John sat down hard in the massive throne-like chair behind the desk, and started thinking. The wood creaked under his new six-foot-three frame like it was protesting the sheer weight of an Overlord finally planting his ass in it. His yellow eyes narrowed at the floating tablet still hovering in front of him, the cursor blinking patiently in that empty description field like it was mocking him. He could literally do anything right now. Anything.
The power Zero had handed over was still buzzing under his skin, that second skeleton of potential energy humming like a live wire. He could snap his fingers and turn the entire planet into one giant harem if he wanted. Redo of Healer style. Flip every single asshole he had ever met into a busty, brain-broken female, pump them full of whatever twisted fantasy his gooner brain could cook up, and call it justice. Hell, he could make the whole world female if he felt like it. One big, endless revenge fuck-fest where nobody ever said no again.
But what type of overlord did that? That shit was so 2016. So basic. So… predictable. He was the guy who had survived Truck-kun, kennels, goblin caves, a god literally murdering an entire family in front of him, and still came out the other side with drip guaranteed forever. He had standards now. Petty, sadistic, dripping-with-style standards. He needed a list. A proper revenge list. Something organized. Something that screamed "I thought about this for five whole minutes and decided you all deserve to suffer in the most creative ways possible."
He leaned back, the designer suit jacket pulling tight across his chest as he started counting on his fingers. First up, Elrin and his friends. Most likely his harem too, those giggling noble bitches who had watched him get pissed on and laughed about it. They all went on the board. Zedrik next, that red-haired tax collector who had ordered an entire village slaughtered because the women weren't hot enough to rape. Alrick, the scarred psycho who had calmly suggested the "encouragement" and watched it all happen like it was a science experiment. Loki, the Wolf God who had turned Marcus's family into corpses for the crime of existing. Gregor, the big burly bastard who had speared Lui right in front of him and grabbed Selio at the cliff edge like the hybrid was just another toy. And the chief, that smug gray-furred asshole who had sentenced them all to death by dishonorable combat and changed the rules the second John flipped him off.
If he was feeling extra petty he might even go for the kingdom or the family that the adventurers who had raped Selio's corpse were from. Yeah. Fuck all of them. Every single name burned into his brain like a brand. He was going to make them regret the day they ever crossed paths with John Haisha.
But first he needed to figure out exactly where the hell he even was on this planet. He stood up, the chair rolling back smoothly, and waved his hand through the air like he was conducting an orchestra. "Okay, system, let's do this. Make me a 3D globe of the planet. Around three feet in diameter. Nothing crazy, just enough to see the continents and where I died."
Nothing happened.
He tried again, louder this time. "Pan to… uhh… where I died? Jarvis-style system screen thing? Globe mode? Activate?"
Still nothing. The air stayed stubbornly empty.
"Man, fuck this," John muttered, running a hand through his black hair. "I'm not Iron Man. I can't just say random tech words and expect the universe to listen." He swiped the tablet out of the air, dismissed the half-formed globe attempt with a frustrated flick, and stared at the blank rendering window like it had personally offended him. He needed something that was perfectly fitted to what he knew. Something comfortable. Something that screamed "this is mine" instead of "I'm pretending to be a billionaire superhero."
A PC setup. But only the best. His old eight-hundred-dollar rig from his life in Japan was not gonna cut it. Not even close. He started typing, fingers flying across the holographic keyboard that popped up at his thought.
CPU: Intel I1Million Extreme Edition, 512 cores, 10 THz base clock, liquid helium cooled straight from the void itself.
RAM: 1 petabyte of quantum DDR10,000,000,000,000,000 speed, zero latency, infinite bandwidth.
Storage: 100 petabytes of NVMe SSD that literally rewrites physics so it can hold more than physics should allow.
GPU: Nvidia 1 Trillion series, 500,000 CUDA cores, ray tracing that renders entire galaxies in real time, DLSS that predicts the future.
Motherboard: custom Overlord edition with gold-plated runes that actually work.
Cooling: liquid nitrogen bath mixed with liquid starfire because why the fuck not.
Peripherals: triple 8K curved monitors the size of billboards, mechanical keyboard with keys that click like thunder, mouse that weighs five pounds of pure tungsten.
He hit generate before he could second-guess himself.
A wall appeared.
Weird.
The wall cut straight across the office, slicing off about thirty percent of the space like someone had taken a cosmic knife and just decided that part of the room now belonged to something else. A door materialized in the middle of the new wall, heavy black metal with glowing gold runes that pulsed like they were breathing. John stared at it for a second, then walked forward and pushed it open.
The thirty percent of the office that had been taken was now a completely different room. Dark. Lit only by aggressive LED strips that ran along every edge in deep crimson and electric blue. Massive cooling pipes snaked across the ceiling, humming with power that made the air feel charged. In the center sat the PC itself, a monolithic black tower the size of a refrigerator, glowing from within like it contained an actual star. The monitors were already on, triple curved 8K beasts that wrapped around a desk bigger than most cars. The keyboard looked like it belonged on a spaceship. And the chair… holy shit, the chair. One of those ten-thousand-dollar gaming thrones that larpers with no money drool over in forums, except this one was real. Black leather, red stitching, built-in massage motors, lumbar support that probably cost more than his old life, and it reclined so far back it might as well be a bed.
John stepped inside and the door sealed behind him with a soft hydraulic hiss. The wall was gone from the main office side. It was just… his now. Private. Perfect.
Holy overkill.