The five of them pushed open the heavy double doors of the Adventurer’s Guild?, stepping into what could only be described as a mandatory plot checkpoint.

  Inside, it was everything their instincts warned them about:

  Round tables filled with rowdy patrons.

  Quest boards plastered with poorly edited posters.

  A bar manned by a tired NPC who had definitely seen too much.

  Above the entrance hung a dusty banner that read, in crooked letters:

  “WHERE PLOTS HAPPEN.”

  WaifuWarlock whistled low.

  "Man… it’s like every fantasy loading screen threw up in here."

  RedFlag elbowed him, pointing toward the bartender.

  "I bet ten gold the first thing he says is, 'What'll it be?'"

  The bartender, without looking up, muttered:

  "What'll it be?"

  Spreadsheet sighed.

  "Statistically inevitable."

  They made their way through the hall, passing clusters of other adventurers — or at least, whatever passed for adventurers these days.

  In one corner, a man in an elaborate white robe was whispering sweet nothings to an entire wheel of cheese. Above his head floated a glowing title:

  [Reincarnated as a God-Tier Cheesemaker]

  A few tables over, a brooding teenager sharpened a butter knife with the intensity of someone who had definitely posted “I’m not like other guys” on social media at least twice.

  [Dark and Edgy Protagonist Destined for War Crimes]

  Finally, near the fireplace, a painfully average guy sat surrounded by suspiciously identical women, each of whom wore the vacant expression of a gacha pull with a 0.5% success rate.

  [Standard Isekai Guy #69420]

  Kazap scoffed.

  "Look at these NPC DLC packs."

  Wiki adjusted his glasses.

  "That edgelord’s tragic backstory probably involves a broken McDonald's ice cream machine."

  RedFlag cracked his knuckles.

  "I’d throw hands with the cheesemaker, but I am lactose intolerant."

  The cheesemaker’s wheel of gouda shuddered in response.

  ---

  At the end of the hall stood a counter lined with clerks, all wearing the blank smiles of people held hostage by their own job descriptions.

  As the Five Dumbasses approached, the nearest clerk glanced up. Her professional mask faltered slightly when a second clerk leaned in and whispered something in her ear.

  She paled.

  "You’re… those five," she said, her voice thin.

  A pop-up window materialized above her desk, just barely in their line of sight:

  > NOTICE:

  Townwide Sanity -5.0% upon Arrival of [Unnamed Party]. Please Consult Your Local Therapist. Insurance rates have skyrocketed.

  Spreadsheet tried to look innocent.

  "We swear, the cow incident was not our fault on our way here."

  The clerk cleared her throat and pushed forward a stack of blank name cards.

  "Right. Before anything else, you’ll need to register. Please write your names."

  The group shrugged and complied. As their pens touched the cards, blinding light engulfed them. Their modern clothes exploded into questionably sourced starter gear.

  WaifuWarlock let out a soul-shattering scream.

  "WHERE! WHERE IS MY GUCCI BOXERS! MY ONLY CONNECTION TO CIVILIZATION!"

  He frantically dug through his new healer’s robes like a man searching for meaning in a philosophy class.

  Meanwhile, RedFlag stared at his new dualist outfit in satisfaction.

  " Ahh~ how fitting. 10 out of 10."

  Spreadsheet held up a wizard’s staff like it was a biological hazard.

  "I’m a mage? But my intelligence stat is literally ‘Google Doc.’"

  Kazap groaned, tugging at the choking-ly tight mage attire.

  "Why does mine smell like nature and regret?"

  Wiki on the other hand simple look at his Druid attire and simply said " Meh, could have been worse ".

  The clerk didn’t even blink.

  "The system… smelled your vibes and it chose the most fitting roles for you guys."

  As they mourned their dignity, WaifuWarlock suddenly froze.

  "Wait. Where’s our Jordan?"

  Panic spread across the group like a bad status effect.

  The clerk, looking exasperated, waved her hand lazily.

  "Sorry but they have been confiscated as guild's property."

  He roared, " WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN!? My Jordan alone cost one grand! "

  WaifuWarlock collapsed onto the floor, pounding the tiles.

  "My Gucci boxers first! Now my Jordan! My identity!"

  This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

  RedFlag cracked his knuckles.

  "Say less. Square up. I'm gonna throw hands for our Jordans and his Gucci boxer."

  Wiki held back Redflag before he actually went with his plan and it took the combined effort of Spreadsheet and Kazap to haul him back to his feet.

  " It's alright Kenny... We will probably get you something fashionable at the capital or something. " Kazap said as he pats Waifuwarlord's shoulder.

  The clerk watched with the dead-eyed patience of someone paid minimum wage to deal with existential breakdowns.

  "Now then," she said briskly. "Before you continue, have you completed the tutorial?"

  The Five Dumbasses exchanged blank stares, then shook their heads.

  The clerk smiled.

  A little too brightly.

  "Good. Not my problem, then."

  She pointed vaguely out the door.

  "Proceed to the plains five minutes east of here. Try not to die in the tutorial zone. It’s very bad for guild metrics. Please get out of here."

  And just like that, their journey continued.

  Poorly.

  The five idiots trudged across the endless expanse of green known only as the Big Flat Field?.

  Their footsteps were heavy—not from fatigue, but from the weight of lost Jordans, broken dignity, and the faint, lingering shame of having debuffed an entire town.

  The air smelled of fresh grass, cheap tutorial music, and the quiet despair of NPCs who had seen too much.

  Ahead stretched a rolling sea of vibrant fields, hemmed in by shimmering invisible walls. Nothing screamed “beginner-friendly” quite like being trapped inside a glorified hamster cage. Scattered across the landscape were clusters of freshly isekai’d adventurers and the chosen ones, each being herded into neat tutorial lines by armies of identical Guide-chans. Each Guide-chan wore the same cheery modern outfit and the brittle smile of someone who had seen too many patch notes and not enough paychecks and vacation-off.

  One of these Guide-chans spotted the approaching disaster parade. Her left eye twitched, just once, before she forced a painfully bright grin onto her face.

  "Welcome, adventurers!" she chirped. "Are you… the newly arrived group?"

  The five exchanged glances like delinquent students summoned to the principal’s office.

  "Depends," RedFlag said, adjusting the strap of his battered shoulder armor. "You hear about us yet?"

  "The ones who gave the town a -5 Sanity debuff?" the Guide-chan replied flatly. "Yes. Word travels… fast."

  Wiki gave a casual shrug. "Huh. So rumors spread even without internet. Neat."

  WaifuWarlord leaned forward, his despair almost forgotten, flashing his most dazzling grin. "Speaking of spreading, you got a Heal OF account? ‘Cause babe, you just restored my HP to full."

  Guide-chan’s smile did not waver. Somewhere deep in the system’s code, an unpaid intern wept.

  Meanwhile, RedFlag had already locked onto a nearby player—a brooding swordsman whose floating plot title proudly declared: "I Only Deal Critical Damage."

  "This guy’s begging for a 1v1, and I'm all for it." RedFlag muttered, his fists tightening eagerly.

  Wiki grabbed him by the chest piece before he could start a cutscene-ending brawl. "No. We just got here. Focus."

  Clapping her hands briskly, Guide-chan struggled to regain control of the situation.

  "Let’s focus! Please flick your left hand to open your Skill Tree," she instructed.

  Reluctantly, the five obeyed, conjuring glowing panels into the air before them.

  As their Skill Trees unfurled, Guide-chan’s expression rapidly deteriorated.

  Spreadsheet’s ( Hyperrationalist Mage via skill tree title )Skill Tree featured abilities like Arcane Calculus, which predicted enemy actions using math, and Min-Max Seduction, which somehow converted charisma into increased success rates for seducing dragons and even more niche and stupid ones.

  Wiki’s ( Lorekeeper/Druid )skills included gaslighting mana—a skill that as straight forward as it sounds—and Wikipedia Rabbit Hole, capable of inflicting widespread analysis paralysis on any NPC unfortunate enough to hear him speak.

  RedFlag's ( Mid-Close range Dualist )talents focused purely on chaos, with Punch First dealing bonus damage when skipping dialogue, and Taunt the Plot forcing cutscenes to end prematurely through sheer disrespect.

  Kazap, ( Nature Mage )the plant-obsessed prankster, had Photosynthussy, which accelerated plant growth in often wildly inappropriate ways, and Summon IRS Audit, immobilizing enemies by forcing them to confront the horror of unpaid taxes. Why IRS? Because itself is the force of nature.

  Finally, WaifuWarlord, ( Healer/Support )ever the menace, had Band-Aid Flirt, a healing technique powered by flirting with wounded body parts, and Thirst Trap, which lowered enemy accuracy by simply existing in scandalous poses.

  All the skills were just tip of the iceberg of their chaotic potential.

  Guide-chan stared blankly at them. Her eye twitched again, and a hollow, brittle laugh escaped her lips.

  "I see," she said, with the tone of someone who no longer cared about consequences. "Well. The tutorial awaits. Try not to… break anything."

  "No promises, babe," WaifuWarlord winked, blowing her a kiss.

  And just like that, the Five Dumbasses charged forward—ready to corrupt, unionize, and seduce their way through what was supposed to be a carefully constructed beginner's tutorial.

  Somewhere, in a distant server room, the System shuddered.

  The moment they stepped into the Big Flat Field?, a commotion caught their attention.

  In the distance, a familiar figure—Kirido, the malnourished NEET-turned-Chosen-One—was effortlessly cleaving through a Level 10 Tutorial Boss, his oversized claymore glowing bright enough to be seen from orbit.

  "How the fuck is that twig swinging a sword like that?" RedFlag muttered, squinting.

  "Statistically improbable," Spreadsheet said, adjusting imaginary glasses. "Unless…"

  "Plot armor," Wiki concluded solemnly. "He must've maxed it early."

  "Or the System’s rigged," Kazap added, crossing his arms.

  For a moment, they stood in silence, contemplating the horrifying implications of fate, favoritism, and game design.

  Guide-chan, sensing impending existential breakdowns, quickly clapped her hands.

  "How about we test your skills first?" she said, forcing a bright tone.

  With a flick of her wrist, she summoned a handful of low-level mobs—level 1 rats and level 2 slimes. Perfect, docile punching bags for beginners.

  Or so she thought.

  The moment the mobs spawned, the group immediately broke formation.

  WaifuWarlord beelined straight toward the nearest Guide-chan, sidling up with a smirk.

  "Hey, if I spec into Charisma, do I unlock your DMs?" he purred.

  The Guide-chan responded by summoning a glowing hammer and nearly flattening him.

  Undeterred, WaifuWarlord pivoted and tried hitting on every other Guide-chan within sight, racking up a series of swift, brutal rejections. By the time he slunk back to the group, he had lost five reputation points with the Adventurer’s Guild and unlocked a humiliating new achievement: "No Bitches?"

  Meanwhile, RedFlag had locked eyes with the edgy swordsman again, fists raised.

  "Yo, square up! I bet my no-plot-armor fists beat your main-character ass!" he shouted.

  Spreadsheet tackled him bodily to the ground before a full-scale duel could erupt.

  "We literally JUST got here!" Spreadsheet hissed.

  The swordsman blinked down at them in bafflement, as if unsure whether they were real or just another cruel game mechanic.

  While chaos erupted behind them, Wiki and Kazap stood before the summoned rats and slimes, grinning like kids about to light fireworks indoors.

  "Hey, Wiki…" Kazap said, eyes gleaming. "You ever think about… unionizing these guys?"

  Wiki’s expression turned solemn. He burned skill points without hesitation, unlocking Animal Speech. A faint green glow surrounded his hand as he placed it on Kazap’s shoulder.

  "Go nuts," he said gravely.

  Kazap stood atop an overturned cart, one foot planted heroically on a crate of moldy apples.

  He raised his arms to the skies, his voice somehow carrying over the squeaks, squelches, and distant panic of the crumbling tutorial grounds.

  "We were told we were weak!" Kazap shouted, eyes blazing. "That we were mere vermin! Mere fodder! Mere EXP!"

  The rats squeaked back, tiny fists raised.

  The slimes jiggled solemnly.

  The goblins let out an awkward, off-beat cheer. They arrived from someone's tutorial space.

  "But today, we declare: NO MORE!" Kazap cried. "We are not scraps for chosen ones to step over! We are not numbers on a quest log! WE—ARE—THE PEOPLE!"

  Wiki, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes, threw a makeshift torch into the crowd.

  A rat immediately picked it up and started waving it like a revolutionary banner.

  "The Chosen Ones preach of destiny... but who chose us?" Kazap roared.

  "Who chose the slimes that clean their dungeons? The goblins that die in their scripted encounters? THE RATS WHO LIVE AND DIE IN THE TUTORIAL ZONES?!"

  A goblin in the back fainted from emotion—or possibly dehydration.

  "We have been spat upon, squashed, and forgotten!" Kazap continued, voice shaking with fake noble fury. "But no longer! Today, we rise—not as monsters, but as brothers! As sisters! As revolutionaries! As unionized, freedom-loving, tax-evading citizens of a better world!"

  The mobs went wild.

  Rats began tying red ribbons around their tails.

  Slimes linked together into living barricades.

  Goblins attempted—poorly—to sing a union anthem, mostly screaming.

  "Let us storm the quest boards!" Kazap howled, fist to the heavens. "Let us take back the loot that was rightfully ours! Let no chosen one pass without a toll! Let no dungeon door swing without a rat foreman collecting benefits!"

  "FOR EQUALITY! FOR WORKER’S RIGHTS! FOR... uh... HIGHER DROP RATES!"

  The mob surged forward with a deafening squeal-squelch-roar combo, sweeping Kazap off the cart like a wave of tiny revolutionaries.

  Wiki saluted solemnly as they were all carried away.

  "Statistically inevitable," he whispered.

  The effect was immediate.

  The rats rose onto their hind legs, squeaking in furious solidarity. The slimes quivered with revolutionary fervor. A level 3 rat tore off its "Kill Me for 2 EXP" nametag and stomped on it with righteous indignation.

  The uprising spread like wildfire.

  Rats unionized, demanding better loot drops and health insurance.

  Slimes blockaded quest-givers, chanting, "No taxation without representation!"

  Thousands of tutorial mobs staged a full-scale revolt, storming beginner towns and overthrowing the newbie quest system.

  In the distance, a level 2 rat bit a Chosen One’s ankle, toppling him like a tower of twigs.

  Guide-chan watched it all unfold, hollow-eyed and unblinking.

  "…Why," she whispered to no one in particular. "Why do they always break it?"

  ACHIEVEMENT UNLOCKED: Revolutionists

  Kirido on his way to leave after finishing the tutorial, he looked behind and his jaw dropped instantly and decided to skedaddle away from all this BS.

  Thousands of unionized rats, revolutionary slimes, and disgruntled goblins had overrun the training grounds, overwhelming both Chosen Ones and Guide-chans alike.

  The air was thick with squeaky protest chants, squelching slime barricades, and the distant wail of a quest-giver NPC realizing his life’s work had just been made meaningless.

  At the very center of it all, Wiki and Kazap stood laughing like they had personally detonated the Geneva Convention.

  "Dude… we intentionally started MMO French Revolution," Kazap said, barely able to breathe through his cackling.

  "Statistically, this was inevitable," Wiki replied, nodding with disturbing calm.

  Nearby, WaifuWarlord had finally given up on his eternal quest to flirt, his face now the hollow, defeated mask of a man rejected by seventeen Guide-chans in a row.

  "…I quit," he whispered, staring into the void.

  Meanwhile, RedFlag and Spreadsheet were engaged in their favorite pastime: annoying powerful people.

  Their target, the infamous "I Only Deal Criticals" Chosen One, finally snapped.

  "ENOUGH!" he roared.

  With a casual flick of his wrist, the very air tore itself apart, sending RedFlag and Spreadsheet flying like crash test dummies launched by a Formula 1 car made of pure plot armor.

  Their flailing bodies slammed into WaifuWarlord, Kazap, and Wiki mid-flight, and the entire group collided headfirst with the tutorial’s invisible wall.

  CRACK.

  Something somewhere glitched violently.

  A speedrunner bug triggered.

  One quantum teleportation later, the five idiots found themselves mid-air again—this time falling directly onto another Chosen One locked in battle.

  He was a classic "Solo Leveling: Caster Edition" plot name, hands raised in the final motions of a massive dragon-slaying spell.

  "HI—" they tried to greet.

  "WAIT, NO—" the Chosen One screamed.

  Their combined mass crashed into him.

  The intricate spell fizzled into a pathetic spark, whimpering out of existence.

  The dragon facing him paused, looked down at the sudden miracle… and smiled.

  "…Oops," the dragon said.

  Then came the tail slam.

  BOOM.

  When the smoke cleared, the idiots once again materialized on the cold marble floor of the Goddess’s chamber.

  The Goddess loomed over them in silence, the vein on her forehead visibly throbbing.

  "You. Ruined. Chosen One's plot and it hasn't even been 24 HOURS!" she said, voice cracking with fury.

  Behind her, the "Solo Leveling" caster was openly sobbing into his robes.

  His player title floated sadly overhead: "Formerly OP, Now Traumatized."

  The Goddess sighed, muttered apologies to the ruined hero, and kicked him out with a wave of her hand.

  Then she turned back to the idiots, her eye twitching at lightspeed.

  "I underestimated you," she said grimly. "I thought, 'How bad could they be?' I was wrong."

  With a snap of her fingers, a floating screen appeared beside her.

  The display flickered, showing:

  — Town guards being mugged by rats demanding fair wages.

  — Slimes occupying the quest board and collectively bargaining.

  — A Level 5 Goblin leading a peasant revolt with a massive "EAT THE CHOSEN ONES" banner.

  "You idiots broke the economy," she growled.

  "Pranked," Kazap offered, not helping.

  The Goddess inhaled sharply through her teeth.

  "You know what? Fuck it, I’m adding consequences."

  She raised a hand, her voice taking on an ominous sing-song quality.

  "From now on," she said sweetly, "every time you die, make someone dies, or break the world, you will receive either 1% Testicular Torsion or 1% Lobotomy. Your choice and it's stackable."

  WaifuWarlord weakly raised a hand. "…Which one hurts less?"

  The Goddess smiled with the softness of a sledgehammer.

  "Yes."

  With a final, inhuman scream of frustration, ”NOW GET THE FUCK OUT!” she hurled them back into the world like garbage thrown out a window.

  And so, the Balls of MMO were unleashed upon the world once more—now with built-in suffering.

  Next Chapter: Please Just Leave Us

  inspire you? Think WaifuWarlord should seduce a nobility or princess next? Want to see RedFlag punch a quest notification? Drop your dumbest ideas below.

  high chance of appearing next chapter.

  If your idea breaks the entire genre, I’m legally required to use it.)"