In the steaming heart of Andhra Pradesh, in a dusty government office so unremarkable it could be mistaken for a PowerPoint background, sat a man so painfully average that the universe wept in apathy.
Ravana Brahma.
Known as Ra-One to the precious few who cared enough to nickname him—mainly himself—he was the human equivalent of a 2-star Google review. Thirty years old. No abs, no hairline miracles, no girlfriend, no car, no dreams except those powered by instant rice and questionable fanfics.
He wasn't ugly, but if you Googled "generic NPC template," you'd find his Aadhaar photo. A living, breathing tutorial level.
From 9 to 6, Ra-One's life was a loop of stamping government documents and pretending the printer wasn't haunted. From 6:01 PM to 1:00 AM, he transformed… into a couch potato with the snack-fueled powers of binge-watching One Piece, Dragon Ball Super, and reading questionable isekai manga where accountants became harem kings overnight.
While others dreamed of promotions or partners, Ra-One had a simpler wish.
To be isekai'd.
But not just any isekai.
"I don't want the tractor-isekai or the vending machine one. I want the hot God/Goddess saying, 'Oh no, you died because of my incompetence, here's Saitama's power and a cheat system!'" he'd say nightly to his ceiling fan. His ceiling fan never responded.
He often cursed his fate, and more specifically, his name. Who names their child after the Ravana? The ten-headed, twenty-armed warlord of Lanka? The guy who kidnapped someone else's wife and then got epically smacked down by a blue prince with forest animals as sidekicks?
Clearly, his father did.
And clearly, his mother didn't stop him.
"Brahma probably saw another Ravan being born and said, 'Nope. Not again. Make this one average as dishwater,'" Ra-One muttered one night, chewing burnt rice and fantasizing about being the son of All Might and Merlin's cousin.
But that night was different.
That night… his light flickered.
Then everything went black.
Ra-One blinked.
"Current gone?" he mumbled, patting around for his phone.
Suddenly, BOOM. A thunderous voice echoed like a cosmic DJ drop.
And then he saw it.
A giant floating emoji.
A circular, jet-black ball with gleaming golden eyes and a mouth curved into an eternally smug grin.
It spoke.
"Yes, I succeeded! Now you pathetic average Indian souls named after villains, bow before me—the Great Chaos Ra-oops, the Chaos Emoji of the Omniverse!"
Ra-One gasped like a drama queen in a Telugu soap.
"Oh my god! It's happening! It's really happening to me! I, Ravana Brahma, a pathetic average soul of India, greet you, O Great God of Chaos!"
The Emoji blinked its smug golden eyes. "Wow. Indians really are undefeated in ass-kissing when higher powers show up."
"I live to serve, O divine emoticon! Assign me any mission, I'm ready!"
"Wait—no existential questions? Not even a 'Did I die?' or 'Why me?' Not even a 'Where the hell am I?' You're just… in?"
"You've seen my life, haven't you? I microwave curry and read Naruto x My Little Pony fanfics at 1AM. Being chosen by you is a Win. I accept everything. You want a jester? I'll wear bells. You want a pawn? Make me a black one—I want the edge."
The Emoji wiped a tear from its eye. "Finally, someone gets it. The truly pathetic ones are the most entertaining. Fine! I'll give you the sacred gacha of chaos. Press the button and you'll spin for five things: character template, race or bloodline, body talent, your system, and the universe you'll be yeeted into."
A giant red button appeared.
Ra-One didn't press it.
He head-butted it.
The first spinner whirred to life—templates from all across fiction blitzed past: Doomsday! Thrag! Dr. Doom! Evil Reed Richards! Joker!
Ra-One whispered fervently, "Not Joker. Please, anything but Joker. Give me Thrag abs or Doom intellect…"
It clicked.
Red Hood. Jason Todd.
Ra-One blinked. "Oh come on. I'm edgy Batman Junior with daddy issues and no Bat Insurance?"
Emoji chuckled. "Could've been worse. Could've been Kite Man."
Next up: Bloodline.
It spun through glorious names: Kryptonian, Saiyan, Dragon, Vasto Lorde...
Click.
Hanma.
From Baki the Grappler.
"YOU MEAN I HAVE TO TRAIN 50 YEARS TO PUNCH A DINOSAUR!?" Ra-One screamed.
"On the bright side," Emoji said, "you now legally have the right to call everyone 'weakling' and flex shirtless at funerals."
Third: Talent.
Options like Supreme Magic Talent, Limitless Potential, and Battle God Physique swirled.
Click.
Human Adaptability.
Even the Emoji facepalmed. "Bro… you can now… adapt to spicy food and do squats efficiently. Congratulations."
"I'm going to cry," Ra-One muttered.
"Don't worry, the System might redeem it."
The fourth spinner started. Gamer System, Ultimate Upgrade, Cut and Paste, Reality Rewrite…
Click.
Garbage System.
"WHAT THE F—" both Ra-One and Emoji screamed simultaneously.
"WHAT DOES IT EVEN DO!?" Ra-One shrieked.
A pop-up appeared:
[Congratulations! You have received the Garbage Collection System™. Now you can draw literal omniverse trash, collect, and store it in Inventory.]
"I… I want to return to India," Ra-One whispered.
"No refunds," Emoji muttered. "Just one last spin—universe."
The wheel spun. DC. Marvel. One Piece. Demon Slayer. Rick and Morty (Zombie Edition).
Click.
Destination: Comicized MCU Universe (Where everyone looks hot and over-the-top)
"Okay. Okay," Ra-One said, rubbing his temples. "At least I know the plot. Don't die in New York. Avoid aliens. Stay away from Wanda and Loki's variant therapy group."
The Emoji rubbed his giant black forehead. "I swear I wanted chaos, not mediocrity. You know what? I'll give you two freebies: Idol-level Charm and a wealthy family so you don't instantly die."
Ra-One sparkled. "Do I get a rich girlfriend too?"
"Don't push it."
And just like that, Ra-One was yeeted into the comicized MCU with all the grace of a bargain bin protagonist.
Back in the void, Chaos Emoji slumped in his cosmic beanbag, exasperated.
"Well… that was a disaster. First chaos-entertainment candidate and he got trash system? He's either going to become a meme or a janitor with abs."
A feminine voice echoed: "Master, you really thought it'd go like your own story?"
The Chaos Emoji turned to see Maya, his assistant system deity. "When I was like him, BOB gave me a proper loadout. This guy got Jason Todd, Hanma genes, and a system that collects cosmic garbage."
"And yet…" Maya smirked. "You secretly blessed him, didn't you? Hid him from divine detection?"
"Hey! You gave his system a voice!"
"It was just a voice! Not like I gave it memory, sass, or omniversal dumpster-diving hacks…"
"Oh? So those bonus abilities I hallucinated were… nothing?"
They both laughed.
And far away in the comic-book reality of Earth-1999.98b (aka MCU but with way hotter eyebrows), a confused, hot, fabulously wealthy Ra-One woke up as 11 months baby in a silk bed the size of his old house.
TO BE CONTINUED…
(Next Episode: "Ra-One vs the Avengers: Battle of the Biryani and Broken Dreams!") Just kidding.