Heavenly Army, Doraon dorai_ By Ooahan JS
When I got home, I immediately started cooking rice in the electric rice cooker.
In my head, I pictured a grand feast—a table overflowing with delicacies, a royal spread where I’d eat like a taste tester for an empress, sampling each dish with meticulous care.
But reality? Just plain rice and some fermented seafood. Still, that was enough. A full belly was all I needed.
Even though I was starving, my stomach practically glued to my spine, I had to wait for the rice to cook.
With time to kill, I opened the Aizora website to check the views on the story I had uploaded.
“…Oh, come on. Still the same?”
No one had read it. Not a single soul.
As I’ve mentioned before, my story—a sci-fi, fantasy, blockbuster-style superhero tale—was far from popular. If only even one person would read it…
People go crazy for the Marvel Universe, so why doesn’t anyone care about my Batal Universe?
Is it bad luck? No, it’s a lack of talent.
Maybe I was an idiot for thinking I could turn my universe—crafted to rival Marvel—into a web novel. Or maybe it was just a reckless, childish dream I chased without thinking.
Should I give up? Or sell my soul?
To survive in this oversaturated market, you either have to be a genius, be wildly unique, or go so far over the top that people can’t help but notice.
But I’m no genius. I don’t have the guts to stand out, and I avoid writing anything too provocative.
Someone once said, “To change your destiny, you have to change your nature.”
One of the easiest ways, apparently, is to do the things you hate the most.
“Easiest,” my ass. No wonder so few people manage to change their destiny.
Right now, my mind was a battlefield of conflicting thoughts.
Should I live a quiet life, peeling potatoes and refining my craft?
Or should I dive headfirst into writing some scandalous, over-the-top trash?
Maybe even venture into the realm of 19+ or push it to 29+?
I didn’t know.
But I did know that I didn’t want to succeed that way.
What I really wanted wasn’t to succeed as a novelist.
I wanted my story to succeed.
“Forget it. Whatever! @#$!”
“Your delicious rice is ready, Master. Hehe.”
My curse was answered by the cheery voice of the rice cooker.
Without thinking, I dashed over to it like lightning. My empty stomach must’ve been enhancing my reflexes.
When I opened the lid, a cloud of fragrant steam rose, enveloping my face. The sweet, nutty smell of perfectly cooked rice hit me, and my stomach growled in response.
Sometimes, I don’t even understand my own body.
I opened the cabinet under the sink to grab a bowl for the rice but found myself pulling out a giant cold noodle bowl instead. I don’t know why—I just had a gut feeling it was the right choice.
I’m not a particularly rational person.
I’m easily swayed by emotions, the kind of person whose feelings tend to overpower logic.
As much as I wish I could be more reasonable, my noodle bowl choice reminded me that I wasn’t.
Still, I stood by my decision. The noodle bowl was the right choice.
“You’ll gain weight if you eat too much,” my rational side whispered. But my hands? They were busy piling a mountain of rice into the bowl.
My thoughts were utterly useless against the physical needs of my starving body. Hunger had completely overridden both reason and willpower.
To make the mountain of rice easier to eat, I poured cold water over it. It helped cool the rice faster and made it easier to swallow without chewing too much. Efficiency at its finest.
I scooped up a spoonful of rice, topped it with a small piece of fermented seafood I’d struggled to buy at the supermarket, and brought it to my mouth.
Heaven. Absolute heaven.
After that first bite, everything became a blur.
I couldn’t remember how I ate the rest of the rice—whether it was the sheer hunger or the sheer joy, I had no idea.
When I finally came to, my spoon was scraping the bottom of the noodle bowl, making a loud clinking sound.
An involuntary sigh of satisfaction escaped my lips.
“Wow. Truly one of life’s greatest joys: rice and fermented seafood!”
I glanced down at my now-bulging stomach, as round as a tadpole’s belly. The sudden expansion of my stomach left me aching, so I gently rubbed it as I flopped onto my bed.
Anyone with a full belly will know: sitting upright on the floor is pure torture. The only way to feel comfortable is to lie down or lean back against something.
Haaa~ So full. So happy.
Lying on the bed felt amazing, except for one thing: the bright light from the ceiling lamp was annoying.
I wished I could turn it off, but getting up felt like too much effort. Turning onto my side didn’t work either—my full stomach made it uncomfortable.
Screw it. If I couldn’t turn off the light, I’d just close my eyes and ignore it.
I drifted off, somewhere between meditation and sleep.
Suddenly—
FLASH!
The room was consumed by a blinding light. It was so intense, so pure, it felt almost sacred. Like something divine was about to emerge from it.
The light bathed the entire room, and then, just as quickly as it had appeared, it vanished.
In its place stood a figure, glaring at me with fiery eyes.
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