Bab 8: The Goddess and the Otaku Hero
We had everything prepped for the journey, but something gnawed at me, like a Spider-Sense knockoff. It was more like Spider-Sixth-Sense, straight from the dollar store. To calm my nerves, I grabbed a gun from the armory. Because who wouldn't want some overkill tucked into their pocket during a routine trip to Paris, right?
Lucy, being the tech goddess she is, went ahead and booked us a chartered flight, VIP all the way. She hacked into every system imaginable, making us the crème de la crème of high society. She transformed into this regal, wealthy lady—like she just stepped out of a Vogue magazine. Me? I switched into the role of her loyal, very serious, Bentley-driving bodyguard, Alfred, as in Batman's butler. I even adjusted my posture and put on a "I-have-no-emotions-because-I'm-very-serious" face.
We rolled up to the private jet in a Rolls Royce. No big deal. Except, well, I might've overdone it with the Alfred bit. I started running around the jet, acting like a hyperactive butler. I opened doors with unnecessary flair, bowed excessively, and even dusted off her seat before she could sit down.
She didn't say a word.
But then, out of nowhere, Lucy hit me with, "Get into something formal. You're now officially 'Alfred the Butler, Extraordinaire.'"
I snapped to attention, full butler mode. "Yes, milady," I said, bowing deeply. I followed her lead, and then she pulled back the curtain on the window. What lay beyond? Nature's glory. Rolling clouds. A perfect sunrise.
My nose started bleeding like I was in some kind of anime. "System malfunction! Brain overload!" I was frozen—mentally knocked out. Lucy just sighed. "Teenagers and their hormones." She gave me a peck on the cheek and smirked, "Good boy."
That's it, folks. My mortal body is not ready. I'm done. Heaven has touched me.
To avoid turning into a puddle of awkward hormones, I retreated to my seat, put on my best "totally unaffected" face, and tried to sleep. Which, naturally, turned into a nightmare filled with...well, you don't want to know. Dreams are torturous when your brain's running on overdrive.
We landed in Paris at 6 AM, the city of love, and—shockingly—I wasn't in the mood for romance. Not after that kiss. Lucy and I met up with a scientist crew at a prestigious university. Now, I wasn't going to mention this, but my gut was acting up again, that low-budget Spider-Sense tingling. Something felt off. Way off.
After a grand entrance into the lab, the scientists buzzed around Lucy like she was a celebrity—because, well, she kinda was. They flooded her with questions like overly eager fanboys. The lead scientist had to shoo them off, commanding them to "Maintain some dignity, people!" But Lucy? Cool as ever, she answered them all while I kept my eye on the door.
Then, BANG. Gunshots echoed through the hall.
"Stay here, I'll handle this," I said, flipping into 'Alfred-Mode' again, ready to rush out and deal with whatever threat had dared to interrupt our Paris adventure.
Lucy stopped me with a single word. "Raja."
I froze mid-step. "System, she knows?"
She continued, "I know everything." Her eyes gleamed. "Everyone wants my knowledge, but you... you haven't asked for anything. You understand what's happening to me, don't you? So, tell me, what do you want?"
I gulped, fighting back a nervous smile. "Uh, can I... can I get another kiss?" I grinned like an idiot.
Lucy didn't hesitate. She teleported right in front of me—BAM!—planted one on my lips. My mind went blank, my body turned to jelly. After what felt like eternity (but was probably just a minute), she pulled back. "Ten minutes," she whispered.
"Ten minutes?" I thought. Then it clicked: ten minutes until ascension. I nodded and asked the scientists to speed things up. Lucy was about to ascend to a higher plane, and I wasn't about to let anything stop her.
I stormed out, downing some NZT for a little brain boost, and charged straight toward the gunfire. Kicking the door open like Bruce Willis, I shouted, "Yippee ki-yay, mother—"
Before I could finish, fifty goons opened fire. Bullets flew everywhere. The hall turned into a warzone. I dodged between the marble pillars, rolling and flipping like Neo on caffeine, and counted each shot. Total mayhem. Just the way I liked it.
Then, I spotted him—the leader. A Korean guy in his 30s, eyes burning with revenge. "You killed my father!" he screamed. "Now I'll kill you and bring your head back to Korea."
I laughed, even though my pulse was racing. "Dude, I took down your father on his home turf. You really think you can take me down here? You gotta be dumber than I thought."
That did it. He went ballistic. "Kill him! I want his head!"
The bullets kept flying, but I was on a roll. I flipped, dodged, shot back—three guys down with one bullet. Neo would've been proud. I even did a slow-motion backflip while avoiding a grenade, but the bastard clipped me in the arm.
Crap. Blood was spilling out. My right hand was numb. Great. This wasn't the movies—pain was real, and it sucked.
I cursed under my breath. "Why didn't I ask for regeneration from God?!" My luck stat was C-rank—non-upgradeable. Of course. Just my luck. But I wasn't out of tricks yet. I threw two flashbangs, blinded the whole room, and unleashed hell. One bullet for each unlucky fool. Before they could recover, 23 bodies hit the floor. One more to go.
The leader was hiding behind a pillar with his two remaining goons. I was out of bullets in my main gun and too injured to lift the AR-15 from my inventory.
I had an idea. "Hey, buddy! You still there?" I shouted.
"I'm going to kill you!" he yelled back.
"Well, I've only got one bullet left. Care to stay still?"
He got cocky. "Finish him off!" he ordered his goons.
I fired my last shot—curve shot, baby. The bullet looped around the pillar and nailed all three of them. I gave a dramatic bow to the now-quiet hall. "That, my friends, is how you curve a bullet. Maximum effort."
Time check: 30 seconds. I bolted back to the lab. Inside, Lucy was in full ascension mode. The black substance had taken over, forming a dark, humming supercomputer, consuming everything: electronics, food, water, ammo—you name it. Scientists stood frozen, jaws on the floor.
After five minutes, the computer spat out a pen drive and disintegrated. That's it. Lucy was gone.
"Lucy?!" I called out, panicked.
My phone buzzed. "I'm everywhere," her text read. I smiled. How many people get to say they helped a goddess ascend? And kissed one, too!
I burst into song, dancing around the lab like an idiot. "I kissed a god, and I liked it!"
Then came the system notification: Ding. Goddess' grace achieved. Added to gifts section.
I checked. Error. No privilege.
"Huh?! Not even the system can show it? Lucy's that powerful now?"
Ding. It's between me and her. Back off.
Naughty system. I danced again, happier than ever. But then a scientist broke my groove. "Sir... could you... stop?"
I gave him the goofiest look possible. "Who said that?" But then, I remembered something.
My hand.
I checked the wound—it was healed.
I smiled at the sky. "Thank you." A final message appeared: My pleasure.
I saluted the air. "Goodbye, my goddess."
Then the car radio crackled to life, a familiar voice whispered, "I'll miss you. Farewell, my otaku hero."
I laughed out loud, "Hahaha! System, to the Batmobile!"
Ding. We don't have one, sir.
With a flash, I teleported to the multiverse port.
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