I had finally done it—achieved the ultimate Paladin build. Maxed stats, impenetrable armor, and so many resistances that death itself had given up on me. I was an unkillable tank, an indomitable force. Nothing could stop me. And then my PC exploded. I died. Irony, thou art a cruel mistress. But instead of the afterlife, I woke up as my Paladin character… in the wrong freaking genre. Instead of castles and dungeons, there were people flying around on swords, shooting qi beams like fantasy laser guns. “This is definitely the wrong genre,” I muttered, watching a pompous young master sneer at me. “Kowtow, kiss my foot, and beg for forgiveness!” he declared. I looked at my imaginary maxed-out health bar, then at his flimsy silk robes. Oh, this was going to be fun.