Rinse, wash, repeat.

These mandatory options was done everyday by our black-skinned protagonist, who was just able to savage this piece of normality into his mourning routine. "Man, it's just gonna be one of those days, ain't it?" Maxwell commented as he sat himself down on the toilet seat.

As usual, life is getting a bit too dull for my liking, but my way of spicing up life would probably not go so well in society, the man internally monologued, as he hovered over the seat, waiting to excrete his waste. Of course, this meant that Maxwell Richards would be skipping out on work early, after halfheartedly skimming over the papers that were about other people's mistakes, failed bankruptcies or just people complaining.

All in all, it was not a very self-satisfying job which left the man to look for extracurricular activities at his own time. Usually, this ended being either joining some kind of competition, parkouring with the thrill of his life on the line, or just popping a cold Sprite with the boys over a nice Smash Bros Session.

Unfortunately, 'spicing up life' wasn't going to be a likely option as exposing supernatural abilities would mostly attract the wrong people, as told by the movies.

But now it wasn't the time to be reminiscing work after-hours; now was time for the quite literally... shitting.

A broadcasting of a bizarre expression, and a bizarre clenching of muscles later, the man had completed the last step in the digestive system. Looking up at the clock, he saw that it read 8:10 A.M. Upon seeing this the man sighed, wiping off wet hands with a moist towel. "It seems like it's time for me to get back into the modern slavery." With a white jacket, green undershirt, blue jeans and sketchy off-brand Nikes, the man was set to go and conquer the workforce.

Opening the door, he was met with what one would identify as a 'reaper', with the dark robe, large scythe and all. Maxwell could easily identify its gender as female, as he didn't see many men with assets on their upper chest. The pale complexion of what small patches of skin that wee visible, indicated that this woman didn't get out in the sun much.

Or A.K.A. the wrong person.

Instead of freaking out over the existence of an inhuman creature in his home, the man just plainly asked, "I hope this isn't the end, for there is much fun to be done in the future, like... playing Roblox, or beating up people... in games, of course." No need to freak out, it's so generic it could drain the fun out of anything.

The reaper, showing a downcast expression, shook her head and held her scythe closer to her chest. Maxwell took notice of the numerous skulls that were melded together at the end of the blade. "No, but it is time for you to meet us in the Netherworld," she said as-matter-as-factually, her tone empty and seemingly lifeless. Her scythe began to slightly glow a maleficent red.

Netherworld..?! And she seems to have supernatural abilities too, Maxwell rationalized, slowly flexing his fingers while doing so. "And who is exactly is 'us'? And how are you going to bring me to them..."

Maxwell trailed off as he saw the reaper raise her scythe high above her head. The man grunted and brought his arms to cover his his face, as a heavy gust of air suddenly appeared out of the unknown reaches of his one room apartment, now settling into a 'heavy' dark miasma that seemed to exerting gravitational force on himself and the numerous items in his bathroom. I know I asked for some excitement, but paying repair bills isn't my sort of thing.

Her expression went dark. "Then, this is a goodbye," she said rearing back and shifting her scythe into a position that more suited for beheading one's head off... or sending people to the so called, 'Netherworld'.

The scythe flew forward, but Maxwell was already swinging a discounted razor as if it were a legendary weapon capable of stopping the mighty administrator of death. "You wish for a fight?! Then I'll give you one thrice-fold!" The man yelled out as his 'weapon' making contact with the reaper's glowing scythe.

Outside, those who were walking past could see a bright light engulf the house as it seemed to fade away from existence.

When the man came to, he found himself on a surface that was impossible to be moved on. To be exact, he was falling through the air at a speed surpassing terminal velocity. "Damned reaper!" He yelled out, flailing his arms uselessly as the distance between him and the ground grew less with each passing second.

Okay, I've heard about 'surface tension'... Maxwell nearing the surface below him, pulled out one of his shoes and sent it flying to the ground only moments before he met contact with it. Ha, Got ya!

A tower of dust exploded from the area of impact. And in the midst of it all, a shadow of a young man slowly rose up from the ground, in a matter not unlike that of a zombie's. "Ahhh," he moaned out, clutching his thighs with both hands. "Me legs feel like they have been replaced with the jelly. But at least I'm not dead, now that would've just been oof."

As Maxwell gathered his bearings, he took a moment to give his surroundings a quick look over. Looking to his left, the man was met with a grand, lush forest that managed to look both Tropical and Temperate simultaneously. Brushing aside the rather unnatural biome, Maxwell turned to his right, and was this time met with an old, semi-medieval looking town.

"I doubt they'll have Wifi or any electronics for that matter," he said, voicing out his issues to no one in particular. Heaving, he hopped up slightly, getting the blood rushing back into his legs. But I did ask for an adventure. Hopefully this isn't generic as hell, though.

With that thought rebounding of the walls in his head, Maxwell set off to go and meet the townspeople.

A few hops and a skip later, the man had reached the outskirts of the village. As came closer, he spotted a sign reading, 'Welcome to Ilias Village! Worship Ilias!'. Maxwell inwardly cringed in disgust as he slowly backed away from the sign. "Man, oh man, I really hate cults. Too many simple minded people…"

Squish!

"Holy shite!" He exclaimed, leaping back as if he were a deer caught in head-lights. Slowly raising his shoes, Maxwell could spot a slime-like liquid slowly dripping off of it. Fucking hell, and these were new ones too. "Who would do such a thing?"

"Hehehe, why, I would…" A feminine voice eerily giggled out, causing Maxwell suddenly to slam his foot back into the ground. However, instead of the slime producing a satisfying splat, if had formed a ring around his shoe and was now receding back into the town.

"The hell?" Maxwell let out, as he walked after the slime trail. Of course, he would be a fool to let such extraterrestrial life leave his sight. And seeing as the reaper had practically annihilated his house and possibly sent him here, it wouldn't take him much to be after the creature.

Plus, he was quite hungry and the slime resembled a nice dollop of jelly. Surely a taste test in the future wouldn't hurt? With that in mind, the man trailed after the moving mass of slime, absently noting the lack of any persons in the decently sized town. To Maxwell's 'surprise', the mass of slime suddenly paused and began morphing into the shape of…

"A slime girl?!" The man exclaimed, more bewildered by the act then anything. First it was that Reaper girl… hope this one doesn't try to blow me away! It would really mess up my plans and all.

The slime girl turned her now anime-esque body to meet Maxwell's own features. "Hello mister! Why don't you join me in a never-ending embrace of love! Oh, I bet you'll taste so exotic." The bubbly creature held her outstretched arms in the man's direction, small drips of slime residue falling of as she did so.

"How about we hippity hoppity over to no property?" The black-skinned man responded, tensing up his muscles ever-so slightly.

The slime girl brought a finger to her chin, tilting her head slightly while doing so. "Hoppitng, I'm not a frog… I just want to love you and for you to love me!"

Maxwell shook his head slowly whilst backing away. "Look mate, I don't know how you monster-folk do it, but according to ever so accurate romance dramas, love takes at least a few days to take effect."

"Oh~ but I thought we could get to now each other physically," the slime replied, licking her lips with great hunger.

"Well. It appears that we do not see eye to eye; time to resort to pulling my non-existent bullshit protagonist powers," Maxwell muttered under his breath, as he scanned his surroundings for any viable weapons. "Maybe I could make do with that chair…"

"What are you saying, hunny?"

The black-skinned man gave her a fake cheery smile and placed his weight on his left foot, prepared to backpedal at the slightest indication of approach. After all, he couldn't afford to get his outfit soaked. "Oh nothing," he replied, sticking his hands into both pockets.

But before anything resembling a fight could take place, a yell rang out through the air, shifting both of their attention to a shorta purple-haired kid who was running towards the confrontation with a certain 'package' recognizable to any avid anime watcher.

Cape, pants, boots, medieval-looking shirt and a sword that actually looks useful? But where is his giant broadsword that you probably could never hold in the real world? Maxwell questioned as he took in the boy's outward appearance.

"Halt or uh… stop! In the name of justice, I shall rid you from this town for you are disrupting the peace and scaring my fellow townspeople!" the Generic Anime Protagonist Number 8765 exclaimed whilst raising its sword up in the air.

"It appears that the hero we needed has arrived."

Yep, took a long time to edit, oof.