Prologue: For The Love Of God Please Don’t Reincarnate Me Please Holy Shi-
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Grant Flincher was on his way home from the library when it happened. He was walking across the street with his headphones in his ears, trying to think up a new idea for a story to post on his favorite site Scribblehub.com.

"Hmmm... maybe I should try an isekai? I haven't tried to write one in a while, but it seems to be the most popular genre." Grant shoved his hands in his pockets, dreading the thought. He hated isekais, but he always liked seeing a big number of views on his stories. "God, but what can you do that hasn't been done before with an isekai? There's a thousand of them! And writing those boring stat blocks seems like such a chore..."

He didn't even know who the hell liked isekai. It was always boring and predictable, the definition of formulaic: someone would get hit by a truck, then wake up in front of some goddess, then be resurrected in a boilerplate Tolkien-inspired fantasy setting as either a more powerful version of themself, a little girl, some kinda stupid gimmicky monster, or any combination of those three things.

A notification from his phone drew his attention. He stopped in place in the middle of the street to check it - hey, someone had given his latest story a new review! He tapped over to read it.

Grant nearly pitched his phone at the pavement. He had spent two days on that first chapter, seven hours of which was just perfecting the first sentence! He had poured his heart and soul into those words!

Readers were idiots. Repulsive no-life dunces. Absolute braindead morons.

They didn't know what made a good story. They didn't want anything original. No, they wanted the same worthless pig slop regurgitated onto their screens, just with a new name and gimmick. Reincarnated as a Dungeon Core! Reincarnated as a Rabbit Girl! Reincarnated as a Blade of Fucking Grass! They'd read for five chapters, then drop it for the next piece of shit isekai with a flashy title.

Suddenly, a truck came barreling his way. Through some miracle, he managed to pull himself out of the way just in time, stumbling to the road and landing on his butt.

"Holy shit!" he patted himself down, happy to be in one piece.

In that moment, he truly valued his existence, like he never had before. Why apply self-worth to the reception of your little internet stories? And in any case, he had plenty of readers. One anonymous idiot's opinion was just that: nothing. Grinning, he closed his phone and forgot all about the review, prepared to walk back to his dorm with a new view on things.

Then, another much larger truck tore through, flattening him into a grisly pancake. The last thing Grant heard was his own head popping like a balloon under one of the sixteen wheeler's extra-strength grip tires.


When Grant woke up, he was floating in a black void.

"Oh, God." he looked down at himself. His body had been entirely repaired. "Am I dead?"

"It's Goddess, actually." a feminine voice rang out, reverberating nowhere and everywhere all at once. "Goddess Generia, but just Gigi for short. And yes, but we're about to fix that."

Grant's stomach dropped.

"Oh, no, no, no no no." He pushed through the void, trying to swim away - as if there was somewhere he could run. "No. No! No! Fuck no!"

"Prepare to be reborn, Grant." the goddess's cheery voice was unwavering. "The world of Generia needs a hero."

White light flooded his vision. He let out a final cry before dissipating.

"FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCKKKK!!!"

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