remake reborn in injustice

sorry i deleted the first story i did not like how the story was going so i decided to remake it 

The void stretched infinitely, a swirling mass of colors that didn't belong together. It was like standing in the middle of a collapsing dream, where space and time were mere suggestions, not laws. The protagonist, whose mind raced even faster than his heartbeat, stood in the center of this chaotic expanse. He tried to keep his thoughts in order, but there was nothing here to anchor him—no ground, no walls, no concept of distance or direction.

The voice came from everywhere and nowhere all at once, rich and resonating, as if the very sound of the universe itself was speaking. "You have been chosen."

He shook his head, confused, pushing the disorienting sensation out of his mind. "Chosen for what? I don't believe in fate. And I certainly don't have time for riddles."

The swirling mass around him twisted, and the colors began to coalesce into something resembling a figure—a vague shape of light and shadow, shifting in ways that defied explanation. The voice spoke again, now with a tone that conveyed patience, but also an underlying authority that sent a chill down his spine.

"You are in no position to question me, mortal. The fate of entire worlds rests upon your choices."

"Yeah, I get it," the protagonist muttered. "Worlds, fate, saving people, all that philosophical stuff. Just another grand design I'm supposed to follow, right? I'm tired of the speeches. Let's get to the part where you tell me what this is really about."

The being, for lack of a better term, flickered with intensity, and the swirling mass around them began to slow, forming solid shapes. The atmosphere now felt heavier, more grounded. A sensation of weightlessness turned into one of being completely tethered to a reality that felt real, if only for a moment.

"You are not being *forced* to act, but you are being *chosen* for a purpose far greater than anything you've experienced." The voice was soft now, as though it could almost sense the protagonist's reluctance. "A universe is on the verge of collapse, its balance already broken. There is a force, a tyrant who was once a hero, who has turned the tide of justice into tyranny. You will be sent to this world, to this… *Injustice* universe, to right what has been broken."

The protagonist's mind snapped to attention. *Injustice.* He had read the comics, seen the animated movies, understood the general premise of a world where Superman, the greatest hero ever to walk the Earth, had turned into a dictator after the loss of Lois Lane. He knew what that world was capable of—a place where the line between good and evil was so blurred, it no longer existed. He couldn't help but feel a cold chill of uncertainty.

"You're sending me into that nightmare?" he asked, incredulous. "Superman gone rogue, with all those other heroes either broken or subjugated to his will? Do you have any idea what kind of insanity you're asking me to dive into?"

The ethereal presence didn't answer right away. Instead, it shifted, the mass of light and energy slowly coalescing into a more defined form—a humanoid shape, but still vague, almost translucent. Despite its lack of form, it exuded power, a presence that sent an undeniable shiver down the protagonist's spine.

"I am giving you the tools to reshape that world," the voice responded, now laced with a tone of finality. "You will go to them not as a hero or villain, but as something they have never seen. You will wield power unlike any other, with the knowledge and abilities of Rimuru Tempest. You are more than a mere mortal. I've bestowed upon you strength, intelligence, and the technology necessary to reshape the world's future. But you must understand: you are not here to *save* them. You are here to correct their mistakes."

The protagonist's mind churned. Rimuru Tempest. He had heard of the legendary being—a creature of near infinite power, able to alter the very laws of nature, manipulate reality, and control an entire ecosystem with a thought. It was a being that could end wars, rewrite history, and even change the fabric of existence itself. And now, that power was his.

"So, you're telling me you're not sending me in to play the hero?" he asked, his voice tinged with disbelief. "I mean, I always thought I was more of an anti-hero type, but this is a little beyond that."

"Exactly," the god-like figure affirmed. "You are not their savior. You are a force, a catalyst for change. Sometimes, to rebuild, one must destroy. You will bring order, not by following the rules, but by rewriting them. You are the one who will bring balance back to a broken world."

A deep silence stretched between them. The protagonist's mind raced as he processed the implications. The stakes were clear: a world on the verge of collapse, a fractured timeline, and a power—no, the power—of Rimuru Tempest now in his hands. But something about the god's words gnawed at him. "And if I fail? What happens then?"

The god's presence shifted again, the air thickening with a weighty solemnity. "Failure is not an option. Your intellect will be your greatest weapon. You will not rely on brute force alone. You will build, you will strategize, and you will outthink your enemies. If you falter, if you lose sight of your goal, the consequences will be disastrous. The balance between worlds could collapse, and all of existence may unravel."

The protagonist's chest tightened at the thought. The weight of it all began to sink in—this wasn't just about a broken world; this was about the fabric of the entire multiverse being at stake. And yet, deep inside, a part of him, the part that had always felt like an outsider, felt a strange pull toward the idea.

"I've never really been the type to follow orders," he said, his voice firm. "But I've also never been the type to back down from a challenge. So, if you want me to do this, I'll do it. But it'll be on my terms."

The god's form pulsed once more, a silent acknowledgment. "Very well. But remember: you must walk the fine line between order and chaos. If you lose yourself, you will become the very thing you seek to eliminate."

The protagonist nodded, steeling himself. There was no going back now. He was about to step into a world where he wasn't just fighting for survival; he was reshaping a reality, playing a game with stakes far higher than anything he had ever known. But he was ready. He had always been ready for something like this.

"Then send me," he said, voice steady. "Send me to fix their mistakes."

With a final, resonating hum, the god's form flared brightly, enveloping the protagonist in an explosion of light. The air shimmered, and before he knew it, he was falling—no, *transitioning*—through the fabric of space and time, hurtling toward a world in chaos.

As the light dimmed, and the sensation of weightlessness disappeared, the protagonist found himself standing once again, but this time, on solid ground. The skyline before him was unfamiliar—yet, somehow, he knew exactly where he was. The towering buildings, the flickering street lights, the distant sounds of sirens—he had arrived.

Gotham.

The city of corruption. A city on the edge. The Injustice universe.

A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. This would be a challenge. But he was up for it. He was no hero, but he wasn't about to let the universe burn without doing something about it.

"Let's see what this world really needs," he muttered to himself, eyes narrowing as he surveyed the streets.

It was time to begin.