"When you hit rock bottom, remember: rock bottom has a trapdoor. And on the other side? A new episode."

And every night, looking out at the twin moons of his second world, Lugh smiled.

A rift opened north of the university—a tear in reality leaking despair-possessed shades. Not the monsters of the Mushoku Tensei lore books. These were anime fans turned into vengeful wraiths: salarymen who died staring at screens, students who never logged off. They whispered Kenji's old thoughts: "Useless. Waste. Never good enough."

He had finally stopped watching.

A ceiling of rough-hewn beams. A soft hand on his forehead. "He's alive! The fever broke!"

"If only I could start over," Kenji whispered, slurping cold noodle broth. "I wouldn't waste it."

They failed. Spectacularly. Lugh's "Kamehameha" blew up a greenhouse. Hiro's "Bankai" drained him unconscious for three days. The faculty called them fools.

Every night, he scrolled. Naruto, One Piece, Attack on Titan —but his true religion was Mushoku Tensei: Jobless Reincarnation . He knew every frame. Rudeus Greyrat, the shut-in who got a second chance. A world of magic, swords, and—most importantly— purpose .