Albion lay on his bed, his mind replaying the day's events — the meeting, the dignitaries, Raye, everything. The weight of it all pressed on him, yet sleep tugged at his consciousness.
As his eyelids grew heavy, a single thought echoed in his mind.
"I wonder… was I reborn with any powers?"
He closed his eyes. For a moment, silence. Then he felt it — his body lifting, as if floating through water. A strange tension broke, like breaching the surface after being submerged too long.
Air rushed into his lungs. He gasped.
The world around him was bright — too bright. There was a humming noise, rhythmic and mechanical. The sound of wheels. Engines. Voices.
He blinked rapidly, disoriented, and stumbled backward into something solid. A glass window.
He turned to look. His reflection stared back at him — but not the draconic prince he knew.
A boy, six years old, stared from the glass. Human. Normal. Brown hair, dark eyes, skin without scales.
It was him… but not.
Albion blinked. Once. Twice. Then looked around again.
Tall buildings. Billboards. A woman yelling into a phone. A car honking. Someone in a ridiculous mascot costume handing out flyers.
His jaw dropped.
"…No scales? No wings?!"
He pinched his arm — hard. "Ow!"
He tried to summon mana. Nothing. Tried to open a portal. Nothing. Tried to roar.
…All he got was a squeaky "Raaah!" that earned a few stares from passing pedestrians.
Albion froze as realization struck him like a Divine Smite.
"Oh no. Oh no no no. I got reverse isekai'd!?"
He dropped to his knees dramatically.
"I went from a dragon prince—to a six-year-old human child! Where's my castle?! My servants?! My breakfast banquet?! Mother's power level alone could vaporize this place!"
A businessman stepped around him awkwardly, muttering, "Kids these days…"
Albion sniffled. "This world has no magic… no flight… no honor… and—" he spotted a nearby convenience store ad, "—apparently, they eat food that comes in plastic!"
He stared at the reflection again, tears welling up.
"Gods, why? I didn't even finish dessert!"
Albion stared at his human reflection, chest tightening.
The city noise faded into a dull hum — horns, chatter, advertisements — all blurring together into one overwhelming reminder of before.
He lifted his small, trembling hands. "This can't be happening…"
He could almost smell the disinfectant of the hospital room. Hear the beeping monitors. Feel the weight of the blanket that had once been too heavy for his frail body.
"No…" he whispered, stepping back. "No, I'm not going back to this… I escaped this world."
He stumbled, tripping over the curb, tears forming at the edge of his vision. "Please… not again…"
Then panic took over logic — pure, childish panic. He turned, smacked his head straight into the glass wall behind him, and everything went black.
When he opened his eyes again, the ceiling above him wasn't sterile white — it was carved marble, with faintly glowing runes. He blinked.
He was back in his room. The silken royal sheets. The faint warmth of mana in the air. His reflection in the mirror — white hair, blue stripes, faint dragon glow under the eyes.
Albion exhaled in shaky relief.
"…Okay. Okay, I'm fine. I'm still… me."
He sat up, holding his head. "Note to self: never doubt your reality again. It hits back hard."
Albion sat there, hand clutching his chest, still feeling the phantom beat of a human heart that had long since failed him.
His breath was shaky — half a laugh, half disbelief.
He looked at his reflection in the ornate mirror, his own draconic eyes staring back, bright and alive.
That hadn't been a dream.
He could still smell the city smog. Still hear the distant sirens and the chatter of strangers. Still feel the concrete under his bare feet.
He remembered that world — the one he'd left behind, the one he'd died in.
And then it hit him.
His eyes widened.
"Can I… cross worlds?"
The words hung in the air, trembling with both awe and dread.
He looked at his hand again — at the faint blue light pulsing through his veins like circuits.
If that was true…
If he could move between worlds…
Then he wasn't just reborn.
He was a bridge.
Albion stood in the middle of his room, hands on his hips, determination burning in his eyes.
"Okay," he muttered to himself, "if I did it once, I can do it again."
He looked around. No one else was there—just his plush dragon, a few floating mana crystals, and a portrait of his mom that somehow made her look disappointed already.
He cleared his throat. "Alright. Focus. Maybe… I just need to believe."
He closed his eyes dramatically, raised his hands, and started chanting nonsense.
"Return me to the world of… of Taxes!"
Nothing.
He peeked one eye open. Still the same room.
"Hmm." Albion scratched his chin like a wise old mage. "Maybe I need a trigger phrase… like 'Open Sesame,' but more… interdimensional."
He tried again.
"Take me back, human Wi-Fi world!"
"Reverse Isekai, Activate!"
"Teleport to McDonalds!"
Still nothing.
A maid passing by outside heard a thud as Albion flopped onto the floor, groaning.
"…maybe I need to hit my head again…" he mumbled.
Exodia's voice suddenly echoed in his head, dry and unimpressed.
"Please refrain from causing brain damage, young dragon."
Albion jumped. "Oh great, you were watching that?"
"Unfortunately, yes."
Albion glared at the ceiling. "You could've told me how I did it!"
"I could have," Exodia replied smoothly, "but watching you try was… educational."
Albion puffed his cheeks. "I hate you sometimes."
"Understandable. But if you're truly serious about crossing worlds again… perhaps try not headbutting walls this time."
Albion groaned, rolling onto his back. "Great. So I'm half-isekai, half-idiot."
Exodia hummed. "Half is generous."
Albion spoke in his head. "Ok, all mighty God, actually, what's your name?".
Exodia spoke in his head. "Exodia".
Albion choked on everything as he spoke. "Exodia, as in the Exodia, as the same one from the Holy Text and The Church of Exodia, God with a Capital G and the card band from all card tournaments in my past life".
Exodia's tone in Albion's mind carried that calm, ancient patience reserved for deities and parents of particularly energetic toddlers.
"Yes," the voice rumbled. "That one."
Albion's jaw dropped. "You—you're that Exodia?! The one who supposedly sealed an entire pantheon inside a deck of cards because they cheated at divine poker?!"
A long pause.
"…That tale has been exaggerated."
Albion threw his arms in the air. "EXAGGERATED?! You're literally the reason they banned your card in every tournament! Do you even know how many kids cried because they couldn't run a full Exodia deck?!"
"I am aware of my legacy," Exodia replied, his voice as dry as sandpaper. "I am less aware of these… 'tournaments.'"
Albion was pacing now, his six-year-old dragon tail swishing in agitation. "Oh great, I got God, the Overbeing, and the King of Card Combos in my head. Next, you'll tell me Blue-Eyes White Dragon was your pet!"
"Pet? Hardly," Exodia said, with a rumble that might have been laughter—or thunder. "Blue-Eyes is one of my drinking companions. Terrible tolerance, magnificent aim."
Albion blinked, staring at the ceiling. "You're telling me the Holy Texts left out that the King of Gods drinks with One Of The two dragons founder's?"
"Only on weekends," Exodia replied matter-of-factly.
Albion slapped a hand over his face. "I can't believe this. I died of cancer, got reborn as a dragon prince, and now God Himself—sorry, Exodia—is roasting me in my own head."
"Correction," Exodia said calmly. "I am mentoring you."
"Mentoring me in what?!"
"In the art of not concussing yourself trying to dimension-hop."
Albion groaned. "Fantastic. I'm being tutored by a myth, and his lesson plan is 'don't be an idiot.'"
"An essential skill," Exodia replied serenely.
Albion flopped back on his bed, staring up at the ceiling with a long sigh.
"…I miss when my biggest problem was learning multiplication."
Exodia then spoke. "Anyway, my time is short, we god can interact with you mortals for a limited amount of time, or risk having your mind broken, so before I lift, the way to cross world, a power only we gods and somehow you have, is to dream".
Albion blinked. "Dream? That's it? No portal chant? No glowing circle? No mystical Dragon roar of destiny?"
Exodia's tone was calm but carried a hint of amusement. "No. Just dream. The realm of dreams connects all worlds—past, present, and unrealized. But it is fragile. One wrong thought, and you could wake up in a world made entirely of taxes."
Albion's pupils shrank. "That's… a threat, right?"
"A warning," Exodia corrected. "Your will shapes the path. You've already touched another world once—your origin. But now that you're aware, the tether is stronger. When you sleep, you may cross again. However, the journey is not without risk."
Albion tilted his head, curious but nervous. "What kind of risk are we talking about? Like, lose-an-arm level or wake-up-in-a-different-body level?"
Exodia's voice darkened slightly. "Both. Or worse. You might awaken as a bureaucrat."
Albion screamed internally. "Nooooo! Not paperwork!"
"I see the warning has been understood."
"Loud and clear!" Albion nodded rapidly, tail thumping the bed.
"Good. Then one final thing before I depart."
Albion straightened. "What's that?"
"The worlds you visit through dreams will not always be real—some will be possibilities, others reflections of your fears or desires. But each one will teach you something. Learn from them."
Albion frowned, thoughtful. "So… dream-hopping is basically cosmic therapy?"
"…In the most reckless and dangerous way possible, yes."
Albion sighed. "Of course it is."
"Now sleep, young dragon," Exodia's voice began to fade, echoing faintly. "And remember—no matter what you see, don't panic. The dream only has as much power as you give it."
Albion blinked as his eyelids grew heavy, the divine voice slipping away. "Yeah, sure, don't panic. Easy for you to say, Mr. Infinite Power…"
As he drifted off, the light around him dimmed—and soon, his consciousness began to pull again, that same tug of weightlessness as before.
He groaned sleepily. "Here we go again… please don't be modern Earth again. Please don't be taxes again…"
Albion went back to sleep, as he closed his eyes, it reopened.
He looked around, as he saw himself back in the streets, back in the human form.
He looked around as he was supires it actually worked, as he looked around.
Albion blinked a few times, the glow of the city lights reflecting in his wide, disbelieving eyes. The noise, the smell of ramen stalls, the faint buzz of duel disks activating somewhere down the street — it all hit him at once.
He rubbed his cheek, then pinched it.
"Ow! Okay, not a dream. Guess Exodia wasn't joking. I really can cross worlds…"
He looked down at himself again — small body, same messy white hair, his Duel Disk faintly flickering on standby mode.
"Still six… guess my body syncs with the monster world's timeline. So if I grow there, I grow here too… neat and horrifying."
He began walking down the street, his little sneakers squeaking as he passed a shop displaying Duel Monster cards. He stopped dead.
Inside the glass display was him — or rather, the Blue-Eyes White Dragon.
Albion stared at it like he'd just seen his reflection on a wanted poster.
"…Oh, that's awkward."
A nearby clerk noticed the kid staring. "You like that card, huh? It's a classic! Kaiba's signature monster!"
Albion forced a nervous chuckle. "Yeah… classic. Totally not having an existential crisis over it or anything."
He turned and began pacing down the street again, muttering.
"So, let me get this straight. I can cross worlds by sleeping, meaning I can literally nap my way between dimensions. Does that make me… the ultimate lazy traveler?"
He stopped again, realization dawning.
"…Wait, can I bring stuff across?"
Albion looked around, spotting a nearby bakery. He smirked. "Only one way to find out."
Moments later, he walked out holding a donut from the free sample almost as big as his face. He took a dramatic bite, crumbs flying everywhere.
"Okay, test number one: if this donut survives the world jump, I've just solved interdimensional snack transport."
He raised the donut triumphantly like it was the Holy Grail.
"Behold, humanity — the first cross-dimensional pastry!"
People passing by just stared at the weird kid shouting at baked goods.
Albion didn't care. He was already thinking about what to try next.
"Alright… maybe next time I'll see if I can bring a Duel Disk over… or a TV… or—wait, if I can dream myself here, what happens if I dream while I'm here? Do I go… deeper?"
He paused, a horrified expression forming on his face.
"…Oh no. Dreamception."
To be continued
Hope people like this ch and give me power stones and enjoy