Chapter 1: Moderate Obsession


    Nobunaga Oda was just your average, everyday, ordinary neen-year-old. Sure, his parents were both irredeemable Otaku who decided to ruin his life by naming him, a white guy, after a famous figure from Japan, but he wasn''t going to let that dictate how he lived his life.


    Though it had earned him a fair amount of teasing in his youth, Nobunaga, Nobu to his friends and Nob to his tmates, had eventually grown rather fond of his name. All he needed to do was set aside his shame and spend a few years in the gym. After that, the only people brave enough to make fun of him were a handful of jocks, and, perhaps as a result of theirck of sense, a few of his parents'' Otaku buddies.


    Fortunately, now that he had left home, Nobu no longer had to put up with such things. He was a free man, and, though his mother forced him to call at least twice a week, she had doted on him quite a bit due to the bullying his name had caused.


    Though he would only admit it while drunk, Nobu loved his mother quite a bit, and, were it not for the fact she was married to that ''thing'' he called a father, he might have be an Otaku himself. Unfortunately, that route had been closed to him from the start, as, despite being a man, his father had made a name for himself by dressing up as a cute girl and promoting ''trap'' merchandise at various anime conventions.


    Nobu could still remember the first he invited a friend over in his youth. At the time, he hadn''t even considered that there might be something wrong with what his father was doing. It was only after his best friend, the brat that would eventually be his first bully, told the rest of the ss that Nabu finally realized just how strange his family dynamic was.


    Recalling the shame he experienced when the Principle of his elementary school called child services to question him, a pained grimace appeared across Nobu''s face as he silently muttered, "The fuck is wrong with me? I''ve never been this sentimental before..."


    Shaking his head, Nobu looked up to see that his Professor was more focused on a blonde with big tits than actually starting the ss. Thus, without a moment''s hesitation, he whipped out his phone and opened up a rtively popr Clicker App.


    Clicker Apps were a type of game where the main focus was clicking, or in his case, tapping various icons to increase your point total torge, often ludicrous, numbers.


    Though it wasn''t something he discussed openly, Nobu had developed a strange sense of pride after his original Cookie Clicker ytime exceeded 2000 hours. He had also set a world record with the most clicks recorded in a single session, so while others busied themselves with MOBAs, FPSs, RPGs, MMOs, and even Pokemon, Nobu had always enjoyed Idle Games, specifically Clicker Apps.


    Since Cookie Clicker had eventually stopped releasing any substantial content updates, at least during the time he was active, Nobu ultimately had little choice but to get his fix elsewhere. The first was a game known as Klicker Heroes. Unfortunately, the publisher became greedy soon after the game gained traction, and, as a result, even someone as diehard as Nobu abandoned it after only six-hundred-hours of ying.


    After this little incident, Nobu tended to avoid games that were only about taking advantage of the genre''s niche poprity. As a result, he ultimately settled on a game called Eastern Fantasy.


    Eastern Fantasy was a rtively unique Clicker App as it took advantage of the growing poprity of Wuxia and Cultivation Novels to allow yers to cultivate their avatar to the status of an Immortal. It stood out among the rest due to the implementation of PvE, PvP, cksmithing, Alchemy, Dual Cultivation, and pretty much everything else that allowed the Wuxia genre to thrive both in and outside of China.


    While these were the elements that kept most people ying, Nobu had a much simpler reason. The developers had gone out of their way to include all the popr tropes, so, while it took thousands of hours, a determined yer could reach the pinnacle of cultivation without contributing a single penny to the game.


    Though the method had now be widely known, Nobu was one of the first yers to discover the hidden bonus awaiting yers who had spent a cumtive one-hundred-hours of active clicking. This had yielded him a mere 10% increase to cultivation efficacy, but, after an additional thirteen-hundred-hours, he had be the only free-to-y cultivator earning a bonus 140% increase to all cultivation experience he received.


    Thanks to his efforts, Nobu had eventually wed his way to the coveted rank of Immortal Sage King. His persistence had earned him something of a cult following on his server, so immediately after logging on, most of the active yers in the chat proceeded to greet him.


    Even if they were ultimately roleying, Nobu enjoyed being treated with respect and admiration by other yers on the server. His only regret was that he had set his original name to Lord Cookie. Because of this, people in the chat had taken to referring to him as Venerable Cookie, and, every time he conversed with the NPCs in his Sect, they unironically addressed him as Senior Lord Cookie.


    Were it not for the fact name changes cost money, Nobu would have done so long ago. He had even petitioned the publishingpany to afford him a free name change. Unfortunately, their only response was an automated message that made little sense even after running it through a trantor.


    After that little incident, Nobu had given up on trying to use his implicitly non-existent influence to get free stuff from a Chinesepany. Instead, he took sce in the fact that he was well on his way to being the first to reach the 150% experience modifier.


    Noticing his click count was less than ten-thousand away from the one-billion milestone, Nobu''s rxed expression promptly morphed into azy yet noticeably excited smile. This earned him the attention of a rtively cute girl seated two seats away, but, once she saw him furiously tapping the screen of his phone, she quickly lost interest in making conversation.


    Unaware of the opportunity he had just missed, Nobu continued clicking with the intent of reaching one-billion before the day''s end. Fortunately, he would have ample time to achieve this, as, shortly after his click fiesta had begun, the Professor eyed him like a venomous snake, saying, "Mister Oda...I believe I informed everyone that phones would not be tolerated in my ss. Since you clearly have better things to do, please leave. Others have-"


    Without waiting for the middle-aged predator to finish, Nobu rose from his seat and promptly departed the lecture hall. This earned him a withering re from his Professor, but, despite knowing the old man for less than a month, Nobu was rtively certain he only recalled the names and faces of his female students...


    ---


    With his schedule clear for the afternoon, Nobu allowed his body to enter auto-pilot as he made his way back to the freshmen dorms. This required him to cross numerous roads along the way, but, like most of the students cursed to spend the next decade paying off student loans, he often joked that he wanted to be hit.


    Amused by his own thoughts, a smile spread across Nobu''s face as he, very briefly, raised his head to look for oing traffic. What he didn''t expect to see was a young girl, perhaps four or five years old, in a white dress chasing after one of thoserge balls used in yoga. There were also a group of fairly attractive women nearby, but that was thest thing on Nobu''s mind as he shouted, "Hey! Look both ways before you cross the street...!"


    Though the girl was startled by the sudden shout, her shock was second to Nobu''s as a sudden and intense honking resonated in his ears. Then, as every nerve in his body tensed up, a loud crashing sound, followed by the screaming of the little girl, pierced the air.


    Ignoring the brat''s bellowing, Nobu shifted his attention to the moving van that had veered into a parked car after swerving away from him. He could have sworn there weren''t any vehicles approaching when he first stepped out onto the road, but, ignoring this incongruency, he quickly ran over to the truck to see if the driver was okay.


    As if today was the day fate had decreed he would die, Nobu only made it a few steps before the driver of the truck stepped out, face beet-crimson and shotgun in hand.


    Though some would assume the man was simply furious, his unnaturally mmy skin, dted eyes, and the foam around his mouth demonstrated that he was under the influence of something illegal. He was being fueled by a lot more than simple road rage, so, before things could escte any further, Nobu immediately raised his arms, shouting, "Whoa, whoa, whoa, man! Let''s not do-"


    *Krapow...!*


    Unable to finish his words, Nobu''splexion paled as a sudden, intense, and fiery pain radiated from his left hand. It hurt so much that, for a brief moment, he turned statuesque as the man shouted, "You fucking kids and your god-damned phones! I''m sick and tired of seeing you dumb shits-"


    As if the theme of the day was interrupting people before they had the chance to finish speaking, a rather burly individual wearing the workout attire of the college''s ROTC program mmed into the drugged man with the force of a human-sized freight train. Then, as if he was on something even stronger than the trucker, he began wailing on the man in a manner reminiscent of Thor striking frost giants with Mjolnir.


    While most people would feel relieved by such a turn of events, Nobu''s expression paled even further as he turned his head to inspect his hand, and, more importantly, his phone. The tips of his index and middle finger had been obliterated, but, seeing the upper half of his phone missing, the first thought that crossed Nobu''s mind was whether or not his insurance covered bullet damage. Then, before the reality of his situation could set in, the little girl from before screamed bloody murder as a group of men wearing ski masks emerged from the moving truck''spartment with guns in hand...


    ---


    With pain emanating from virtually every part of his body, particrly his face, Nobu awoke to find himself in a strange white space. Even stranger than this, however, was the fact that a wooden desk sat just a few meters away from him, and, across from it, an inordinately beautiful woman with golden hair.


    Though his physique had earned himself a bit of fanfare in High School, Nobu found himself unable to fully process just how beautiful the woman seated across the desk was. Her hair glittered with golden light, and, the moment he managed to take his eyes off her iprehensiblyrge and perfectly sculpted breasts, Nobu noticed her ears were long and pointed.


    Considering what he had just experienced, a peculiar giddiness began to swell within Nobu''s chest as he restlessly stated, "Please tell me you''re the Goddess of Reincarnation..."


    Against every expectation Nobu had formed, a sigh immediately escaped the god-like woman''s throat as she rolled her eyes andzily droned, "I''m sick and tired of these perverted and power-hungry monkeys...". Then, as if she hadn''t insulted his entire ancestry, the woman immediately adopted a radiant smile as she answered, "While that isn''t entirely on the mark, the fact you sincerely believed in reincarnation your entire life allows me to fill that purpose. Now, choose your words carefully, mortal. There is a limit to the number of questions and requests you can ask of me..."


    Feeling his excitement boiling over, Nobu needed to muster willpower he didn''t even know he possessed to stop himself from jumping into the air and dancing like a fool. His unique heritage had afforded him quite a bit of knowledge regarding tropes such as this, and, though he had given up on watching anime when he was still a kid, his love for web and light novels was second only to his obsession with Clicker Apps.


    Seeing the human across from her fidgeting like a toddler trying to hold in their pee, the Goddess, Imina, felt a sudden and intense urge to send him flying into the void. People like this had been showing up with increasing frequency as ofte, and, more often than not, they badgered her with all kinds of irrational, selfish, and sometimes perverse demands. The few she had humored went on tomit all manner of crimes, and, in a select few cases, there were even asshats who thought they could stand against her using the very same power she had granted them.


    Unfortunately, as loathed as she was to admit it, Imina had been the one to propose the idea of allowing humans the freedom to believe whatever they wanted. It wasn''t her ce to pass judgment, only to send them on their way to whatever afterlife they deemed themselves qualified for. This included allowing self-centered brats like the man fidgeting before her to transfer to different worlds, so, after forcibly calming herself, she ''politely'' inquired, "How much longer do you intend to waste my time...?"