Brand New Life Online: Rise Of The Goddess Of Harvest - Chapter 1879: Super Rider’s Biggest Fan
Chapter 1879: Super Rider’s Biggest Fan
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Fiction.
Fantasy.
Imagination.
These were the children of the human mind, unique to humanity itself.
Through this sapient mind, countless worlds of fantasy and fiction had been born.
Although many people still preferred “realistic” fiction, fiction remained fiction, born from human imagination, a fantasy, no matter how much some tried to deny it.
In this modern age, filled with so many problems, people often escaped reality by diving into fictional worlds.
Whether through novels, comic books, video games, or any medium that let them immerse their minds in something other than the bleakness they lived in.
Some treated it as a daily ritual after work.
Others devoted their entire lives to stanning their favorite fictional waifus.
And some loved their heroes so deeply that they dedicated themselves to becoming like them.
Then there were those who loved creating fantasy and weaving worlds of their own, artists, writers, music composers.
What defines an artist is the act of “creating something that nature would never produce on its own”, an expression of humanity’s ingenuity and imagination.
And in this moment, as the vast majority of people in Tokyo and its surrounding regions slept, all that accumulated “Imagination” began pouring out of their minds.
It fused and amassed into a giant, invisible cloud that only he could see, glowing with rainbow hues, a colossal mass of ink.
This ink rained down over the entire capital of Japan, yet not a single soul noticed what was happening.
“This world is too boring. It lacks color, it lacks love, it lacks… purpose. So let’s weave a new world with everyone’s ideas! Those with the talent and the love for it… will awaken their Heart of Imagination and show their passion for art to the world—together with me! I will be waiting for you, my friends!”
As that voice, brimming with childish hope and radiant happiness, echoed across Japan, people throughout the country began to wake up. Those already awake, whether marathoning childhood series, watching their favorite Vtuber livestream, or pulling yet another all-nighter for overtime, felt something stir inside their bodies.
“And we interrupt tonight’s transmission to report a dangerous Gate Break that has just occurred in Hachioji. Residents are advised to remain indoors as authorities handle the situation.”
“What? Again?”
A tall, burly old man with a shaggy short beard, tired blue eyes, and cropped black hair stared at his ancient TV. His marathon of his favorite childhood series, Super Rider, had been interrupted.
He wasn’t angry about the interruption itself, but about what was happening to the world.
The screen showed shaky civilian footage: giant skeletons and zombies shambling through streets, massive monsters terrorizing people, buildings crumbling.
He clenched his fists tightly, groaning.
“Why… Why does this keep happening? This world is… cursed! So much evil everywhere, and now real monsters… just like in Super Rider!”
He slammed his fist into the floor of his small apartment, screaming at the top of his lungs.
“Agh, damn it! If only Super Rider were here, he wouldn’t let this slide!!!”
His shouts pierced the paper-thin walls. Other tenants in the building woke up and shouted back.
“Shut the hell up already, Keitaro!”
“How long are you going to keep screaming every night?!”
“Can’t the landlord just kick this madman out?”
“Shut up! Some of us are trying to sleep! We have jobs, you know?!”
“Uwaaaahhh! Waaahhhh!”
Even children’s cries joined the noise, making everything louder and more chaotic.
“A-Ah…! I’m so sorry!”
Keitaro apologized, but the complaints continued. A single tear rolled down his cheek. He clenched his fists, bolted out of his apartment, and ran.
He ran and ran and ran while crying.
“Nobody understands me… nobody understands my love and passion for Super Rider!”
He gritted his teeth, dashed into the forest, and in the middle of the night…
BAAAM!
“Nobody understands that this world needs a hero!”
BAAAM!
“Damn it! Why can’t I henshin?! Why can’t I do what he does?!”
BAAAM!
“No, I have to believe it! I have to just believe I can!”
BAAAM!
Keitaro, an ordinary man with no supernatural gifts, no magical bloodline, no hidden lineage of sorcerers, no demigod heritage.
A completely normal human being.
BAAAM!
—was punching the same giant tree every day and every night, carving it with his bare fists.
He had been doing this for three decades.
Now, approaching his forties, he was slowly beginning to realize that his dream had been nothing but foolishness.
Day after day, week after week, year after year.
There had always been one single dream driving Keitaro’s entire life.
“I want to be a Super Rider!”
Super Rider—his favorite TV show from the 1980s, where an ordinary person could transform through “Henshin” and become the powerful, mysterious masked hero.
Even now the series endured, though mostly among nostalgic older men. New generations preferred isekai and other genres over classic tokusatsu.
“Haaa… Haaa… Haaaa…”
He gasped for breath, gazing up at the stars. A shooting star streaked across the sky. His eyes widened for a moment, filled with childlike wonder.
He closed his eyes and made a wish.
Then he opened them again and shook his head.
“Like that would ever happen.”
CRASH!
“Ah!”
His eyes widened as the tree he had spent years punching finally toppled, split cleanly in two.
“Oh… so this one fell too. I should leave before someone notices.”
He looked at his fist—covered in a thick, stone-hard layer of calluses from decades of insane effort to become a “Super Rider.”
Something that, at his age, he was finally starting to accept was nothing more than a childish delusion.
“I have work tomorrow…”
He yawned and looked at the sky.
He paused, realizing he wasn’t far from that area.
From Hachioji—the prefecture where a Gate had opened and was now under quarantine.
“…Nah.”
He shook his head and walked down the hill to a convenience store, where he bought some instant ramen.
He stepped outside, glanced at the eerily silent streets, and…
“Huh?”
“Gruh?”
He froze.
A skeleton stood at the far end of the street—clad in rusty armor, clutching a large shield and a massive ghostly axe.
“…”
“…”
Keitaro took one cautious step back.
The skeleton stared blankly for a moment, then…
Charged!
“GROOOHH!”
“H-How did this thing get all the way over here?!”
Keitaro ran. The monster ignored him and barreled straight into the convenience store, smashing it with its enormous weapon.
CRASH! CRASH! CRASH!
“Aaaaagghh!”
The clerk inside screamed as walls collapsed around him.
“Ah!”
Keitaro’s eyes widened. He looked back.
What should he do?
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