I Am A Prodigy - Chapter 3: World’s Biggest Noob

[Linguistics Skill: Lv0 (7/10)] [Apothecary Skill: Lv1 (15/100)] [Knight Breathing Skill: Lv2 (36/200)] [Knight Breathing Skill Experience Point +1] ------ In the year 3077 of the Berta calendar, during the era of confusion before wizards had reached the throne, he brought them ’Straight A Student Panel.’ He stepped into the sorcerer world, perfected sorcerer knowledge, like a bright moon dispelling the mists of the era. He was Ivan Marichardon, a pioneer of knowledge, he blazed trails for the way of the sorcerer.

A long time ago, the decayed main god space collapsed and disintegrated, and the wreckage was scattered in parallel universes, giving birth to a new space…

Countless ‘story worlds’ under control have also fallen into the void, regained freedom, runaway out of control, elevated to reality, and turned into reality.

At the same time, these “worlds” are polluted and corroded by the void, giving birth to greater fear and filth…

…

The space of birth feeds on the world.

They compete with each other, their tentacles penetrate through dimensions, invade different time and space, search for the legacy of the main god, drive the apostles to be minions, greedily tearing, seizing, devouring, and reclaiming one world after another, so that they can return to greatness.

…

The innocent eating melon and white waves with the legacy of the Lord God accidentally got involved in the parallel universe “Paradise of Fire” during a cross-border call.

After forcibly binding the demi-human blood, he became an excellent tool man who can repeatedly die, starting the legendary ‘dimension invasion career’.

- Description from novelbuddy

One day, in front of my eyes appeared a silver-haired Goddess.

What kind of bullsh*t is this woman spouting?

“…What?”

No, I’m not.

I am Racist.…I mean, my name is Racis T.I was a stand-up comedian. The flop kind. The type who only got laughs when someone else was roasting him.One night, I was doing a gig at a shady, run-down bar—the kind where tattooed bikers drink motor oil for breakfast. I went in with my usual dark humor, but my jokes were getting the same reaction as my dating profile: complete silence.That didn’t sit right with my inner artist, who was already starving to death. So I did what any committed comedian would—I went darker.Turns out, one of my jokes (or all of them?) triggered a guy so hard that he pulled a trigger. Headshot. Instant death.But hey, look at this: A guy got triggered, so he pulled the trigger. That’s wordplay. But who cares? I’m dead anyway.All I wanted was a successful show, people laughing, and maybe a few girls swooning over my wit. I never cared about money. The millions I’d have made would have gone to charity—specifically, 0.001% of it. See? I’m generous like that.Anyway, death is death. My story should’ve ended there.But… if there is an afterlife, I had a simple wish: become a successful comedian, find a loving wife, and have just enough money to afford three meals a day… and maybe a humble little private yacht. Or a jet. But that’s it. Because, like I said, I don’t care about money.Unfortunately, wishes don’t work that way.Because, well—there was an afterlife.And it was absolutely not what I wished for.