Gacha Godmaker: Rise of the Fallen

ChangLe slammed his finger down on the Enter key. Post Successful! The words stared back at him from the screen: "After one year and nine months of non-stop updates, the main story is finally complete! Thank you all for your companionship!" "Happy Lunar New Year! Wishing everyone smooth sailing in the coming year!" "See you in the next book!" "END." He pushed back from his desk at Qingzhou University – sophomore year, Digital Media major dorm room – and practically exploded out of his chair. A wild flurry of celebratory windmill punches filled the air. Yes, ChangLe was a web novelist. Not a top-tier superstar, but successful enough. One year, nine months. Six hundred and thirty days. Four to six thousand words daily. The cost? A noticeable thinning of his hairline since starting college. But the payoff was real: financial freedom. He’d banked enough to coast comfortably, living large, An orphan with no parents, no plans for romance, marriage, or kids? ChangLe embodied "one man, full stomach, zero worries." His only significant investments were neatly lined up on his computer desktop: icons for every gacha game under the sun. “Yo! Le!” Qiu Yaojie stood in the doorway, suitcase in hand, looking hesitant. “You sure… you don’t wanna come home with me for New Year's?” New Year's was approaching, and the dorm was emptying fast. Everyone had family to go to. Everyone except ChangLe. As the unofficial "dorm dad," Qiu Yaojie felt a pang of guilt leaving him behind. “Pfft, why?” ChangLe waved him off dismissively. “Go! Have fun! Having the dorm to myself for a few days? Pure bliss!” No more Roommate #4’s chainsaw snoring, no more Roommate #2’s nuclear socks, no more awkwardly eavesdropping on Qiu’s late-night phone mush with his girlfriend. Solitude? ChangLe was raised by his grandmother; after she passed, he’d been on his own. Loneliness was an old, comfortable coat. He didn’t need pity. “Seriously?” Qiu Yaojie eyed him skeptically. “Dead serious! I’ve got mountains of backlog to clear! ZZZ’s new story arc, the new Tide release, Origin Celestia, Star Path, Nine Dust… FGO, Onmyoji… you name it, it’s queued up!” ChangLe, infamous on their floor as the "Gacha Sage," had a sacred duty to his neglected digital harem now that his novel was off his plate. “Well…” Qiu Yaojie grinned sheepishly. “While you’re at it… could you maybe clear my ZZZ story too?” “Call me ‘Godfather’.” “You’re my actual father.” “Good boy. Now scram. Do your own grinding.” ChangLe smirked. “You little--!” Qiu Yaojie dropped his suitcase, mock-threateningly rolling up his sleeves. They tussled playfully for a minute before Qiu finally grabbed his bag and headed out. Silence settled over the dorm. ChangLe didn’t mind. He dove headfirst into his PC, grinding through quests and dailies for a solid six hours straight. Finally, bleary-eyed and starving, he ventured out for food. The solo hotpot conveyor belt joint was packed with cozying couples. ChangLe focused on his meal, his mind already churning over ideas for his next novel. He specialized in multi-heroine fantasy harem stories, and playing tons of gacha games was prime "research." Post-apocalyptic world, beautiful mecha pilots saving the MC? He speared a fish roe bundle. Nah, soft sci-fi’s too niche. Contracting gorgeous mythical beasts as partners? Another fish roe bundle met its doom. Too harem-cliché, and beast-taming’s cooling off. Gotta write what sells… Maybe pure romance? Ugh, screw that. Knowing those readers, they’d find a way to turn pure love into a dirty joke. He skewered a third fish roe bundle. Behind him, a couple watched the last precious bundle vanish from their reach for the third rotation, their faces twitching. Oblivious, ChangLe finished up, planning a quick trip to the campus baths before another gaming marathon. Then his phone buzzed. Not a familiar ringtone, just a generic vibration. ChangLe frowned. No family. Friends texted via WeChat. Calls? Usually meant spam, scams, or delivery guys. The last two were practically interchangeable. He pulled out his phone. The screen displayed… pure gibberish. Not even an "Unknown Number" or "International Caller." Just scrambled characters. Scammers are getting bold. He tried swiping to decline. Somehow, his thumb slipped, and the call connected instead. Hesitantly, he raised the phone to his ear. Silence. He’d heard about voice-cloning scams; best not to speak first, even if he had few people to scam. But the voice that came through wasn't a robotic sales pitch. It was hauntingly beautiful, clear yet trembling with desperate hope. "I beseech you... answer my prayers..." "I beg the Divine... hear this faithful servant..." The voice was cool, controlled, yet laced with raw pleading and a faint tremor. "Bestow your grace... save Xianyue City from its end..." "This is the final plea of your Saintess... with my last breath..." "By my blood, I summon the Sacred Light... O Divine One, descend! Shatter these chains!" Silence. The call ended. ChangLe stared blankly at his screen, the gibberish caller ID still displayed. Then it clicked. Ohhhh. As a gacha game addict, he’d pre-registered for probably a hundred titles on TapTap. Game companies sometimes did these cool "in-character" calls as promo stunts right before launch… or before shutting down. He got these occasionally. Couldn’t remember which game this was for, though. The voice acting was top-notch – definitely worth sinking his teeth into. But… Who ARE you?! He frantically scrolled through his TapTap pre-reg list. Nothing launching today. Annoyed, he swiped back to his home screen… and froze. There it was. A new app icon. It looked standard for a gacha game: a girl with pale golden hair, eyes closed in prayer. Beneath it, the same gibberish as the caller ID. “Phew… Sneaky pre-load, huh? Freaked myself out~” Relief washed over him. He quickly detoured to the campus store for essential supplies (toilet paper, energy drinks, instant noodles – the holy trinity) before heading back to the dorm. The backlog of dailies in his old games whispered temptingly. But his gaze kept drifting to that new, mysterious icon. Most dailies reset at 4 AM anyway… Eh. Time to sink my teeth into this new 'flavor'. He tapped the icon.