（Machine translation）
"Now Ruby decides! Ruby wants Master… Max to become the Dungeon Master!" The red female kobold waved her claws, tilting her head back as she shouted her wish—higher than usual when speaking to Max, just a bit higher, maybe a few inches.
Max stifled a chuckle at Ruby’s naive wish.
"Mas…Max should listen to Ruby! Max must not laugh! Max must become the Dungeon Master right now!" Ruby leaned forward like an angry duck, her face nearly bumping against Max’s leg, her rear raised high, her tail flicking unhappily.
"Silly Ruby, what’s so fun about dungeons in this world?" Max bent down, smiling at Ruby. Her reptilian red head bore eyes brimming with emotion, and her curved horns shimmered with meticulously maintained scales. Max knew better than to touch her horns. Instead, he placed a hand on her forehead—both a soothing gesture and a precaution to prevent her from headbutting his knee in excitement.
"But… Ruby wants Max to be the Dungeon Master from the stories!" Ruby clearly hadn’t abandoned her original idea.
"Fine," Max had anticipated this outcome the moment Ruby voiced her wish. "Today is… March 1, 2050. Everything will revert on March 8, 2050."
"Reality overwrite…"
"Identity replacement…"
"Species population…"
"Rule modification…"
Dazzling text flashed across the screen, pop-ups layering until the display resembled a virus-infected computer. Had Max not known better, closing all these windows would’ve taken an entire afternoon.
"The restoration date is already set—what’s there to worry about?" With that, Max pressed the Enter key that would decide the world’s fate. A dizzying whirl followed.
When the world stabilized, Max found himself wearing medieval-style cloth stained with unknown multicolored fluids—clearly not everyday attire. His home desk had transformed into a massive wooden workbench reeking of earth and moss. Movie tapes, phones, and lamps had morphed into scattered scrolls, an intricately mechanical pocket watch, and a caged fire spirit wailing "Wah wah wah!"
Other items had undergone similar fantastical transformations.
The Chronivac remained, its form shifting from a computer to an antique typewriter. Its letters no longer appeared on paper but hovered midair like a swarm of orderly bees.
Clearly, Max now inhabited a world of swords and magic—nominally a grand mage and Dungeon Master.
"Ruby so cool! Max so cool!" The red female kobold with armour lunged at Max’s leg before he could process everything.
"AAAAAH, RUBY!!!" Max winced, prying her off his thigh. Hopping on one leg while clutching his injured knee, the image of this "great and mad archmage" losing composure over a pet kobold would’ve shocked the new world.
On the typewriter nearby, a stray message went unnoticed:
"Current time: February 12, 1000"