The World of Fate

A large ritual circle traced itself out on the floor as he idly flipped through the pages of the catalogue of servants he had summoned through his authority, a far sight from the state he had been in a few weeks ago.

Dying and being Isekai'd into another world was generally seen as a good thing for the most part, gaining you incredible powers that usually left you some overpowered monster that could stomp your way through whatever world you happened to be sent to. There were some exceptions of course. Konosuba and ReZero came to mind. But there were more world's than that, that could be incredibly horrid to end up in.

**** World's that made Australia look like paradise in comparison. Ending up in the world of 40k for example. If you ended up there, then the best course of action would be to shoot yourself through the brain. There were a thousand and one worse fates you could earn in that universe, and chances were, 5 of them were lining up to say hello to you within the first 24 hours of your [arrival.

It](http://arrival.It) was to a **** world like that, that he had realised her had been sent to. Fate, for all the beautiful waifus and so on, was not a good place to be a normal person whatsoever. If you weren't a magus, then you were fucked. Dead Apostles, Demons, Magi looking for experimentation fodder, random acts of providence. There were plenty of deadly things lurking in the shadows just waiting to treat you as a tasty snack. Ending up in fucking Fuyuki made it so much worse. If the route was Heaven's feel, you might just get nommed down on by Sakura. Other route's might be better, but you were still going to have to deal with servants running around causing collateral damage, and that was assuming you were on a good end route.

Because the unfortunate possibility of ending up in the world of a branching VN, was that you might end up in a Bad End world. The Protag's plot armour only existed if they made the right choices, and could be stripped away at any moment with move that went against authorial fiat.

Suffice to say, in his blind panic at realising where he was, he'd left Fuyuki on foot, running off into the rural wilds of Japan to put as much distance between himself and the site of the **** **** Kill as possible. And it had been when he had almost been starving to **** out there, lost and alone, that the benefit of being in an Isekai revealed itself. He'd spent the first hour just laughing.

Now, there was not a single sign left of the almost broken man he had after first arriving. He was dressed in style, hair perfectly groomed, skin free of all blemishes, and physical form now tuned to absolute perfection. Even this little effort was entirely ceremonial. He could do anything after all.

He Owned the World.

This world was his. He could change it entirely as he wanted, because it was his to change. He'd plucked the moon from the sky and stuffed it into his pocket one the first night, and despite the huge consequences that should have come from that, there was nothing. The world continued on exactly as it had before, because he only wanted to change the one thing, and so he had. He wasn't some mechanic or programmer who had to meticulously assess each change to see what unintended knock on effects might come from it. He was an painter, and if he didn't like on part of his picture, he would just paint over it, again and again, until he got it exactly the way he wanted it.

Now the prospect of the Holy Grail War was just an opportunity. He could get plenty, for very little effort. And to start with, he was going to get himself a hot servant. Which was the purpose of his current browsing. He'd summoned himself a nice catalogue of heroic spirit hotties to select from, and now it was just a matter of choosing which one first. He idly flicked through page after page, information about each servant spelled out across it, complete with very sexy illustrations of them all posed as enticingly as possible.

Gender wasn't an issue either, given how easily it could be changed. Or Astolfo. Fucking Astolfo wasn't gay, it was practically his civic duty. Hmm... He flicked through quickly to find Astolfo's page. The Trap was posed incredibly enticingly, and with that fanged smug smile on his face even as he pranced upon the page in a crop top and skirt. He could admit to himself, he wanted to fuck that trap and leave him face down in a puddle of his own cum.

But right now he was feeling a hankering for tits. Big tits. And a flip of the page revealed the perfect pair.