The last thing I saw was the grille of the truck, a chrome smile filling my vision. The last thing I felt was a shove—my own—pushing the little girl in the pink dress back onto the curb. The last thing I heard was not the screech of brakes or the sickening crunch, but her mother's scream, a sound of pure, unadulterated terror that was, weirdly, not meant for me.
Then, nothing.
No pain. No light. No sound. Just… an absence. A profound, weightless, senseless nothing.
I floated. Or maybe I was falling. It was impossible to tell. There was no up, no down, no left, no right. Only an infinite, silent, starless black. Panic, that old familiar friend, tried to claw its way up a throat I wasn't sure I still had. But it fizzled out, smothered by the sheer, overwhelming neutrality of this place. This was the void. Not hell, not purgatory. Just… the waiting room.
Well, shit. I'm dead. Sixteen years. That's it? The thought surfaced, calm and detached. Orphan, loner, decent enough grades, died saving a kid. Not a bad epitaph, all things considered. Better than "died alone in his apartment eating instant noodles," which had seemed the most likely outcome.
Time became meaningless. A second, an hour, a century—all felt the same. Then, a change. Not a light, but a presence. A point of focused awareness in the infinite blank.
"Welcome, soul," a voice said. It wasn't heard; it was understood, vibrating through the very fabric of my being. It was neither male nor female, young nor old. It was calm, curious, and carried the weight of epochs.
Before me, the void shimmered. Not into a shape, but into the idea of a shape—a humanoid silhouette woven from condensed starlight and shadow, its features indistinct but its attention absolute.
"Uh… hi?" I thought back, the concept forming in the void. "Where am I? And… what are you?"
"You are in the Interstitial," the being communicated. "A space between destinations. I am… a custodian. A guide. You may call me Kael, if you require a name. Your physical life has ended. Your journey, however, may continue."
"Continue? Like… reincarnation?" I'd read enough manga for this to not be completely shocking.
"In a manner of speaking," Kael replied. A sense of amusement flickered. "Your life, though brief, was marked by a net positive moral balance. A selfless final act. The system, therefore, offers you a choice."
"Heaven?" I ventured.
"A realm of eternal peace and contentment, tailored to your subconscious ideal. No suffering, no want, no struggle. A fitting reward."
It sounded… nice. Boring, but nice. After a life of foster homes and quiet loneliness, eternal peace was tempting. But something in Kael's tone hinted at another option. "You said 'choice'. What's the other one?"
"The other," Kael said, the starlight of its form brightening slightly, "is transmigration. Your soul, with its memories intact, may be sent to any fictional universe you desire. Any world born of imagination, from the pages of a book or the frames of a film. You may live a new life there, bound by its rules and realities."
My mind, even as a disembodied consciousness, reeled. Any fictional world? The possibilities were infinite. But… "What's the catch?" I asked, suspicion born of a lifetime of getting the short end of the stick kicking in. "There's always a catch. Do I become a slime? A sword? A villager who dies in chapter one?"
Kael's amusement deepened, a warm ripple in the void. "Perceptive. The 'catch' is that you begin as a newborn infant in that world. No inherent power, no destined hero status—unless you are born into it. You must grow, learn, and survive within that world's natural order. However, due to a… clerical error in your original life's circumstances, I am permitted to grant you a minor compensatory advantage."
"Clerical error?" I echoed.
"Your status as an orphan," Kael explained, its tone turning slightly bureaucratic. "It was the result of a system fault. A misplaced decimal point in a hospital database during a chaotic blackout. Your biological parents did not abandon you. They believe you died in childbirth. They are, in fact, alive and well. They are among the top ten wealthiest individuals on your former planet."
The information hit me like a phantom punch to a phantom gut. A whirlwind of what-ifs and could-have-beens threatened to form, but I forced it down. What was the point? I was dead. That life was over. Raging against a cosmic typo wouldn't change anything. The bitterness was there, a sharp, acrid taste in my non-existent mouth, but I let it flow through me and away into the void. Dwelling on it was a path to madness.
"Wow," I finally sent back, my mental voice flat. "That's… a hell of a typo. But like you said, I'm dead. So, moving on. I get to pick a world and I get one 'compensatory advantage'?"
"Three," Kael corrected. "A trifecta of boons, within reason. They cannot instantly make you omnipotent or break the fundamental laws of your chosen world. They must be integrated seamlessly. Think of them as… exceptionally potent natal traits."
Three wishes. My mind, a lifelong library of anime, manga, and web novels, went into overdrive. I needed a world where growth was possible, where power could be earned, and where my modern knowledge might have some use. A world with magic, monsters, and adventure. A world I knew intimately.
"Mushoku Tensei," I said, the decision solidifying instantly. "The world of Mushoku Tensei: Jobless Reincarnation."
Kael's starlight form pulsed with what felt like approval. "A fascinating choice. A world of intricate magic systems, formidable races, and great turmoil. A world where a second chance is the entire theme. Very well."
A shimmering parchment, etched with glowing symbols that hurt to look at directly, materialized before me. It had three blank columns.
"Inscribe your three boons here," Kael instructed. "Consider them carefully."
I focused. My first wish was obvious. To navigate a fantasy world, to quantify growth, to have a path to power that I could understand—nothing was better than a system.
Boon 1: The Gamer System. I envisioned the ability from the manhwa The Gamer, as detailed in its wiki. A system that would treat life as a role-playing game. It would include:
· A Status Window showing my name, level, HP, MP, and attributes (Strength, Vitality, Dexterity, Intelligence, Wisdom, Luck) that could be increased with points gained per level.
· An Inventory—a dimensional storage for items and equipment.
· A Skill List showing all learned skills and their information.
· Gamer's Mind and Body: mental immunity to panic, fear, or confusion, and a body that treats wounds as HP loss and recovers fully with rest.
· A Shop Interface that sells skills, bloodlines, traits, weapons, and items for a currency earned through quests or achievements. This shop would be limited by my level and the world's available concepts.
· Quests, Achievements, and a Levelling System that grants experience for defeating enemies and completing tasks and added options in the future.
· A Starter Gift upon activation.
I imprinted this complex concept onto the first column. The symbols glowed blue.
"The Gamer's paradigm," Kael observed. "A powerful framework for self-optimization. It will integrate with the world's mana system. To avoid overwhelming a newborn consciousness, it will activate when you turn three years old. The starter gift will be delivered then. Is this acceptable?"
"More than fair," I agreed. During the waiting period i could observe the world somewhat .
Now, for raw, adaptable power. The second boon needed to be a growth engine, something that would let me capitalize on the dangerous world I was entering. I thought of the manhwa I Get Stronger the More I Eat.
Boon 2: Predator's Assimilation. I focused on the ability of Kim, the "Pet Shop". The power to, upon consuming the flesh or essence of a creature, absorb its physical traits, skills, and unique abilities. Not just copying, but integrating. Scales for defense, a dragon's fire sac for breath attacks, a troll's regeneration, a slime's acid resistance. The ability would also grant shapeshifting to manifest these traits and a dimensional storage for "spare parts". Most importantly, it would work on anything—beasts, monsters, magical creatures, even demons and gods, with the potency of the trait absorbed scaling with the amount consumed and my own growing power.
I etched this onto the second column. The parchment gleamed with a voracious, crimson light.
Kael was silent for a long moment. "This is a potent and… hungry ability. It resonates strangely with the chosen world's codex. I see a synergy. This power can be woven into your being as a mutated form of a Laplace Factor. In that world, the Laplace Factor is a dormant demonic trait that grants increased magic potential and unique characteristics. Your 'Assimilation' will be your unique, active Factor—a Laplace Factor of Devouring. It will be active from birth, though your infant form will limit its initial use. This integration is… elegantly efficient."
I let out a mental sigh of relief. That solved the problem of how such a foreign power would exist there.
One boon left. I needed combat power, something immediate and versatile that didn't rely solely on eating monsters. Something that could work in a world where cursed energy didn't exist. I needed to cheat. I thought of the newest, most broken techniques I'd read about in the sequel to Jujutsu Kaisen.
Boon 3: The Dual Cursed Techniques of Dabura Karaba. I called upon the knowledge from the recent revelations in Jujutsu Kaisen Modulo. I wouldn't get Cursed Energy itself, but the innate techniques, adapted to run on my mana—the magical energy of the Mushoku Tensei world.
1. Dabura's first cursed technique is a concept inherited through the Deskunte Tribe that is impossible to pronounce by humans. It is described as "murderous intent given tangible form."
2. Light (Hikari): The second technique, granting the ability to produce, manipulate, and solidify light. This meant light beams, blades, shields, and constructs. At higher mastery, it could enable movement at light speeds and eventually faster due to the unique physics of the world of Mushoku Tensei
These were not skills to be learned; they were to be innate, part of my soul's structure, awakening as I grew and my mana pool developed. I imprinted this final, devastating package onto the third column. It blazed with pure, golden light and a deep, unsettling shadow.
The void seemed to hold its breath. Kael's form shimmered intensely. "The techniques of a Simurian champion… adapted to a Six-Faced World. A formidable combination. You have not tried to greedily ask for more boons or twist the rules. Why?"
I 'shrugged.' "The power level in Mushoku Tensei is high, but it's not about raw destruction. It's about versatility, survival, and growth. The System gives me a roadmap and a shop to fill gaps. Assimilation lets me build my own arsenal from the world itself. These techniques give me immediate, scalable offensive and defensive options that don't depend on what I've eaten. Together, they're more than enough. With them, I can make my own path."
A sound like distant wind chimes echoed—Kael's laughter. "Wisdom in your selection. A harmonious build, as the gamers would say. Very well. All three are granted and integrated. Now, the final parameters: where and when do you wish to be born?"
This was the easy part. I knew the story. I knew the family. I wanted a connection, but also a slight head start.
"I want to be born into the Greyrat family. In the Fittoa Region, Buina Village. As the firstborn son of Paul and Zenith Greyrat. I want to be Rudeus's older twin brother."
Kael nodded, a motion that sent ripples through the void. "A twin… an interesting variable. You will be born moments before him. You will share the Laplace Factor lineage, though yours is… uniquely mutated. Your arrival will be seamless."
The mystical parchment folded in on itself, dissolving into motes of light that flowed into my essence. I felt new structures imprinting on my soul: the dormant, game-like framework; the hungry, latent potential in every cell; and the two profound, opposite concepts of Murder and Light, waiting to be ignited.
"I hope you find the happiness you were denied," Kael said, its voice softening. "Farewell, soul. Begin your playthrough."
It snapped its fingers—a concept, not a sound.
The void vanished.
---
Sensation returned in a torrent of overwhelming, confusing input.
Pressure. Terrible, crushing pressure on every part of me.
Wetness. A slippery, warm fluid.
Sound. Muffled, rhythmic thumping, and a woman's distant, strained cries.
Light. A blinding, painful glare as the pressure on my head suddenly released.
I was being pushed, pulled, and then…
Cold. A shocking, dry cold on my skin.
Sound. A sharp, stinging slap on my back. My lungs, tiny and new, reflexively sucked in air and released it as a loud, indignant wail.
"It's a boy!" a woman's voice, tired but joyful, exclaimed.
"A strong cry! Look at him!" a man's voice, brimming with awe and panic.
I was lifted, wrapped in something soft, and placed on something warm and breathing. Through blurry, unfocused vision, I saw a woman with sweat-drenched blue hair smiling down at me with exhausted love. Zenith. My new mother. A man with spiky red hair peered over her shoulder, his handsome face a comic mask of relief and terror. Paul. My new father.
Before I could process more, another wave of pressure and activity began beside me. Moments later, a second, slightly weaker cry joined mine.
"Another! Twins! It's another boy!" the midwife cried.
Paul looked like his brain had short-circuited. "T-Twins?! Zenith, you… you glorious woman!"
I turned my head, my neck muscles protesting weakly. Beside me, wrapped in a similar cloth, was a tiny infant with a faint fuzz of red hair. His eyes were screwed shut as he cried. Rudeus. My brother.
A warm, profound fatigue, the fatigue of being born, washed over me. But beneath it, thrumming in my blood and soul, I could feel them: deep, dormant potentials waiting for their time. The System, a silent clock counting down to my fifth year. The Hunger, a patient, primal instinct. And the twin seeds of devastating Technique, one a silent killer, the other a brilliant light.
As my mother's gentle finger stroked my cheek, I let my newborn cries subside into a soft gurgle.
Okay, I thought, the conscious mind of a sixteen-year-old orphan cradled in the body of a newborn. Let's see what this new game has to offer.