The Accidental Savior

Nick leaned against the smooth, glowing surface of the Nexus Chamber floor, rubbing his temples. The glowing doors around him pulsed faintly, their light illuminating the void like floating sentinels. He glanced at the Good God, who was standing—or more like floating—in their usual glowing glory.

"Alright, I need to ask," Nick began, crossing his arms. "Why me? Out of all the people in the multiverse, why not pick someone actually qualified? You know, like, I don't know—Goku? Saitama? Literally anyone with powers that can punch Chaos in the face?"

The Good God tilted their shimmering form slightly, their light pulsing as though they were... considering? Laughing? It was hard to tell.

"Your frustration is understandable," the Good God said, their voice calm and resonant. "But there are three critical reasons why you were chosen over those you call 'qualified.'"

Nick raised an eyebrow. "Oh, this should be good. Please, enlighten me. Preferably with a PowerPoint presentation and pie charts."

"Firstly," the Good God began, "the individuals you mention—heroes like Goku, Naruto, or Saitama—have roles to play within their worlds. They are vital to maintaining their own narratives. To remove them would destabilize their worlds entirely."

Nick blinked. "So, you're saying these guys are basically stuck playing their parts in their own soap operas?"

"In a manner of speaking, yes," the Good God replied.

Nick snorted. "Great. So I'm Plan B because Superman has a day job."

The Good God's light dimmed faintly, almost like a sigh. "You misunderstand. These individuals are bound by their worlds. Their existence is tied to their stories. They cannot leave without unraveling the balance we are striving to maintain."

"So, they're like those NPCs in video games who only say one line no matter how many times you click on them?" Nick asked, smirking.

The Good God hesitated. "If that analogy helps you comprehend, then... yes."

"And what about the slice-of-life characters?" Nick asked, throwing up his hands. "Surely someone like, I don't know, Toru Honda from Fruits Basket could do better than me. She's basically perfect at making people feel better."

"Even in slice-of-life worlds, every individual has a role," the Good God explained. "Their stories, while less dramatic, are no less vital to the fabric of the multiverse. A protagonist, a support character, even a background extra—all contribute to their world's balance."

Nick scratched his head. "So... you're saying if one high school love triangle goes off the rails, the multiverse is doomed?"

"In a way, yes," the Good God said solemnly.

Nick groaned. "Great. Not only do I have to deal with dragons and demons, but I also have to make sure Timmy confesses to Susie before prom. Fantastic."

"And what about the third reason? What's so special about me—or, you know, Earth people in general?"

The Good God's light pulsed brighter. "Humans from Earth possess a unique adaptability to different energies. Unlike the beings within the anime worlds, who are inherently tied to specific power systems—magic, chakra, or quirks—Earthlings have no such limitations. This makes you more versatile in navigating the multiverse."

Nick raised an eyebrow. "So, let me get this straight. Because I'm a blank slate, I get to go play multiverse janitor while everyone else sticks to their lanes?"

"Precisely," the Good God said without a hint of irony.

Nick rolled his eyes. "Glad to know my lack of superpowers is finally paying off. I'll add 'cosmic adaptability' to my résumé right next to 'used to work at a coffee shop.'"

As if sensing Nick's growing irritation, the Good God gestured, and a faint shimmer appeared in the air. Slowly, a glowing object materialized—a sleek, translucent rectangle that hovered in front of Nick.

"What's this?" Nick asked, poking at the device.

"This is your connection to the Wives System," the Good God said.

Nick frowned. "Wait... is this a smartphone? Did you just hand me a divine iPhone?"

"It is an interface," the Good God corrected, "through which you will manage your bonds, abilities, and missions."

Nick held up the device, squinting at it. "So, what? I just swipe left to find allies? Does it have Tinder for wives?"

The Good God hesitated. "The interface allows you to track your progress, review your abilities, and receive guidance from the system's artificial intelligence."

Nick tapped the screen, and a cheerful voice chimed, "Hello, Nick! Welcome to the Wives System! Let's build some meaningful connections!"

Nick nearly dropped the device. "It talks?!"

"Indeed," the Good God said. "The AI will assist you in navigating the system's complexities."

Nick stared at the glowing screen as the AI continued cheerfully. "Remember: strong bonds lead to stronger abilities! Let's grow together!"

"Why does this sound like a motivational seminar?" Nick muttered.

The Good God gestured, and a new panel appeared in the air, displaying glowing text:

Rules of Multiversal Travel:

One World at a Time: You cannot leave a world until its critical events are resolved.

Energy Limitations: Each jump consumes Nexus Energy, which regenerates slowly or through special missions.

No Power Mixing: Abilities gained in one world cannot be used in another. Adaptation is key.

Anchor Point: Harmony Haven serves as your base of operations.

Protagonist Syncing: Your age is synced to the age of each world's protagonist.

Nick froze mid-scroll. "Hold on. What was that last part? My age is synced to the protagonist? What does that even mean?"

"It means," the Good God explained, "that you will always be the same age as the main protagonist of the world you enter."

Nick's mouth fell open. "So if I go to Demon Slayer, Tanjiro's going to be seven? What kind of child labor setup is this?"

The Good God remained calm. "This synchronization ensures that you integrate seamlessly into each world. It also levels the playing field, ensuring you cannot overpower the protagonists."

Nick groaned, dropping his face into his hands. "Great. Just great. I'm not just a cosmic janitor—I'm a cosmic babysitter now too."

Nick sighed, glancing at the next rule. "Alright, let's talk about this 'Harmony Haven' thing. What's the deal with the anchor point?"

"Harmony Haven," the Good God said, "is a slice-of-life world that serves as the final barrier between the multiverse and Earth. It is your place of rest, a sanctuary where you may recover and prepare for the challenges ahead."

Nick frowned. "So, it's a spa day between monster fights?"

"In a sense," the Good God replied. "However, the peace of Harmony Haven is not absolute. Should chaos weaken the multiverse enough, Harmony Haven will be the first world to feel its effects."

Nick rubbed his temples. "So even my vacation spot is a disaster waiting to happen. Lovely."