"So what are your plans for this weekend? Anything fun?"

"Ehh. Sleep. Video games. Weed. The usual." I replied to my boss. She was an older woman with decades of experience as the one who coordinated us trainers, and helped our puppers get adopted for the animal shelter we worked at. She was a bit hard for most people to get along with, apparently, but I'd never had a problem. Mostly because my work ethic wasn't garbage. She was older in her years, so 'twenty six' instead of the usual twenty five I defaulted to for women’s ages in the name of survival, which meant that if heavy shit needed to be lifted, I lifted it. If there was menial data entry to do, I did it. Mucking out the kennels was a shared job, but I didn't complain, and all the animals tended to like me, even if at first some of the skittish rescues saw my thick six foot two frame and quailed in terror. After some food, pets, and belly rubs, in that order, they typically warmed up to me and my magic fingers.

My boss gave me a look. "Weed and video games huh? Y'know most men stop doing that when they're almost thirty."

I smirked back at her, knowingly. "You would think that, but actually, no. Most modern guys default to exactly that, especially when they're single and their love life is D.O.A.” One of our coworkers clapped out the series of fast claps from the theme song of Friends, as she apparently heard me. My boss and I chuckled. “At least, the ones that I know do, anyway. Besides, you know me. All about that work/life balance and keeping that stuff in control. Just enough weed to take the edge off, just enough video games to recharge my brain after hearing Miss Barksalot for six hours." Miss Barksalot had an actual name, but nobody ever heard it, because she never shut the fuck up when she saw new humans, and her high pitched bark could, and had, driven people to the edge of madness. It would take her months before she acclimated to a new person's presence.

My boss gave me a different look then, amused as usual by my aloof answer, her tone turned more serious. "Is your leg still bothering you? You should really get that looked at."

My leg, broken in an incident I didn't like thinking about because how it had happened was depressingly embarrassing, had been repaired with modern science, screws, plates, and good ol' American eye bulging six digit hospital bills. Naturally, the insurance company refused to cover it. Somehow, multiple X rays, a 'bone fixator,' and a whole bunch of other ridiculously expensive treatments were deemed 'not medically necessary'. That left me holding the bag. Four times now I’d had to harass them through endless phone tag with their automated robots, trying to get them to cover what they'd promised to cover back when I’d been in the hospital. Back then, I’d had a feeling their words were utter BS, but I’d been drugged out of my mind and didn’t think to get the rep’s name or anything in writing. Their scam attempts, to this day, still continued, as every few months I'd get a brand new bill with the same charges all over again. This kind of refusal, claiming vital treatments weren’t necessary, was a depressingly common scam by insurance companies all across America. Yet they acted surprised when one of their CEOs ended up shot, repeatedly, in the head, in broad daylight, right on the street.

Some people called the murderer a hero. Others called him a monster. Me, I saw him as somewhere in between. I understood his frustration; these rich corporate assholes desperately needed a wake up call. Maybe a less fatal one would have been better, but peaceful protests didn’t seem to move the needle anymore, and corporate greed showed no signs of slowing down. They wanted to limit anesthesia next, or at least how much they paid for it, with limits that would hit mid-surgery. Literally robbing people on the operating table. I had a feeling more people were going to snap under the financial strain and that would lead to more deaths, especially in a country as gun filled as America. It was a recipe for bloodbath, but I wanted no part of that mess. No amount of medical debt was worth ending up in our even worse Prison system and, obviously, murder is bad, m’kay.

My leg still hurt, despite my best efforts to make it stronger. I'd done my rehab, rolled the joint through the alphabet so many times I became sick of letters, and made the best purchase of my life, a stationary exercise bike that also sometimes helped with my weight problem. And it still fucking hurt. All. The. Time. But Mary Jane dulled that edge, and gave me fun thoughts, so I saw the tradeoff as fair.

"I'm fine." I said, mostly meaning it. "Once my fat ass slims down, it'll get better. Probably."

"And if it doesn't, you should go see a Doctor." My boss admonished, but there was no way in Hell I'd go to a Doctor for anything less than a fatal injury at this point. When simple things like X Rays cost over half a grand, (or probably more, by now) it was simply not a feasible option. Not if I wanted to pay rent. And eat. "Go take Falkor for a walk. Then you can clock out, and start your bachelor's weekend." Her tone turned to gentle mockery at the end, but it was all in good fun. Even if it was depressingly accurate. There would very likely be no female presences in my immediate future, and I had long since come to terms with that.

Falkor, was an adorable Goldendoodle with what I liked to call 'Velociraptor-level Intelligence', namely, because the white furred floofy fucker could open doors, and had a habit of running off. Running, because of the aforementioned metal leg, was not my strong suit, but I could do it. Briefly. For a price I'd feel later. Despite his escape artistry, I loved that doodle. He was one of those old dogs who'd been at the shelter for years, and nobody wanted, but had gotten his name because of his ears and those sleepy, derpy eyes of his that looked like the Luckdragon from The NeverEnding Story. I liked him, he liked me, and we had an understanding.

There was wisdom in those old eyes, and I had a feeling he could tell my leg wasn't the best. So if he kept his shit in line, and his pace slow, he'd get treats after our daily walks, even though he much preferred running around. Age had not slowed him. I spoiled him rotten with milk bones, because he was one of our goodest boys, and deserved all three of them. He was also pretty old, and had had a rough life as a puppy, though apparently he'd had an easier life once he'd arrived at the shelter. His floofy white tail started wagging, thumping against the carpeted floor as I found him lounging in a sunbeam, one of the last puppers still out in our common room this late on a Friday, mostly because he didn't cause trouble and had a tendency to keep the troublemakers in line until we wrangled them.

“Heyyy, Falkor.” I said, grinning at him, since apparently canines could interpret facial expressions. “Ready for a Walk!?” His floofy ears perked up at his second favorite word, but he rolled onto his back, tongue lolling, his tail still wagging and shaking his entire body as it did, his belly prominently and hopefully displayed for a nice rub.

I couldn’t deny this boi, and gave him a solid sixty seconds of belly rubs, before I had to stand upright again. “Alright bud, let’s go.” He rolled onto his floofy feet, and sat, wiggling excitedly as I put his leash on.

New York City was as busy as ever, and Falkor had his mouth open and his tongue lolling. His sleepy, derpy eyes looked at everyone they passed with joy, but most New Yorkers didn’t pay him any mind. His tail started wagging again, as we came upon probably his favorite human, outside the shelter. I, perhaps unwisely, gave him some lead on the automatic retracting leash, as I shouted at the old, overweight, Italian stereotype that ran the closest street hot dog vendor. “Yo! Tony! Incoming!”

“Falkor! Amico mio!” The old man started giving the old doodle some rough but affectionate scritches. Falkor preferred gentle touches, but there wasn’t much he wouldn’t do for Old Tony’s ‘nearly’ expired hot dogs. “You again, cucciolone! Always begging. Here, take this, before it goes bad!”

I walked up behind Falkor, as the old doggo gnoshed on his meat. Tony grinned knowingly at me. “And how about you, amico? Hungry today?”

I shook my head. “I had a big lunch, Tony. Thank you, though.”

The old man winked and tapped his nose. “I see you. Trying to keep the weight off, eh? Maybe land a woman?” He waggled his bushy salt and pepper eyebrow.

I chuckle snorted. “Women cost money, Tony. I don’t have that kind of disposable income.”

Tony nodded in agreement. Tony nodded in agreement. “I get it, amico. Hey, you’re perspicace, eh? What do you think of il Presidente’s tariffs? Mi nipote says he’s a genius. Buys his...how do you say…‘meem coin.’ But I don’t know... Starting fights with allies over trade, it's brutto affare. Nothing good ever comes from a war of wallets.”

I nodded in agreement, as I expected ‘il Presidente’ to drive the country into an economic crater, like he’d done last time, in the middle of a plague, and like every Republican had before him. But that was what Americans wanted, apparently.

It was as I sighed my way through a halfhearted conversation about the imminent and probable collapse of the country that I noticed Falkor was quite far from me, in the middle of a rather busy street, tail wagging as he nosed up next to a young little kiddo, who was holding a fresh hot dog no doubt from Tony's cart. The sight was adorable, and low-key restored some of my faith in humanity. But it didn’t last.

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A loud and somehow ominous horn ripped through the air, and I got a sinking feeling in my chest. Tony said something in a tone of alarm, but I didn't register his words, I was already moving. The child froze as the horn ripped through the air, Falkor stayed by his side, ears and tail raised in response to the oncoming noise. Being large and slow though, I ended up in the middle of the road with them as the truck responsible for the loud horn somehow came hurtling around the nearest corner at a speed that should have tipped it over, but didn’t. Falkor’s tail stopped wagging as he turned toward me, eyes widening in something close to confusion. He barked once, short, sharp, and almost like a plea. The kiddo clung to Falkor’s fur, his big brown eyes reflecting nothing but fear. He didn’t cry. He just stood there, petrified, waiting for someone to do something.

That someone, I decided, had to be me.

I scooped them both up without thinking, the motion rough but necessary. Falkor yelped softly and immediately started trying to wriggle free, and the kid gasped as I cradled them awkwardly against my chest. I didn't even bother trying to run, as I knew I was too slow, and the truck was moving too fast. Time was against us, so, I leapt for it, desperate to at least get the pupper and the child to the curb.

My eyes widened as I heard an unpleasant and chillingly familiar snap, from my bad leg, under the weight of my fat ass, the child, and Falkor, and I lost my balance as I landed, my brave, heroic leap becoming more of an awkward, flailing stumble. Gritting my teeth through the intense pain rapidly rising through my ankle and leg, I used my stupidly long limbs to my advantage, and rougher than I meant to, but not enough to harm them, I tossed the little one onto the curb, with a hard landing on his tiny bottom. He seemed surprised, but unhurt. Falkor also yelped, not liking what I had to do, but as he whirled and looked at me, and my sad, knowing smile, he understood. I'd stumbled backwards, practically back to the middle of the road, and my ankle was turned at a bad angle. I could see it in his wise, derpy eyes. He knew I couldn't move in time.

But I didn’t just sit there. Nerd that I was, I'd seen enough isekai to know how this went. I tried to get up, but my ankle was properly fucked, too fucked to even stand on, just like when I'd first broken it. I was not getting up again, and though I contemplated trying to roll away, truck-kun would not be denied. The last thing I saw was Falkor, bless his fluffy heart, barking frantically and running towards me, a loyal boy to the end, even though I knew it was too late. The truck was simply moving too fast, and my rational brain already knew the math. A truck that size and weight, with its considerable mass going well over the posted speed limit of thirty five. I was as fucked as my leg was. The blaring horn's roar became overpowering, and then, the world went white.

As the sound of truck-kun's horn faded into unnerving silence, a golden glow suffused the blank void I found myself in, bathing the space with warmth. It wasn’t just light; it was a presence, one that I could somehow sense. It was powerful...but there was genuine kindness there. A 'good vibe' as the Zoomers would call it. Slowly, the glow coalesced into a humanoid shape, and before me stood a woman who could only be described as divinely beautiful.

She was impossibly perfect in terms of aesthetics, with long hair that shimmered like gold, yet also had a silver sheen to it as well, cascading in waves down her back. Her skin and eyes had a faint golden glow, and her eyes were large and expressive. Her flowing blue dress, adorned with intricate starry patterns, seemed alive, constantly shifting like the night sky.

"Welcome, Hero." She said, her voice melodic and soothing as if it bypassed my ears and spoke directly to my soul. "You may call me Laurelin."

I blinked, still trying to process where I was or, more accurately, the fact that I really had just been obliterated by a speeding truck. "Am I... dead?"

She gave a small, understanding smile and nodded gracefully. "In a sense, yes. Your mortal life on Earth has ended, but your story is far from over. You are the one that I sensed. The one that I Chose, this time. The one that will redeem my beloved world. Arcadia."

"Chose?" I echoed dumbly, still trying to make sense of everything. "Did...did your choice send that fucking truck my way!? Because that hurt! A lot!"

Her laugh was light, like wind through leaves. "Not...quite." Her expression sobered, as she continued to speak. "Your mortal coil was doomed to end soon...I simply...altered your ultimate Fate, a bit. Tested the strength of your character for myself. I must say, I am not disappointed. Your kind treatment of others in your life and jobs in society, and your decisions in your final moments, showed great courage and selflessness. You risked everything to save an innocent child and a loyal companion, knowing the likely cost and despite your injury slowing you. Such heroism is exactly what I had hoped for."

I blinked in disbelief. "Wai- wha- how- I was going to die soon!?"

Laurelin nodded, sadly. "I will not reveal the path of a Fate now avoided...but know that your end would have hurt far more than the truck. It gave you a quick end, and a chance for heroism."

I tried to blink, but couldn't. It was at that point, that I realized my body was gone. That made sense. It was probably in a hundred pieces by now. My eyes, or whatever I was using to perceive my surroundings, saw what was left of me as a floating speck of coalesced energy which, I had an unnerving feeling, would have simply dispersed elsewhere into the universe, had Laurelin not had her eye upon me.

Finally, I said, "What about...what about my family? My life on Earth? Falkor? Are he and the kiddo safe, at least?"

Laurelin's expression shifted to sadness, and I felt a surge of despair and worry. "Your loyal friend...was with you, at the end. Heedless of the danger, he ran to help you...and sadly, shared your Fate... The child is alive, and I spared him from seeing what becomes of a body after a fast moving vehicles strikes it. He will honor your memory the rest of his life, and become a close friend of your family...assuming the strands of Fate do not shift overmuch, from my tampering. Your death will be ruled a hit-and-run, and the NYPD will not be able to find the truck that ended you."

I was still processing that Falkor had died too. I wanted to cry, but couldn't. I had no tear ducts, all I could do was radiate sorrow, in silence. Laurelin, Goddess that she was, sensed this. "If it alleviates your pain...you should know that loyal Falkor chose to join you. His own end was also quite close, this he was aware of...and he could not just leave you, the one who fed him such delicious treats and gave such kind belly rubs, to depart this world alone."

My sorrow only quadrupled, and my soulspark shuddered. "Oh dear..." Laurelin murmured. "I...I apologize. I had not expected his will to overpower his instinct to survive. He was not supposed to perish like that, but rather in his sleep, quietly and peacefully."

"Laurelin..." I finally croaked with whatever I was using to produce my voice, "That's not...it's not helping. I...I'm glad I know, but..." The sorrow now mixed with guilt, as I had to come to terms with the fact that my friendly, derpy boi had gone out with me, because I was getting isekai'd, apparently. Because that was a thing that actually happened, apparently. The nerdy weeb within me was, admittedly, hyped, but the cost had been poor Falkor... Questions began forming within what was left of my mind, but Laurelin remained silent, letting me process and cope. Mentally, silently, I asked if she could hear my thoughts. She didn't answer, but I wasn't entirely convinced.

Regardless, this information created a new resolve in me. If I was going to get yeeted to another life in another world to solve its problems for what seemed to be a genuinely Good aligned Deity, I was going to do it right, dammit. Finally, I said, "Tell me...of Arcadia." I knew of the name, that it had, if I recalled correctly, Grecian origins, related to a lush and verdant paradise. I also had enough pop culture awareness to recognize her own name, and the Legends from whence it came. That alone was quite interesting to my nerdy disembodied ass, but I resolved to save the topic for perhaps a more appropriate time. As kind a Goddess as Laurelin was, I knew there was likely a limit to what she would divulge here, at the start of whatever otherwordly madness awaited me.

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Laurelin smiled at me, and said, "Arcadia is a verdant and magic-filled paradise, created by myself and my beloved husband, but it is teetering on the edge of stagnation and corruption. The magically gifted ruling elites of our society, known to all as the Arc Wardens, have grown complacent, and those without enough magical power to become adventurers or nobility suffer under their rule. The Arc Wardens and those with powerful magic make up about five percent of Arcadia's roughly two billion souls. The rest, are relegated to lower caste lives, and often they suffer for it. The peaceful balance of life and magic that my world was founded upon is eroding, thanks to the steps we have had to take in response to...to..."

Her voice grew somber, and the golden glow around her dimmed slightly as she continued her exposition dump. "In response to the barbaric actions of my son. Once a paragon of noble competition and honor, he has fallen into...pure darkness. He sows chaos and strife, and and revels in slaughter. The Mortals who worship him change into monstrous forms. To sow the chaos and disorder he desires, he has been unleashing the arbiters of his will who have been blessed by shards of his Divine power. My people have named them Demon Lords. The children of my world cry out for a savior, and...I still hold hope that, some how, some day, my beloved Dagorion will come to his senses and repent his dark deeds...though at this point...I know not if Arcadia will let him."

I frowned, trying to take it all in. "But...why choose me? I mean...I've been aware I'm kinder than most other Humans for some time now, but I'm not a saint. There are those in my world who I genuinely hated. And honestly, Goddess Laurelin...it sounds like those corrupting your world are not so different from the kind of people I despised. People born with privilege, who abuse it at every opportunity." At the very least, I hoped they weren't also pedophiles.

Her gaze softened. "You are far more than your emotions, dear Hero. Your strong moral fiber, your capacity for compassion, and your willingness to act in the face of fear, all these qualities make you the perfect candidate, and...I know well that there will be bloodshed, if and when the ruling Arc Wardens and the hierarchy they have created are overturned. I would have you guide them, and those who come after them, as best you can. I will, of course, aid you in this, as will my husband, the God of Magic, Galdurath. Arcadia needs someone who understands the value of Balance, someone who can inspire change, and guide them back to the right path. Together, I believe we can accomplish this."

"So, save your world from overpowered magical elitists, save the soul of a corrupted Dark God, and guide your completely foreign society back to the right moral path...no pressure..." I muttered at the end of my recap, earning another chuckle from her. "Alright, let’s say I agree. What’s the plan?"

Her mirth faded once again. "I believe your world is familiar with this concept, of being brought to another world during your life, or upon your death. Though many among you believe it to be mere fantasy. In keeping with your culture, I shall grant you three Boons, to aid you in your next life. You may decide what they are for yourself."

I frowned, but then remembered, I no longer had a face. "So...what are my limitations, exactly?"

Laurelin smirked at me, a glint of mischief in her divine eyes. "What limits do you believe a Deity possesses? There is not much I could not grant you, Hero."

A little exasperated, I responded, "Could...you give me an example?"

Her smirk widened. "If you desire the ability to travel time with a magical musical instrument whilst wielding a powerful and somewhat sentient sword, complete with green clothing and a kit of various and useful tools, I could make it so. If you wish for your body to be able to enter a 'Super' state, by perhaps becoming more muscular, blonde haired, and ever more powerful, even when you're beaten to within an inch of your life, that is within my power. If you desire Telekinesis, and the ability to influence thoughts and reality itself, whilst clad in stately brown robes and armed with a sword of focused plasma, I could make that happen as well. The plasma swords, Lightsabers, I believe your people called them, are quite a popular choice."

I was, in a word, stunned. "I...I don't even...You're telling me I could be a time-traveling Super Saiyan with a freaking Lightsaber!?" I said, combining all three, to test the boundaries of her offer. Once more, she chuckled.

"Complete with a sentient blue time traveling phone box, if you wish it."

My disbelief magnified. "That's just...what even...HOW!? How do you even know all these...oh, right, Deity, I guess there's some level of Omnipotence, but you said other Universes have Lightsabers too? Like...what? Help me understand, please."

Laurelin seemed quite amused by my emotional state, but for me, it felt like an emotional roller coaster. Mercifully, she exposited some more information for my whirling mind. "I can confirm for you; the Multiverse is incomprehensibly vast, and the tropes and heroes you spent your life learning of may very well exist, somewhere within it, in some form. Likely, a form you're familiar with, studious pop culture enjoyer that you were. Mortal cultures are often affected by what Galdurath, myself, and other beings on our level call Dimensional Echoes. These echoes are like...waves of energy that effect a part of reality your species, in your Universe at least, has yet to understand, or even discover provably exists. These waves have patterns embedded into them which radiate across the entirety of the Multiverse, and have a habit of manifesting in forms that you, and your considerable collection of cultural knowledge, will likely recognize, if you choose the ability to traverse the Multiverse as one of your Boons."

"I'm...I'm gonna need a minute..." I said, properly stunned. It was all a bit much. After a moment, I said, "Does it have to be three? Can I acquire more Boons? Can you give me, say, five instead of three?"

Her kind eyes turned sharper, as she stared at the energy that comprised my soul. "You are well aware the dangers of Greed, young Hero. However...because the task I have given you is so monumental, and dear to my heart, I will tell you this: there are limits. Your Boons will grow and change, as you do in Arcadia, but they will start off comparatively weak. Your actions and efforts will be the catalyst for this change. To answer your question...yes. You may acquire more than three. I will not yet divulge how, though, nor will I grant more than three, at this point. On Arcadia, great deeds are heavily rewarded, so I recommend choosing Boons that will help you achieve that greatness."

Slight panic set in, as I realized I could very easily screw myself with the wrong setup, but thankfully, I'd seen that done before, and had a general idea of what would likely end up being useful in a reincarnation situation. One thing was clear, though. I needed more context. Cautious of the new sharpness in her kind eyes, I probed some more. "In most examples of this scenario on my world, the Heroes in question often end up with surprise or unexpected, but not unwelcome, aid from their Divine patrons in the form of minor blessings. Should I expect the same? And if so, could you tell me what they are? I don't want to waste such an important gift on overlap."

Laurelin was quiet for longer than expected, and I started to wonder if I'd overstepped. Finally, she spoke. "Your new body will possess the magical potential of an Arc Warden. This will inevitably cement your status among the magical elite, for there are good souls among them that could become Great, with the right guidance. With this potential, will come access to what we call Status Magic, a concept I believe you should be familiar with. It will provide a display not unlike your 'video games' to aid you in managing your skills, attributes, and any items you gather. You will also be able to manipulate your natural magical energy in whatever manner you desire, though on Arcadia, this is primarily done by casting what your people call Spells. In addition to that, you will speak and understand the spoken and written language of my world, without having to learn it the hard way."

I nodded, which equated to me bobbing up and down in place. "I umm, assume your world has some form of currency, as well?"

Laurelin nodded. "Your skills will allow you to acquire as much as you need, provided you make the effort."

Painfully aware that her answers were getting shorter and less expository, I thought quickly and quietly, for a long time.

If Arcadia was a world inundated with, assuming the Goddess was accurate and truthful, around one hundred million magically gifted people who, if the 'Dimensional Echo' pattern held, were likely some kind of adventurer ranked by skill and magical aptitude, then there was no point in asking for ninth level spells. If spells could be cast, I had no doubt they could be Counterspelled, and it was here that my D&D knowledge blended with anime, as I recalled a particular protagonist who was famous, or perhaps more accurately infamous for his unique and unprecedented ability to literally cut through the absurdly powerful spells the wizards in his universe had at their disposal with his giant black devil sword. I wasn't obnoxiously loud and energetic, nor would I be declaring myself the Wizard King, but if I wanted fame, breaking people's magic on a world that seemed to be all but drowning in it was a good way to get noticed.

Being a powerful spellcaster among powerful spellcasters would not be enough to do what Laurelin desired of me. I had to connect with both the overpowered magical elite, and the downtrodden and likely less magically gifted lower castes of her society, if I wanted to truly bring about lasting changes. Thus, I tentatively asked another question unrelated to Boons. "Goddess Laurelin," I started with respect in my tone, "I believe I have the shape of what I will need for my first Boons. But...I do need to know...do all people of Arcadia have magic within them? Or are there those born without any at all?"

She blinked, her eyes becoming less intense as she seemed...genuinely confused as to why I wanted, nay, needed to know. "It is...exceedingly rare for someone to be born without any magic within them whatsoever. My Galdurath's blessings upon the world and his role in its creation guarantee that. There are methods of stripping someone's magical power away...but only if they are already very magically weak, and possess a truly small amount of power. Most of our technology requires at least a tiny bit of magic for the people to use it."

I asked for more exposition, then. What kind of races lived there? Were those with magic organized into a hierarchy below Arc Wardens? Did the various races and beastfolk get along, or were they divided and prejudiced? What stats and attributes exactly, did Status Magic display, and what exactly did each one connect to?

I learned Arcadia had a veritable kaleidoscope of sentient species, there was indeed an Adventurer's Guild, complete with ranking system, quests, and even loot-spawning Dungeons (which would be the main source of my monetary wealth, apparently), and that all these races did in fact get along. There were exceptions of course, the all too familiar mindsets of those who claimed their kind was somehow naturally superior to everyone else, but it seemed Laurelin and Galdurath had done a fantastic job of nipping prejudice in the bud. This made my job infinitely easier.

Attributes and stats, praise the Goddess, were apparently the same as they tended to be universally. Intelligence was linked to magic power, and spell potency. Strength would make me hit things harder, make me able to last longer in fights, take more heavy hits and be able to stay alive and standing, and able to lift increasingly heavier objects. Dexterity helped with dodging, sneakiness, and things like shooting arrows, mastering single handed light blades and their sword styles, or throwing knives. Charisma would help with social situations, and could apparently cure even my natural awkwardness, or so Laurelin had assured me. I would need all of them, to be capable of facing down a God, and convincing him to end his millennia long efforts to create chaos and disorder.

To my great joy for the plan forming within my mind, stamina was, apparently, not a measured stat. One's 'hit points' as I'd called them, were directly tied to one's physical strength stat, and automagically grew as one increased their overall level. Levels, I had learned, also increased all of these stats by at least one point, so my goal was not impossible, but, I had been warned that the stronger I grew, the more likely that my levels would result in boosting some stats and not others, depending on the path I took. If I neglected any, it would, eventually, show up as a price I would have to pay.

"Alright, fair Goddess." I said, projecting confidence, as a plan came together. "I am decided on my initial Boons." Laurelin's eyes widened, and the smile had returned. I hoped she was even more convinced of my worthiness, after my lengthy adjustment period to the fact that I was dead, so was my little floofy buddy, and the fact that I was apparently being isekai'd. Hopefully, my choices didn't disappoint her, or end up being objectively useless.

"First!" I practically shouted, "I want my new body to be extremely durable! I want to be able to tank a hit from Truck-kun, and live! Just make me extremely, naturally, tough!" That made her smile, but she nodded. This was, by far, my most selfish Boon. After breaking twice in my last life, I was absolutely terrified of what the beasts she had mentioned could and would do to me. But so long as my body wasn't as fragile as a basic human's, I could be exactly who she wanted me to be, I was sure. It also played into my plan pretty cleverly, at least from my perspective. Time would tell if I was right.

"Second!" I continued, "I want to greatly increase my Intelligence stat from the jump, so that I can bring my considerable knowledge of Kung Fu, specifically the Martial Arts, with me to Arcadia! I also believe the knowledge I accrued in my past life, especially the knowledge related to the philosophies behind Kung Fu will greatly aid your world." To be clear, I'd never been in a proper contest of the physical arts of Kung Fu, mainly because of my lack of physical fitness and then my injury, but I had learned the forms and practiced them, and with a body that wouldn't break, as well as Status Magic, a whole world of possibilities opened up before me.

It was here, that the Goddess interjected. "You may bring a Master's level of Martial Arts knowledge of a single Martial Art Style with you, not all of them. I will allow you to develop, learn, and master the ones you do not initially choose over time. Furthermore, you may keep some pieces of your previous life's knowledge, but things like, for example, how to split an Atom, or how your murderous Firearms work, will be erased."

I frowned a bit at that, or would have if I had a face, so instead I bobbed in place again. "In that case, I choose the Dragon Style. I'd still like to remember what I knew of Science though, Goddess. It's going to be a big help if I can convince the Arc Warden elites to listen or hear me out in exchange for otherwordly techniques and knowledge related to physics, fuel sources, and even crop farming. I spent much of my last life learning all sorts of useful things...though I uhh, never really got a chance to actually do most of them, or make use of said knowledge."

Laurelin was quiet for a moment, and then nodded. "I can sense your pure intentions. I will not cripple your understanding of your Earth Sciences, but know this: should you try to recreate your radioactive death bombs, your hand-held murder machines, or any other of the many devices you Earthlings use to slaughter each other, I will scrub your knowledge completely, and without warning. You may even not survive the process, or be left in a vegetative state for a time as a result."

I gulped audibly, despite not currently having a throat. "I'd never dream of creating such things, Goddess. Like you seem to...I also despise guns and nuclear weapons. My world started spiraling into the shitshow it's currently in once we advanced those two technologies specifically...and it's not going to get any better. You have my word, I will not deliver the knowledge of how to more efficiently end innocent lives to Arcadia, and if you wish it of me, I will even personally scour such knowledge so that it never has a chance to manifest, if you want me to." I figured a Fireball must be just as deadly as a gun, but for all I knew, there were wards to prevent casting spells for war in Arcadia's cities. Or, there were no such wards, and Laurelin simply wished for there not to be yet another way to easily take someone's life, on her planet. I got the sense she was very tired of seeing her children die to her son's wars, and the oppression of the caste system.

"Finally..." I said, somewhat less excitedly, as I knew my final Boon, that was probably closer to a Wish, in D&D terms. It was one I'd had since I'd manifested here, and learned what had befallen me, and my favorite floofy friend. "I want Falkor to come with me. He's a good boy...and he lost what time he had left of his comfy life because of me, short though it apparently was. That doggo lived every day to its fullest, and seemed to enjoy every minute. The least I can do is let him take part in my new one, and...it'd be nice to have someone from home, with me. So I don't get too homesick."

Laurelin's face shifted to a new expression then, and it took me longer than it perhaps should have to realize I'd made a Goddess tear up. "The love you two have for each other...genuinely stirs my heart. That Boon, my Hero, you can have for free. United in Death, you shall be united again in your new Life." Her hands moved, and glowed with golden light, then, a moment later, a smaller spark of energy not unlike mine, appeared in this golden voidplane alongside myself and Laurelin. Again, I felt the urge to tear up, as I heard Falkor's bark, and again, I had no eyes with which to cry.

"Heyyy, buddy." I said, and the bright little spark radiated excitement, and palpable joy as he heard my voice. I always knew I was one of his favorite humans, and in his long life at the shelter he'd had many, but it seemed I had greatly underestimated just how much he liked me. It made my soulspark shine a little brighter.

Laurelin gave us a moment as Falkor's spark excitedly bobbed around mine, and then quietly 'ahemmed'.

"Ahh, right, sorry." I said, still overcome with happiness that Falkor was even still here. She was really testing my emotional range today. "In that case...I want my final Boon to be a new body for Falkor. I want him to be a Dragon. But not just any Dragon..." I said, chuckling as I spoke, "He should be as his namesake was. A Luckdragon. A wise, friendly being, who has Fate on their side. The ability to fly the skies of Arcadia, his own magical abilities and stats, and...most importantly...I want him to be able to speak and understand Language, as we do."

Laurelin wiped another tear away, and nodded, giving us a large, genuine, and downright beautiful smile. Galdurath was a lucky man...God. "A worthy Boon for a worthy soul, and one easily granted. I had worried that Arcadia and the life you would lead would be a bit...rough for one as small and fluffy as Falkor was, but this Boon has rectified my concern. He will be a companion to you for as long as your new life lasts, and when it does eventually end again, some day, you will depart to whatever comes next together." Her smile faltered slightly, then. "On Arcadia...Dragons are historically seen as the greatest of my son's dark abominations. It took him many centuries to perfect the attributes you would give to a Dragon, but he did eventually succeed in creating them, and the devastation they wrought is not easily forgotten. Falkor shall bear my mark upon his brow, and his eyes shall shine with my Light. All who look upon him will know him as a Dragon created for good...and in time, who knows?" The author of every biological entity on Arcadia gave us a playful smirk. "Perhaps Falkor will not be the only Luckdragon."

The three of us laughed, and then Laurelin raised her hands, as they shone again with her divine power. "In your time deciding your Boons, we have managed to return to the space that Arcadia resides in. From this point on, your Path is your own, Hero. When next we meet, it will be on my beloved Arcadia."

The world went white again, but now, as before, Falkor was with me, and I could sense him. Feel him, actually. And also literally. As in, with the sense of touch common to sentient beings. A musty, but not unpleasant smell filled what I recognized as my nose, though I could immediately tell it had changed in both size and shape. Bit by bit, my senses reconnected with my new body, and by the time I opened my eyes, I could literally feel it in my bones. I was strong. Durable. Whole, and unbroken. The pain that had plagued the latter half of my Earthly life was finally, mercifully gone, and I felt better than I had in decades. Perhaps I really had been sick, back on Earth. Or something. It was unnerving to think I'd almost suffered a worse fate than getting mowed down by Truck-kun. I truly owed Goddess Laurelin, and resolved then, as I opened my new, still blue eyes, that I would help her recover her clearly dearly beloved son. Even if it killed me. Even if he broke me, for fun, a thousand times over.

No longer was I on the boring, Godless, and downright murderous planet Earth. This was a world that had been created and blessed by not one but two Gods, one who I had yet to even meet, and no matter how badly I broke here, I knew from Laurelin's description that healing magic, her magic, could repair me fully. I realized as I looked around the fairly well furnished bedroom we'd appeared in, just how raw of a deal we had back on Earth. For the last time in hopefully a long time, I put the thoughts of my depressingly doomed old world aside, and found a mirror.

My eyes were drawn first, to Falkor. I smirked, as apparently Laurelin either didn't know that Luckdragons, at least those from Fantasia, actually looked remarkably like dogs, or she had purposefully decided to mold his new and evidently quite young body after what dragons looked like on this world. His scales were white, his underbelly was soft, leathery, and a fitting creamy brown, he had two folded white wings, and their leathery flaps were also the same creamy brown. His eyes lacked pupils, and shone with an energetic golden light. As promised, upon his brown and just under his tiny pair of golden brown horns that were the same color as his claws, I could see the symbol of a golden tree that rose from his eyebrows to the beginning of the small white spikes that formed a crest on his head, and went all the way down to his lizard-like tail. His body was serpentine like a Chinese dragon, but he had the four legs and two wings of a western one as well. His tiny claws gripped my arm, and to my immense satisfaction, I barely felt any pain or discomfort from them.

Then, I saw myself. My eyes were, in fact, the exact same, but that was all I'd retained from my Earth body. I was young, I realized, as I raised a hand to feel my beardless face. Too young to even grow a beard. I immediately cast my eyes downward, and started examining my new, durable body from the bottom up, my new brow furrowing as I saw fine dark leather shoes on my large feet, a pair of pressed and quality black pants covering my male parts, and a royal blue school blazer trimmed with gold. It was most definitely a posh school uniform, and even had a name tag on the breast pocket. I squinted at it, and smirked. "Drake Long? Is...is that my name? Isn't that just...dragon dragon?" I was fairly sure, at least on Earth, that 'Long' was Chinese for 'dragon', like Kung Fu was Chinese for Martial Arts. Kind of. My old Earth memory flared up as I rolled the name in my head. Drake Long. I didn't dislike it, at all, but there was...something very familiar about it. Something I felt like I should have been able to remember, and would later hit myself for not immediately realizing.

Then, finally, and somewhat hesitantly, I looked at what I had to work with in terms of my new face. I'd gotten a bit of a peek, seeing my eyes, but I'd quickly cast them downwards. Falkor was draped regally around my broad shoulders, and I realized that I'd probably end up being the same height as I'd been on Earth, once I was no longer a fucking teenager. I spoke my first words in Arcadia then, as I took in my face, and unfurrowed my new, well-kept and less bushy eyebrows. My voice wasn't quite as deep, at least not yet anyway. "Ho-lee shit. I'm a teen!" I said, purposefully raising my voice, and to my chagrin, making it crack like it had the first time I'd suffered through puberty. "And...and I'm hot!?"

In my first life, I'd never really been able to tell what women qualified as attractive, for men. Or if I fit those parameters. I'd never asked, and only two women had confirmed I'd been easy on the eyes, though that was mostly because my own eyes had been, in their words, 'dreamy'. I could admit they had been my best feature, but now, I had multiple best features. A strong jawline, classically good looks, even with my face in an expression of shock, and topped off with slightly curly and somehow fitting isekai protagonist hair. It was shorter than my last body's, and I had a feeling that was because of whatever dress code this school I was apparently enrolled in had. Falkor huffed a chuckle on my shoulders, and I heard his voice for the first time. He sounded young, but there was still a rich tone to it that was deeper than my own.

"Handsome!" He boomed in my brain, and I had to admit, he was right.

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