Jack now stood in the endless white void, arms crossed, staring at the floating words in front of him.

What would you like to create?

The air was still stale and silent, with no scent or sound, it's making him a bit antsy.

He felt like he's under the water.

"Alright,"

He muttered to himself, shaking his head for any negativity, the sound echoing off the void.

"I got a glass of water and baseball last time. That means I just need to take it up a notch."

*crack*

He cracked his knuckles, the sharp sound making him feel more focused.

He took a deep breath, feeling the air fill his lungs.

"I want… a sword!"

He declared, his voice firm, his eyes full of determination.

A sword shimmered into existence in front of him, its blade glinting in the faint light of the void.

Jack's eyes widened as he reached out, his fingers closing around the hilt.

It felt solid, the metal cool against his skin.

He lifted it, feeling the weight distribute evenly in his hand.

*snap*

The moment he lifted it, the entire sword broke in half like a cheap plastic toy, the sound echoing through the void.

Jack yelped as the blade crumbled into dust, disappearing into nothingness.

*clang*

The hilt slipped from his fingers, falling to the ground with a faint clang.

The words flickered again.

Your imagination is… lacking.

Try again.

Jack's eye twitched.

"Oh, screw you..."

He muttered, his voice laced with frustration.

But before he could even finish the sentence, a tiny screw materialized in front of him, followed by another, and another, and another.

*click* *clack* *clatter* *clang*

The sound of clicking and clattering filled the air as the screws multiplied, each one dropping to the ground with a tiny clang.

*click click*
*clack clack*
*clatter clatter*
*clang clang*

The screws kept coming, littering the void with a sea of shiny metal.

Jack's eyes widened in horror as he stumbled backward, tripping over the growing pile of screws.

"Hang on, hang on! What's going on? Stop! Stop!"

He yelled, throwing up his hands in a futile attempt to halt the screw onslaught.

But the screws just kept coming, pouring in like a tidal wave of metal.

Jack's frustration simmered over into panic as he danced around the void, trying to avoid the screw storm.

"Ah, I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Please stop!"

His voice hoarse from shouting

Then, as suddenly as it had begun, the screw onslaught stopped.

The silence was almost deafening, punctuated only by the sound of Jack's ragged breathing.

"Whew," he muttered, wiping the sweat from his brow.

Frustration still simmered beneath his skin, threatening to boil over at any moment.

This is ridiculous.

He had a reality-bending power, but it felt like he was trying to program a computer using a tomato.

The words floating before his eyes seemed to mock him, their calm, serene presence a stark contrast to his own frazzled emotions.

Jack glared at the words, his eyes narrowing in suspicion.

He didn't say anything, unsure if he might have hurt its feelings.

Yeah, that was a thing now – he had to worry about hurting the feelings of a mysterious, omnipotent force that controlled his reality-bending power.

It was absurd.

"I think it even tried to hit me with screws,"

He muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.

Jack rubbed his sore ears, remembering the screw that had whizzed past his it.

It even made him bled.

That was close.

Too close.

Jack's eyes locked onto the words, a spark of defiance igniting within him.

"You know, I don't think I like your sense of humor."

But the words did not respond.

"Why don't you just talk to me and explain instead of being like that?"

He found himself asking.

Geez, I think I've gone mad!

"Alright, let's try again,"

He grumbled, running a hand through his hair.

"A very cool sword. Like, a katana. Or something badass."

A new sword appeared, its blade gleaming in the faint light.

Jack picked it up cautiously, feeling the weight and balance of the sword.

This one didn't break immediately, which was a good start.

*whooshpp*

He swung it experimentally, the blade slicing through the air with a soft whoosh— It bent like rubber, the sound more like a sad flop.

Jack stared at the floppy, wobbly excuse for a weapon in his hands.

"What… the hell… is this?"

*swingpp*

He gave it another swing, and the blade flopped around like a wet noodle, the motion almost comical.

The words flickered.

Your concept of 'badass' is undefined.

Try again.

Jack let out a strangled groan, frustration boiling over.

"You have GOT to be shitting me!"

This was beyond ridiculous.

Every other person on Earth had powers that made sense—strength, flight, fire, teleportation.

Meanwhile, Jack had the power of imagination… and he sucked at using it.

"This is all because I never daydreamed, huh?"

He muttered bitterly, pacing back and forth across the void.

"I never let myself think about cool stuff, and now I can't even make a basic sword right."

He clenched his fists, feeling the familiar surge of anger and frustration.

He stopped pacing, his eyes narrowing as he thought.

When people imagined swords, what did they picture?

Fantasy swords?

Samurai blades?

Maybe something futuristic?

He clenched his fists.

The problem wasn't the power.

It was him.

He needed inspiration.

He needed references.

He needed to… wait.

Jack froze, a spark of hope igniting within him.

"If I can create things… can I create something that helps me be more creative?"

He turned to the floating words, hope sparking in his chest.

But it was still the same words.

Not answering and not suggesting anything.

As if it's just watching him.

"I want… a book about the coolest weapons in history!"

A thick book popped into existence in his hands, its cover embossed with detailed designs.

Jack flipped through it, eyes scanning the pages.

His hope is rising.

It was filled with detailed illustrations too and descriptions of legendary weapons—daggers, knife, excalibur, katana blades, giant war hammers, futuristic plasma swords.

Jack grinned, feeling a sense of excitement.

"Okay, this is what I needed."

He focused, taking in the details of one of the swords in the book.

"I want… this sword!"

A shimmering blade materialized in front of him.

Jack reached out, his heart pounding with anticipation— then the handle fell off.

The blade hovered in the air for a second before turning to dust.

Jack's grin vanished, replaced by a look of utter frustration.

The floating words flickered.

Your imagination is… still trash.

Try again.

Jack threw his head back and screamed, the sound echoing off the void.