"Another fanfic?! Where is your creativity?"

"In the gutter."

"Fix your attitude!"

"It can't be fixed. It's intangible."

"You know what?! Fuck you!"

"Fuck your dad sideways."

"I am an orphan, fucking pleb."

"Oh, congratulations."

Alfir can feel the seething hatred beyond his screen. It is not every day he meets trolls like this, but Alfir is doing very well to cope with this certain reader. And honestly, Alfir's way is inadvisable given that 1)it is unhealthy and 2)it is bad for business.

This is just how much he loves the numerous fictions he consumed for the past decade of his youth. As a self-proclaimed professional writer, he should have some pride in his works.

It is not Alfir is a bad writer. He is just born mean.

"What matters is that I enjoyed the process..." Alfir whispered to himself as he type his words of gratitude to the readers who gave constructive comments and time to read his works. It immensely improved his writing skills. With Alfir's last chapter and post-author notes, he drank a can of beer.

"Ah~ That hits the spot."

[Email Received: Unknown]

Now, that is foreboding. But Alfir is not afraid of whatever death threat is this. Click.

Oh, it was a cute puppy with adorable eyes---

Fuck!

Alfir's monitor screen glowed blue, white, and green. The puppy with a guttural howl lunged piercing beyond the glassy screen that separated Alfir from the zeros and ones. The puppy was no more. In its place is a ferocious wolf the size of a fucking truck. Alfir was in an internet cafe at that time, and oh lord...it was quite the sight!

"Monster! RUn FoR YoUR lives!"

"Call DA SECurity!"

"HEEEEeeeelp!"

Black fur and white teeth. Its eyes gleamed with savage glee.

"I am dead."

Not just dead, but dead-eaten.

...

Alfir woke up in an unfamiliar place. It is dark, cramped, and gloomy. He received memories foreign to what he knows. He is a commoner working for the evil organization, Zentury.

'I just knew it...'

Alfir felt his weak limbs. It is painful, torn, and bloody. Because of the flailing, the cleaner noticed his struggle.

"Oh boy, there is still someone alive."

The slaughterhouse, as Zentury calls it, is the resting place of the countless mobs that sacrificed themselves for the organization. It is a meat blender used to extract various important ingredients in alchemy, artifice, and experimentation. Alfir is intimately familiar with this world given that he created it. His sole unpublished work, an original, which Alfir dedicated his whole youth~ Mutagenic Medieval.

...

"I am so lucky Zentury has very good insurance policies."

"Yes, they sure do. This is why even with the high death rates, we never lacked minions. It took me a decade of minion service before I am able to have this relatively safe job. You are very fortunate that I saw you. Anyway, what happened to you?"

"Hehehe, Flamecore got my team. I guess I am the only survivor."

"Now that is nasty. He is a top hero sought by multiple nations for his abilities... Sheesh, that's bad luck. It is a good talk, but I still have a job to do, so I gotta go. See you."

"Thanks for the visit."

Alfir waved his hand to bid his farewell to the cleaner that saved his life. It has been a month since Alfir came to this world, and he's recovering perfectly fine thanks to the insanely advanced technology of this world. Even his handsome outside is returning to its formal glory.

"The heavens must hate me. Even in this life, my looks remained un-striking. It screams mob..." Un-striking is not even a word, but Alfir is having the time of his life. This is too perfect! In a world where he knows the future, is like the best playground, to Alfir's slumbering desire to make a mess of EVERYTHING!

The world of Mutagenic Medieval is an alternate reality where the mutant-kind thrived during the medieval age as they become the messiahs that shaped the world according to their will. This gave birth to the Hero System that desires to regulate such unprecedented messiahs... Alfir is no messiah, he is an apocalypse waiting to be triggered.

***

I know this crazy guy. More than a screw loose, he is unhinged...dangerously unhinged...He told me that he's discovered the secret to transmigration. The next day, he was gone.

Not dead-gone, but just gone.

Guess what? At some point in time and space, fiction and facts somehow miraculously intersected. Now I, am also whisked away to a different universe, one that I wrote. I couldn't wait to experience it firsthand.

"A new world awaits me! Kekekeke... After writing this masterpiece, it is only right I experience it, right?"

This will be a blast!

RANT: Masterpiece!? SINCE WHEN!?

"Meanest Mob my ass, Manic Mister is more fitting, don't you think so? No? Why Meanest Mob? What!? Go and read it yourself!? That's rude!!"

What I didn't know was that between my ambition to take over the world I had created and the transmigration process, my mind somehow became corrupted with lunacy.