. Would the Host like to roll now?]
He rolled his head to the side, still panting. "Yeah. Yeah, fuck it. Do it. Give me some hope."
[Rolling...]
[Congratulations! You have acquired: Accelerated Development (A+ Passive Skill)!][Accelerated Development]: Your growth curve is no longer linear—it's explosive. Training, experience, and combat will now boost your stats and skills at a drastically enhanced rate. Learn faster. Adapt faster. Evolve faster.
[Congratulations! You have acquired: Expert Stock Market Trader (B+ Passive Skill)!][Expert Stock Market Trader]: Receive the instinctive ability to analyze, predict, and profit from stock market activity. Includes built-in knowledge of economic trends, forecasting models, and trading psychology. Perfect for legally gaming the financial system.
[Congratulations! You have acquired: Better Sleeping (C- Passive Skill)!][Better Sleeping]: Improves sleep quality by 20%. Increases recovery rate during rest, slightly improves resistance to mental fatigue, and makes you harder to wake. Might reduce snoring. Probably.
[Congratulations! You have acquired: Inventory (S+ Unique Skill)!][Inventory]: Gain access to a personal, pocket-dimension storage space. Infinite weight capacity, up to 200 slots. Items do not decay. Time stands still inside. Weapons, snacks, cursed tools, rocks, bodies—you name it. If it fits, it stores.
Riku blinked.
Then grinned.
"…Accelerated Development. Fuck yeah. Let's fucking GO."
He laughed through the pain, the sound half-hysterical and half-victorious.
"This is the one. This is what I needed. With this, I'll get stronger ten times faster. I can finally start catching up with the monsters in this world."
He looked over the rest of his rolls, still grinning like a lunatic.
"Inventory's no joke either... I can use that to store rocks, cursed stones, gear, snacks—hell, I can just shove anything in there and never worry about weight again. That's peak gamer shit."
He glanced at the B+ skill. "Expert Stock Market Trader. Okay... okay, that's... weird. But kinda cracked. I could actually make real money. Real, spendable yen. Buy better equipment. Rent a private training room. Maybe even buy a car and paint it neon green just to flex."
His eyes moved to the last result. "Better Sleeping... C-minus... but you know what? Sleep's important. Better rest means better recovery. Especially when I feel like I got thrown down an elevator shaft."
He leaned back against the headboard, wincing, but satisfied.
"With this... I can grow stronger. Faster. Smarter. And soon…"
His voice dropped.
"…that grade one curse is going to regret ever being born."
But as the adrenaline started to fade, he glanced down at himself.
Bruises. Swelling. Maybe a cracked rib. The pain was still real.
"Shit. What am I going to do about all these injuries? How the hell am I supposed to explain this to my parents?"
He rubbed his temples, thinking hard.
"...Okay. I have to try and learn Reverse Cursed Technique. There's no other way. I can't keep walking around looking like a crash test dummy."
He sat up, slower this time, and took a deep breath.
"If I remember right, in the anime, Gojo said he multiplied cursed energy against itself to make positive energy... Right? Negative times negative equals positive... or some kind of cursed algebra shit?"
He squinted into the middle distance like the answer would float into view.
"That's easier said than done, though. I don't get it. How do you multiply energy against itself? Like—do I divide it first? Fold it? Reflect it? Is this math or sorcery?!"
He started muttering to himself.
"Maybe if I reverse the polarity—no, that's Star Trek. Do I visualize the flow backwards? Or maybe—fuck, this isn't even Naruto chakra control. This is like trying to sneeze with your eyes open while doing calculus."
He shook his head.
"Screw it. Just give it a try."
He crossed his legs on the bed. Closed his eyes. Focused.
Time passed.
An hour.
Two.
Then four.
His body was drenched in sweat, his cursed energy ebbing slowly like a dying battery.
Still nothing.
No glow. No warmth. No healing.
No progress.
"Riku! Dinner!"
His mother's voice cut through the silence.
He opened his eyes, dazed. He couldn't even feel his limbs anymore. All his cursed energy had been drained. He wanted to scream in frustration.
But instead—he flopped forward into the pillow like a corpse.
Footsteps came up the stairs.
"Shit! No no no—pretend to sleep!"
He yanked the covers over his battered body and closed his eyes tight.
The door creaked open.
A pair of soft footsteps. Then gentle hands brushing his cheek.
"Hmph... still asleep? Must've stayed up all night playing those damn games again."
She sighed, leaned down, and kissed his forehead.
"Sweet dreams, honey."
The door shut.
Silence returned.
Riku opened his eyes, breath ragged.
"…Back at it."
He tried again. Focused. Pushed. Hours passed. Now it was past midnight.
His eyes were bloodshot. His energy was gone. And he still hadn't felt a single flicker of reverse cursed energy.
"I get it... I'm not a genius. But seriously... how is this technique so hard?"
He groaned, staring at the ceiling.
"Gojo only got it when he was literally dying. Am I supposed to be on death's door too? Like, c'mon—give me a goddamn break!"
He pulled himself out of bed. Barely.
Every limb screamed. Every muscle trembled.
He dropped to his knees, lifted his arms to the heavens, and shouted to the cosmos:
"PLEASE. Whatever god put me in this world—RNG Jesus. Lady Luck. Gacha Gods. I don't care who you are."
He was shaking now.
"Tomorrow, just give me a healing ability. I don't care what it is. I don't care how weird or cursed it is. I'll take a healing spell made of farts. Just PLEASE."
He collapsed onto the mattress again.
"I can't keep doing this. I can't even grasp the concept of RCT. It's too fucking hard."
One last sigh.
Then sleep.
Somewhere else in the multiverse, inside a strange and cluttered room filled with glowing arcade machines, walls made of shifting clouds, and a ceiling painted with stars, a figure sat slouched on a throne of old pizza boxes.
He wore a wrinkled white button-up, obnoxious pineapple shorts, and only one sock. A tilted plastic Burger King crown sat on his messy hair, as if he'd claimed dominion over irony itself.
He took a slow drag from a cigarette, stared through a floating screen showing Riku's sleeping form, and muttered with a crooked grin:
"…You know what? Sure. I'll intervene. Just this once."
He flicked the ashes into a nearby dimension.
"But you better drive harder, kid. You better entertain me."
He leaned back, eyes glinting.
"Because healing doesn't come cheap.
========================================================================
This took me a while—like, what the fuck. I had to double-check if what I was saying about RCT was even correct. Honestly, I might just make him Batman with the stock market, is going to rake in money. Plus, he already has the fighting style.
Question: Should I make him suffer more?Answer: Yes or Yes