Bob wasn’t special. Not in the way he wanted to be, at least. Sure, he was a bit... rounder than most, and luck never seemed to be on his side. But in his head, he was destined for greatness—a hero ready to save the day. Until then, all he had were his dreams and one guilty pleasure: toilet humor.

Every day at work, Bob would chuckle to himself about fart jokes, snicker at puns about dumps, and make up his own crude gags. “What's the king of the toilets?” he’d think, trying to keep a straight face. “The Throne!” It was dumb, he knew, but those jokes were the only thing that kept him going in his dull, gray life. He had no girlfriend, no exciting adventures, and no hope of becoming anything more than plain old Bob. But that didn’t stop him from dreaming.

One fateful afternoon, as Bob waddled down the street on his way home, he never could've known it would be his last. The sun was shining, birds were chirping, and Bob, as usual, was lost in his thoughts. He was grinning about some joke he'd read earlier, and he hardly noticed the glistening, fresh pile of dog poop on the sidewalk in front of him.

Splat.

Bob’s foot hit the poop dead-on, and he slipped. It was the kind of cartoonish slip where his legs flew out in opposite directions, and for one horrifying, slow-motion moment, Bob hung in the air. And then, he fell—right into an open manhole behind him. It was a perfect poop-joke setup, just not the one he’d ever wanted to live.

He plummeted into darkness, the ground getting further away, the air rushing past his face. The smell of the poop filled his nose as he fell, and his heart raced with panic. Bob didn’t have much time to think, but one stupid, pathetic thought crossed his mind as he plummeted to his doom:

“Well, at least I’ll leave this cr— behind me!”

And then, everything went black.

Bob’s eyes shot open, and he gasped for air, his heart pounding. He sat up quickly, expecting to find himself in a dark, smelly sewer. But instead, he saw... trees. A bright, green forest surrounded him. Birds chirped sweetly, a gentle breeze rustled the leaves, and a river sparkled nearby, its water so clear he could see tiny fish swimming in it. It was like a dream, and Bob's jaw dropped.

“What... where am I?” he muttered, rubbing his eyes to make sure he wasn’t still unconscious. But everything stayed the same—the colors were bright, the air was fresh, and the world seemed... magical.

Bob stood up, a huge grin spreading across his face. He spun around, taking in all the beauty. It was like those fantasy games he loved playing. Was he dead? It sure didn't feel like it. He patted his body—yep, all still there. But it was different. He felt stronger, lighter, more... alive.

“This is amazing!” Bob shouted, throwing his hands up in the air. “I must’ve been reincarnated! Like one of those stories! And that means... I'm destined to be a hero!”

Bob's mind raced with possibilities. He imagined himself as a brave warrior, sword in hand, slaying monsters. Or maybe he’d be a great king, ruling over all the land with wisdom and strength. But there was one thing that excited him most—a dream he’d had since he was a kid.

“A fire mage,” he whispered to himself, almost in awe. “Yeah... yeah, that's it. I’m gonna be a fire mage!” He imagined flames shooting from his hands, burning everything in his path. It felt so real, so... possible.

Without thinking, Bob began waving his hands around, trying to summon flames. He flung his arms out in what he thought was a "cool" wizard pose, shouting, “Fireball!” Then he squinted and clenched his fists, pretending to focus really hard, imagining sparks flying from his fingertips. But nothing happened.

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“Okay... okay, maybe it’s all in the stance,” he said, shaking it off. He spread his legs wide, puffed out his chest, and tried again, this time yelling, “Inferno Blast!” Still, no flames. Just a strong breeze and the sound of a bird squawking nearby.

Bob sighed but didn't lose hope. “Well, I’ll figure it out soon,” he muttered. After all, he’d just woken up in a new world—these things probably took time. But as he posed one more time, a loud ding! suddenly rang in his ears, making him jump.

“What the...?” he said, looking around wildly. And then he saw it—a glowing, floating screen appeared in front of his eyes, shining bright in the middle of the magical forest.

“Welcome, Bob,” the screen said in big, bold letters. “Initializing P.U.M.A. System…”

The glowing screen flickered, then words began to scroll across it in bright, golden letters. Bob’s mouth hung open as he tried to make sense of what he was seeing.

“Hello, Bob!” a cheerful voice boomed, echoing around the forest. “Welcome to the Powers Unleashed: Magical Anomalies System, or... P.U.M.A. for short!”

Bob blinked, his eyes wide. “Whoa, cool,” he whispered, staring at the screen. It felt like one of those video games he loved, but this was real. He reached out to touch the glowing letters, but his hand went right through.

“Congratulations on your reincarnation into this wonderful fantasy world!” P.U.M.A. continued, sounding way too excited for Bob’s taste. “You have been chosen to wield great magical power to fulfill your destiny! But first, you must choose your path.”

“My... path?” Bob said, his excitement building. “Oh, man, this is it! This is my chance to become a fire mage!” He had seen it in so many games and stories—the fire mage was always the coolest, with flames roaring around them, lighting up the battlefield.

The screen glowed brighter, and Bob felt his heart racing. He quickly straightened up, chest puffed out, ready to make his choice. “I choose FIRE!” he shouted, raising his fists to the sky like he was summoning a flame right then and there. “I wanna be a fire mage!”

There was a long pause. The screen flashed white for a moment, and P.U.M.A.’s voice came back, calm and almost... amused. “Ah, fire... such a common choice among new users. Processing your unique request now...”

Bob was practically bouncing on his toes, his mind racing with visions of blazing infernos and towering firestorms. This was going to be epic.

The screen made a few beeping sounds, and then P.U.M.A.’s voice chimed back in, sounding a bit more... confused. “Hmm... interesting. Did you say something about... poop?”

Bob froze, blinking in confusion. “What? No, I said fire! You know, flames, heat, explosions—fire!”

“Strange,” P.U.M.A. continued, unfazed. “It clearly says here... 'poop.'” The screen flickered, and strange symbols floated across it, almost like they were searching for something. “Yes, yes... initiating Fiery Fecal Flame Protocol!”

Bob frowned, not really paying attention to the words. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. Just give me the fire spells!” He had no idea what "Fiery Fecal Flame" meant, but it sounded kind of like "fire," so he figured he was on the right track.

Another long pause followed. Bob’s fingers twitched in anticipation. He could feel it—the magic, the power, the... destiny.

“Assigning magic...” P.U.M.A. said slowly, drawing out the words. “Processing... Congratulations, Bob! You have been assigned: The Fiery Fecal Flame!”

The words exploded onto the screen in bright, colorful letters. Confetti fell from the top of the screen, like some kind of celebration. Bob stared, eyes wide and sparkling with excitement.

“YES!” he shouted, jumping up and down. “I did it! I’m a fire mage!” He felt like the coolest person in the world. He couldn't wait to start throwing fireballs left and right.

“Oh, and one more thing!” P.U.M.A. chimed in. “Your first spell has been unlocked: Scorching Brown Blast!” The screen now displayed the name of the spell in fancy, swirling letters. Below it, a few empty spell slots showed up, with locks over them and a note saying: “Collect Stink Points to unlock more spells.”

“Stink Points?” Bob said, squinting at the screen. “What’s that supposed to mean?” But he quickly shrugged it off. The word “Scorching” caught his eye, and that was good enough for him. Must be fire-related, right? He couldn’t wait to try it out.

P.U.M.A.’s voice returned, bright and overly enthusiastic. “What an exciting opportunity for you! Many dream of wielding flame, but YOU, Bob, get to wield a very... special kind of flame! Truly unique, don't you think?”

Bob grinned, not catching the sarcastic tone. “Yeah! Unique! That's me, the special fire mage!”