Anwar sat in front of his laptop, spine stiff, palms sweaty, pretending he wasn't seconds away from a full mental breakdown. This was it — the final question of the interview. He had nailed everything so far, or at least he convinced himself he did. After two miserable jobless years post-graduation, this had to be his moment.
"Why should we hire you?"
He didn't answer immediately. Oh no, he had rehearsed this speech for a week, repeating it in front of mirrors, walls, and even the bathroom bucket. But he pretended to think anyway, to look smart, professional, mysterious — presidential even.
He parted his lips to speak—
"Never mind," the interviewer cut him off, voice sharp enough to give a paper cut. "I can clearly see you don't have much experience. We need someone with at least five years."
He blinked. Hard.
This piece of information had not been mentioned anywhere — not in the job description, not on their website, not even in the microscopic fine print no one reads.
"I applied for the fresher role," he tried to argue. "Not a managerial—"
"Thank you for participating in today's interview," she said, channeling her inner stubborn mountain range. Then she hung up, probably proud of herself for "working."
Anwar stared at the black Zoom screen for a moment, then slowly, very slowly, crushed his pillow like it owed him money.
"Of course," he muttered. "Of course she wasn't interviewing me. She was just pretending to be productive to keep her salary. Fantastic. Amazing. Peak professionalism."
He dropped onto his bed like a corpse who gave up halfway through dying.
After a full minute of blinking at the ceiling in defeat, he grabbed his phone. If life wouldn't give him a job, then he would at least give himself some escapism.
He opened a webnovel app.
Choosing a cultivation novel, he sighed. Two hundred chapters published, trending for weeks, blah blah blah. He had read it halfway before dropping it because the main character won at everything with the power of plot armor and conveniently timed heavenly treasures.
He didn't understand why people loved such garbage. Authors acted like the MC was hardworking and talented, but in reality, he was a walking vending machine of divine luck with a harem of jade beauties circling him like flies.
And still somehow virgin.
"Peak pathetic," Anwar whispered, scrolling.
But today he was in the mood to bully someone, so he read ten chapters and began cursing the author in the comments like a seasoned warrior. He didn't usually do this, but the frustration of life demanded a sacrifice, and this author was offering himself beautifully.
Once satisfied with the spiritual cleansing, he tossed his phone aside and stood up to make dinner.
Then a notification popped up.
Are you saying you're better than him? Can you do better, you fucking virgin? bla bla bla…
He didn't read the full message. He didn't need to. He was indeed a virgin — but dating without a job was harder than ascension to immortality.
He exhaled and moved toward the kitchen.
Then he slipped.
His foot twisted, gravity betrayed him, and his head smashed into something cold. Pain exploded, the world blurred, and before he could process what the hell hit him…
…everything went dark.
Anwar's eyes creaked open.
His skull throbbed as though someone had played drums on it. He forced himself to sit up, blinking at the dim room lit only by a small lantern hanging crookedly. The light flickered weakly, but it was enough to tell him one thing:
This wasn't his kitchen.
Or his apartment.
Or even his world.
His first thought was: Am I kidnapped?
His second thought came immediately after when strange, foreign memories rushed into his mind like floodwater.
Did I get… transmigrated?
He pushed himself off the bed and staggered to the window. Outside, the night was unnaturally clear. Moonlight washed over a vast, untouched landscape. The sky was littered with stars — too many, too bright, too beautiful to be Earth.
A slow, mad laugh bubbled up from his chest.
"Hah… ha… HAHAHA!"
He threw his head back.
"I'm finally free from that boring life!"
No interviews.
No rejection emails.
No debt.
No disappointment.
Just a brand-new world.
And with his luck?
Probably a brand-new set of problems too.
But for now, he laughed like a man who had nothing left to lose — and everything to gain.
A sharp chime echoed inside his skull.
"Ding."
He froze.
His mouth hung open.
A shiver crawled all the way down his spine.
A… system?
A freaking system?
This was illegal levels of irony.
He had spent years complaining about systems, plot armor, cheat abilities, and brain-dead protagonists while reading webnovels. He roasted authors for giving their MCs too much convenience. He mocked every transmigrator who got a golden-finger system stronger than the actual plot.
And now?
He wanted to kneel and kiss the floor.
Because let's be brutally honest — in a cultivation world filled with beast tides, arrogant young masters, and villains who monologue more than they breathe…
Who the hell wouldn't want a system?
It was basically a heaven-defying treasure bundled neatly inside your soul.
A lifelong insurance policy.
A cheat-code,
A golden finger,
A life insurance plan,
And a divine sugar daddy—all combined.
"Okay… okay… keep calm… don't scream… be mature… be dignified."
He inhaled deeply.
"HAHAHAHAHA! I GOT A SYSTEM!"
So much for dignity.
[System Online]
[Initializing…]
[Binding Complete]
Then it spoke in that soulless, monotone voice that made him feel like a customer receiving terms and conditions he wouldn't read.
[Protagonist Slayer System Activated.]
His eyebrows shot up.
Protagonist. Slayer.
Not helper.
Not supporter.
Not 'rise to the peak' something-something.
Slayer.
Wow," he muttered. "Subtle. Very subtle
The next panel unfolded slowly, like it wanted him to emotionally prepare.
**[Host can earn System Points by:
Stealing opportunities meant for Protagonists.
Disrupting their fate, luck, romance, breakthroughs, and plot armor.
Engaging in explicit activities with female leads, saintesses, sect beauties, or any woman favored by destiny.
He blinked.
Twice.
Then stared harder.
"Explicit? As in—explicit? Like—really explicit?"
[Affirmative.]
He slapped his own face just to check.
It hurt.
Good.
He rubbed his temples slowly.
So let him get this straight:
He had died because he slipped like a discount slapstick comedian…
He woke up in a cultivation world…
And his golden cheat was telling him to steal the protagonist's girls and life opportunities.
This was either a blessing
Or the universe's most elaborate revenge prank.
Then it hit him.
A memory.
A familiar plotline.
A disastrously low-effort cultivation novel.
"Oh no," he murmured. "No wa
y. No way in hell."
Wait.
No way.
Am I… in that novel?
The same trash story he had been hate-reading?
The same world where the protagonist was a talentless loser who miraculously kept winning because luck loved him more than his own mother?
His face twisted.
"So I got transmigrated because I offended the author? Seriously? What kind of petty god-level writer does that?"
The system did not answer. Of course it didn't.
But he remembered the plot.
He remembered the MC.
He remembered the female characters.
He remembered EXACTLY how much potential there was to mess everything up brilliantly.
A slow, devious smile carved its way across his face.
"So you want me," he whispered, staring at the panel, "to cockblock the MC?"
[Correction: To dominate, outshine, undermine, sabotage, humiliate, seduce, and systematically dismantle every opportunity destined for the Protagonist.]
His smile grew wider.
More sinister.
More unhinged.
He felt something dark bloom in his chest — not evil, exactly, but something close.
Something sharp.
Something hungry.
"I'm all in."
He spread his arms dramatically.
"I get to bully a protagonist? In his own story? LEGALLY?"
His grin widened.
"This is personal now
"
No shame. No hesitation. No guilt. No brotherhood. If the protagonist thinks this world revolves around him, I'll personally rotate it the other way."
The system chimed in approval.
[First Mission Unlocked.]
A new window popped up.
[Mission 1: Steal the One opportunity of Protagonist in 24 hrs .]
[Reward: 500 System Points + Trait: Natural Charm]
[Penalty: [ severe loss of Luck]
He raised an eyebrow.
"Naturally charming, huh…? That'll help with the, uh… explicit missions."
[Affirmative.]
He took a deep breath.
Alright.
Here it was.
The moment.
The start of his new life — not as some righteous hero or decent human being, but as the chaotic, shameless, opportunistic, fate-wrecking bastard.
He cracked his neck.
"Alright, protagonist… wherever you are…"
He grinned.
"…your suffering starts today."