Gacha Is Bad Civilization 1

"Come on, come on! Show me the goods, gacha lords." I say as I roll for some new characters on Genshin Impact after the latest update. I have been trying to roll on some of the new banners that came out.

Yet, after multiple attempts, all I have been getting are items and repeats. My disappointment is immeasurable, and my time has been wasted, but looking at Ganyu makes me feel better.

However, I should go back to Yugioh Duel Links for a while as a new Kaiba Corp Tournament event has started, and I need those free gems to complete my Galaxy-Eyes deck and maybe start working on updating my blue eyes deck again. Sadly, they put more bans on various Dark Magician cards.

So, exiting off the PC, I turned on my phone and watched the cinematic of Kaiba injuring the tournament again, but as the cinematic ended, my phone turned off, and I assumed it died, which, while annoying, is not unexpected as with my job and various games I sometimes forget to charge it.

Standing up from my chair, I go to retrieve my phone charger but then decide against it as it seems I have lost track of time again. Looking at my clock, which shows 10:00 pm, I groan, knowing that I have work tomorrow. Adulting is so much fun.

The only positive to adulting is that it gives me the money to feed my addiction, that being gacha, and luckily, I have resisted playing FGO as knowing my self-control or lack thereof, I would be penniless in a week. With that thought, I take off my clothes, place them in the clothes bin, and hit the hay.

"Another day, another twenty-four hours to gain in order to feed the gacha lords," I mutter to myself as the dream takes me, and to say I had a nightmare was an understatement as I saw in front of me Lucifer Morningstar, the devil himself.

Is it wrong that I was a fan of his show? I question as the blond man simply sips his martini while both of us stand over what seems like the source wall from DC, to which he merely smiles and says, " Welcome to my humble multiverse stranger, and to what reason are you here exactly?" My blood runs cold as I answer him with complete honesty: " I have no idea. I was just going to sleep, and now I am here."

The man stares at me for what feels like years, and as he raises his hand, I flinch, hoping my death is painless. He just refills his drink and begins to laugh. "HAHAHAHA! Ah! That never gets old, even after millions of years. But regardless, I believe I know what happened."

After saying that, he summoned a chair using the surrounding energy to which he bids me to sit. I sat, and not wanting to be rude to the son of God, I sat down, and he began to explain, "Placed stranger, you seem to have begun the process of dream walking. It is extraordinarily rare, but it is a process where a copy of one person will, when falling asleep, inhabit their other versions, and it seems like you were about to do so. Still, me sensing an intrusion investigated finding you."

The explanation both makes sense and, at the same time, doesn't. As if sensing my confusion, he says with a groan, " I understand that your mortal mind cannot comprehend the various complications that come with dream walking, and even then the process itself is mostly harmless as you simply live out the day of one of your altars and then go back to your own body believing that one day was a dream. But to be honest, you should be thanking me."

"I am afraid to ask, but why should I thank you other than not destroying me on sight?" The angel then shows an image that being of myself but in a bathtub with a razor on the ground and blood pooling at the bathtub's feet. The sight makes me feel sick, and as I go to throw up, he summons a trash can at my feet.

After positively throwing up my extra-dimensional lunch, he explains, " It seems that if you were to enter that body, you would have died both the soul of that body and you at the same time, which can happen, but the odds are nearly impossible. Call you lucky, but that would feel a bit redundant."

Feeling a bit irritated, I ask, " So I assume you are enjoying my pain right now. My other self seemed young and barely out of sophomore year in high school."

The man then takes another sip and dispels the image, and after standing up, he begins again, "I have watched This Multiverse since its inception. Ever since I was cast down. I have seen every single universe that this Multiverse has to offer, from the universes controlled by Trigon to Darkseid to paradise worlds controlled by the Justice Lords or the One Earth Government. The Monitors and Perpetua were mere children when the Presence created this entire multiverse. I have seen gods die and be reborn over and over again. I have inflicted pain and suffering for eons, and now I am bored."

His power then retreats as his form that once embodied the demiurge returns to a suit and golden-haired man. He then takes another drink and finishes, " While your pain is ironic, it does not bring me joy anymore. Do not believe yourself so arrogant that you can think to understand me." Lucifer, as quickly as he appeared, then began to disappear. "Even I do not know what is going to happen to you, but considering the fact that you were respectful and that little question there, in the end, was a small slight, I do hope that your nonexistence is painless. Know that if I find you again, we shall have words. If you survive, of course."

As he disappeared into pure white feathers and my feet touched the Source Wall, it began s to envelop me, and as I screamed out for help or someone, I got no answer, and the wall absorbed me, and then I felt nothing.

And then I feel everything, and I feel pain unimaginable.

Lucifer POV:

After leaving that soul to its fate, I see my brother in my seat in Hell, to which I ask, " Ah, brother, to what do I owe the displeasure of your company? Do you seek to switch jobs because mine is always up for grabs? It's not exactly fun down here."

My brother, the bore he is, simply says, " You and I both know why I am here, brother. The soul should have been shepherded back to its dimension. Mortal as he was, his life was not meant to end there, and I saw his life. He was average but a decent man. I have seen you torture the deserving, but even I feel disgusted at your apathy."

Yawing while checking my watch, I respond, "Brother, he is but one soul in an infinite number. He means nothing. Why are you really here?" Michael, standing from the throne, walks over to me and says, " In our infinite Years, brother, I never knew you to be so careless. You have introduced a foreign soul to the source wall. Do you know the possible damage that Soul could do, even as small as it is. he was not about Father's design, so he has no place in it. It could rupture the fabric of reality. Do you truly feel nothing?"

Shaking my head, I held the soul of a sinner in my hand. His identity was that of a child predator, and he began to talk to my brother, "Do you truly believe that one soul can do so much? They are but specks of dust that blow away in the winds of fate and time. It's almost laughable how little faith you have in our father's Source wall. He is gone and forgotten. It is not pathy but truth."

Sitting on my throne, I stared down at him as he sighed in disappointment and said, "I hear not a logic, brother, but bias. There have been many a soul that has gone against fate and done the impossible look to the Justice League who have triumphed against Darkseid and the anti-monitor and a majority of our universes. Fate means little to them, even if we are not saved from it. Yet you believe so little? It seems your time in hell has made you even more of an old than before. Whatever happens with that soul will be in your hands. And remember that he is always watching. Goodbye, Lucifer."

Michael then teleports way, and I sit there on my throne in one of my many hells, knowing I am right. There is no strength in mortality. We are infinite, after all. We will always exist, as is our fate.

Grabbing another drink, I find it to taste terrible, and tossing the glass on the ground, I return to my club as I need a break. Let my Brother stew in his righteousness that soul will not save anything. No one can from what is coming.

I would know, after all.

-The Source Wall-

Ḑ̶̢̢̦̪͈̖̗̻̠̙̞͇̪̬̆̂̈́́̈́̎́̌͒́̔̚͠ò̸̤̈́̿̌̈̃ ̸̛̜̰̦̣̀̿̇y̴̡͔̙͇͕̱̭͚̺͆̀̇̈́̂̋͘͜͝ó̵̧̪̹̞̯̬̥̥͔̲̼̞̿̾̅̔̿̽͐̈́͆u̷̧̡̨͓̜̥̗͚̔̓́͂͑͆͊̚͠ ̷̥͕̜͓̣̦̂̏́̾̃̑̿̑͐̐͋̂̿̌̇w̸̥̞̲̆̔̔̐͗̄̐ị̸͚̬̎̃͒̅̐̉̎̅͌̽̂͘͝s̷̡̛̘̙̥̜̬͎͕͇̬̬̥͚̊̋̆̿͋͂̂̓́̾̽̋̕͠h̵̢̞̳́ ̸̡̜̬̣̗̜̙̖͈͈̋t̵̢̤̤̮͇͔̠͖̗͈̬̰̫͍̊̐̊͘ő̵̡̙͈͉̘̮̘̖̙̖̭̆́̓́͊͌̓̚͝ ̷̣̬̲̗͔͍̺͖͓̆̇̊̒̃͛̊̉̽̂̀̀͝l̴͈̦͕̪̝̰̻̼̿̍̂̃͆̀̍͐͒̉̽̽͑ͅi̸̻͉͚̖͗v̷̛̈͋͐̆͘͝͝ͅȩ̷̧̙̮̖͎̩̪͕͕̋͒̎̀̚͜?̶̨̧̛̛̰͇̬͚͇͈̺͎̙̤̙̐̉̏͌̀̏͛͛́͘͝͠

I have heard it say that over and over again. My name and life are forgotten in a sea of blinding numbers and endless shapes. I have seen the beginning and the end and have forgotten more than what the universe could remember.

Too much! It's too much!

Ḑ̶̢̢̦̪͈̖̗̻̠̙̞͇̪̬̆̂̈́́̈́̎́̌͒́̔̚͠ò̸̤̈́̿̌̈̃ ̸̛̜̰̦̣̀̿̇y̴̡͔̙͇͕̱̭͚̺͆̀̇̈́̂̋͘͜͝ó̵̧̪̹̞̯̬̥̥͔̲̼̞̿̾̅̔̿̽͐̈́͆u̷̧̡̨͓̜̥̗͚̔̓́͂͑͆͊̚͠ ̷̥͕̜͓̣̦̂̏́̾̃̑̿̑͐̐͋̂̿̌̇w̸̥̞̲̆̔̔̐͗̄̐ị̸͚̬̎̃͒̅̐̉̎̅͌̽̂͘͝s̷̡̛̘̙̥̜̬͎͕͇̬̬̥͚̊̋̆̿͋͂̂̓́̾̽̋̕͠h̵̢̞̳́ ̸̡̜̬̣̗̜̙̖͈͈̋t̵̢̤̤̮͇͔̠͖̗͈̬̰̫͍̊̐̊͘ő̵̡̙͈͉̘̮̘̖̙̖̭̆́̓́͊͌̓̚͝ ̷̣̬̲̗͔͍̺͖͓̆̇̊̒̃͛̊̉̽̂̀̀͝l̴͈̦͕̪̝̰̻̼̿̍̂̃͆̀̍͐͒̉̽̽͑ͅi̸̻͉͚̖͗v̷̛̈͋͐̆͘͝͝ͅȩ̷̧̙̮̖͎̩̪͕͕̋͒̎̀̚͜?̶̨̧̛̛̰͇̬͚͇͈̺͎̙̤̙̐̉̏͌̀̏͛͛́͘͝͠

Shut up! I yell out to the voice as the source itself holds me in place. It's like feeling your body melting over and over again and your mind expanding like a balloon so ready to pop, but it just won't, and not even mentioning my soul feeling like it had been stomped on my Darkseid and eaten by Doomsday.

I have seen too much. So much knowledge is almost unreadable. From life to anti-life, all knowledge exists here, but none at the same time. Source represents the beginning and the end, all of the knowledge stored across the Multiverse here, but it also represents the knowledge of the beginning. In the beginning, there was nothing.

Loneliness + alienation + fear + despair + self-worth ÷ mockery ÷ condemnation ÷ misunderstanding x guilt x shame x failure x judgment n=y where y=hope and n=folly, love=lies, life=death, self-

I am interrupted seeing it as it disappears. Yet, I can't help but feel myself slipping.

Ḑ̶̢̢̦̪͈̖̗̻̠̙̞͇̪̬̆̂̈́́̈́̎́̌͒́̔̚͠ò̸̤̈́̿̌̈̃ ̸̛̜̰̦̣̀̿̇y̴̡͔̙͇͕̱̭͚̺͆̀̇̈́̂̋͘͜͝ó̵̧̪̹̞̯̬̥̥͔̲̼̞̿̾̅̔̿̽͐̈́͆u̷̧̡̨͓̜̥̗͚̔̓́͂͑͆͊̚͠ ̷̥͕̜͓̣̦̂̏́̾̃̑̿̑͐̐͋̂̿̌̇w̸̥̞̲̆̔̔̐͗̄̐ị̸͚̬̎̃͒̅̐̉̎̅͌̽̂͘͝s̷̡̛̘̙̥̜̬͎͕͇̬̬̥͚̊̋̆̿͋͂̂̓́̾̽̋̕͠h̵̢̞̳́ ̸̡̜̬̣̗̜̙̖͈͈̋t̵̢̤̤̮͇͔̠͖̗͈̬̰̫͍̊̐̊͘ő̵̡̙͈͉̘̮̘̖̙̖̭̆́̓́͊͌̓̚͝ ̷̣̬̲̗͔͍̺͖͓̆̇̊̒̃͛̊̉̽̂̀̀͝l̴͈̦͕̪̝̰̻̼̿̍̂̃͆̀̍͐͒̉̽̽͑ͅi̸̻͉͚̖͗v̷̛̈͋͐̆͘͝͝ͅȩ̷̧̙̮̖͎̩̪͕͕̋͒̎̀̚͜?̶̨̧̛̛̰͇̬͚͇͈̺͎̙̤̙̐̉̏͌̀̏͛͛́͘͝͠

Be quiet! I scream as another wave of knowledge floods my mind—so much pain.

I haven't found anyone else, and I can't move. Why won't this end?

IF I GET OUT OF HERE, I WILL… I will… What will I do?

Who am I? What am I? The names and faces keep disappearing, and so much keeps shoving itself in my face. I keep seeing everything and nothing.

M̵̡͈̩͕̩̦̱̤͊́̾̿͌͌̓a̸̝̮̙̯̣̮͂̔̋k̴̰̘̱͍͙̍ͅe̷̢̢̙̭̤͈̦̝͚̿̽͗̑͗͊̉͜ ̵̲̻͎͙̹̳͈̇̓̈̕ỉ̸͔̳̖̗̟͎̬̮̉̏̓͋̃̐͊̑͌̏̚͝ț̵̡̰͍̲͎͙̲͔̙̱̯͛̋͗̆̾̅̍͜ ̷̦̙̯̞̥̱͔̪̪̃̇̂̈͌̄͛̉́͆͐̋͂̄̕͜S̷̪͈̲̏̈́̾̅͋̓̂̿͂ẗ̵̢̹̗̳̠̼̜̳̺̜̯̯̬̅̋̎́̈́̾̑̊̊͑̾̓̏͜͝ͅỏ̷͍̤͇̥́̆̓̆̒͋̑̏̚ͅp̵̡̛͈̟̹̫̦͔̩͖͒͂̋͛̈́̿̇̑̈͠!̶̛̼̞̺̠͋͆͌̍̿

Ḑ̷͔̼̠̙̭̖̀̍̋͆ͅŌ̶͕̼͓͍̗͒͑͒̿ ̵̧̛̤͍̥͎̻͉̝̤̯̘̯̞̱̦̌̾̉̏͘̚͝͠Y̵̰̤̲̠̹͕̭̒̒͗̐̄͊̋̀̊O̸̬̜̟͇̫͇̪̠̯̟͊̋̒̂ͅU̷̳̽͋͌͗̌̓̆̅̾̓͂͆̚͠ ̷̩͓͔͖̝̖̫̬̣̰̠̦̅͐̀̒̀ͅͅW̷̦̘̩̗͚̣̩̬̯̹̣͕̅͋́̓̀̋̓͊̍̂̉̑̓͝Í̴̢̛̼͈̼͖͚͍͚͉͇̜̋̉̑̊̍͗̓͒́̕͠S̸̢͚͕̹̟̳̾͐͆͗͂̍̇̈̎̃͝H̸̨͇͉̟͙̤̭̼̻̣̱̻̦͋̓̑ ̸̡̙̞͎̫̖̝̭̜̫͍̯̙̬̯͘T̸̢̲͕͌̐͛̔͂̑̏̈͆̚͜Ö̶̻̯̟̥̭̝̒̋̆̆̀͒̆́̒ͅL̷̨͇̘̜͙̼̈́̇̒̑͛̀̒ͅͅÍ̸̧̠̭̞̠͖̱͙̺̪̎̓̋͌̒͘̕V̷̨̧͉̻̰̤̦̳̯̺͚͑̓̃̈̌̓̏͛̋̚͝Ȩ̷̨̨̡̟̗̱̺̖̗͓̅̆̾̌̈̄͜!̴̙̞̟̒

Yes, I do! I want to remember! I can't forget! I am... I am?

I have no name. Can you give me one?

The voice simply says, " Create your own."

I then go dark as I float through endless darkness and see it. The infinite expanse of something in the black. I saw an empty and clenched hand, and as it turned to me, we stared at one another for what felt like an eternity. As it reached out one of its fingers, it touched me, and I was forced away.

Not noticing a dark power enter my soul. Yet as I flew through the endless expanse, another thing entered my soul: a small vial of multicolored liquid, and it seemed to fuse with the darkness. Creating something new.

The rest is unclear as I wake up and see a small screen in front of my face, and all it says is something that feels familiar.

[Would you like to spend your free ten rolls?]