In Lookism as the MOAB

The man stood on a vast plain of shimmering galaxy sand, the stars swirling and bending around him in all directions. Above him, a figure so enormous that it seemed to blend with the cosmos gazed down. This being wasn't just large—it was cosmic, its body rippling with the essence of space itself, eyes like nebulae swirling with power.

"So, you're telling me," the man spoke, glancing at the ever-expanding figure, "that I get one wish because you messed up and I died?"

The figure's deep, echoing voice resonated through the void. "Yes, that's essentially it."

At first, the man just stood there, dumbfounded. But then, like a spark catching fire, something clicked in his brain. His face lit up, and before he could stop himself, he burst into hysterical laughter. He began to leap around wildly, arms flailing like a crazed monkey, kicking up stardust beneath his feet.

"Oh my god, oh my god, oh my FUCKING GOD!" he exclaimed, twirling in the galactic sand. "This is it! This is the moment! I've spent my whole life watching reincarnation manga, bingeing anime, reading every goddamn story about people getting a second chance...and now I'm getting mine! I don't know if anyone has ever been so grateful to die because of a celestial screw-up!"

The man continued his ridiculous dance, laughing uncontrollably, when suddenly, the colossal figure's voice cut through his glee like a thunderclap.

"Not what you are thinking," the figure rumbled. "You won't retain any of your memories in this new life."

The man froze mid-dance, his feet suddenly leaden, and his face lost all its joy. Slowly, he turned to face the figure, eyes wide in disbelief. "Wait...what? You're saying I won't remember anything? None of this? Not even my past life?"

The figure, unbothered by the man's shock, shrugged in a way only a cosmic entity could, the stars shifting in time with its casual gesture. "Yes. No memories. You'll be reborn completely clean. No recollections of your past, your desires, your goals. It'll be as if you never existed."

"But...but what's the point, then? I'm practically dead!" the man blurted out, now flailing his arms, not in joy but in panic. "How is this fair? I thought this was my reward for...for dying because of your mistake!"

"Listen, it's not really my problem," the figure said, almost bored. "Worst case scenario, someone complains to the Higher Celestials, and I might get my license suspended for 300 years. But honestly? I couldn't care less." The figure paused, a grin seeming to form among the stars of its face. "So...do you want to go through with this or not?"

The man slumped to the ground in utter defeat. His once bright eyes now dimmed as the weight of his situation settled on him. His excitement drained as quickly as it had come, and now all that remained was a hollow feeling. His dream of reincarnation was about to be shattered unless...he found a loophole.

The figure hovered silently for what felt like an eternity. After five long minutes, it spoke again. "So, have you made up your mind?"

The man, still seated in the sand, muttered bitterly under his breath, "Screw you..."

But then, an idea took shape. He began to think deeply. If I don't know which world I'll end up in...if I don't know what powers I might get...then the only thing I can rely on is my mind. My memories. He nodded slowly to himself, conviction settling in.

Standing up and brushing the galaxy dust off his clothes, he locked eyes with the gigantic entity. "Alright, I've decided. My wish...is to keep my memories. That's all I want. I don't need superpowers or riches or immortality. Just let me keep my memories."

The figure's eyes glowed brighter for a moment, a low rumble of amusement vibrating through the very stars around them, bending the space around it. "Very well. I'll grant that."

With a snap of its colossal fingers, a giant, glowing wheel appeared in the space between them, towering over the man like a monument. The wheel had countless names, places, and symbols etched into it in an array of languages that no mortal could understand.

The figure gave it a push, and the wheel began to spin, whirring and clanking as it did. The man watched with a mixture of curiosity and dread. It felt like a cosmic game show—his fate hanging on wherever the wheel decided to stop. The wheel slowed, the clicking sounds growing softer until it landed on a glowing section labeled "P.T.J."

"P.T.J.?" The man squinted at the letters, confused. "What the hell is that?"

Suddenly, it hit him like a bolt of lightning. "Wait...P.T.J.?" he gasped, eyes widening in realization. "Isn't that the world where Lookism and Viral Hit happen?! You've gotta be kidding me! I wanted to end up somewhere with magic or lightsabers, not a place filled with teenage delinquents and street fights!"

The figure chuckled, clearly amused by the man's disappointment. "Well, it seems that's your destination. No magic, no superpowers...just fists and survival in a world of gangs. Good luck."

Before the man could protest, the cosmic figure snapped its fingers once more, and reality itself began to warp and twist. The stars folded in on themselves, the galaxy sand swirled into a vortex, and everything went dark. The man's body felt like it was being pulled apart and put back together all at once, a strange, weightless sensation taking over as he slipped into unconsciousness.

His last coherent thought before he faded away was: At least I'll still have my memories...But wait, will I still be a man? A human? FUCK YOU, SON OF A B—