Ryo woke up with such an intense backache that he almost preferred to stay dead.
He forced one eye open, expecting to see a white hospital ceiling, the typical beeping of monitors, or, with any luck, the angel of death ready to finally take him away. But he saw none of that.
What he saw was a blue sky—so absurdly pure and bright it looked like it had been run through an influencer filter. And honestly, that annoyed him.
"…Definitely not Tokyo," he muttered.
He tried to move. His body creaked in a thousand places, like he'd been used as a human maraca. He had grass stuck to his face—which, to be fair, wasn't that unusual in his life. The last time had been after a karaoke night, two bottles of sake, and a stupid bet that he could parkour between garbage bins. He'd pulled it off. Sort of.
But this time, there was no hangover. No garbage. And no explanation.
What he did remember was a horn. Screeching brakes. A white Prius speeding toward his face at a moderately murderous pace.
He closed his eyes and sighed."So… I died. Now what? Reincarnation in another world? Eternal life as a slime? Please, not a world with taxes."
With effort, he pushed himself up, hands pressing into the damp grass. His back cracked like a saltine cracker. That's when he felt the cold weight hanging from his neck. He looked down and saw a tarnished silver compass, its glass cracked like his dignity. It hung from a leather cord, and tied to it was a small note written in unfamiliar letters that, surprisingly, he understood:
"Follow the compass and you will find your destiny."
Ryo tilted his head. The compass was spinning erratically, like it had also just woken up with jet lag.
"My destiny? Could it be a warm bed and a decent breakfast before fighting dragons and stuff?"
The compass spun and spun, hesitating, until finally the needle pointed firmly northeast.
Ryo stared at it suspiciously.
"And if I don't follow you? Will you curse me? Turn me into a frog? Or worse, make me the protagonist of a senseless isekai harem?"
A cold breeze tingled the back of his neck. That was clearly a threat."Alright, alright… touchy. Let's go."
The walk began awkwardly. He didn't know exactly where he was going, but the compass seemed very sure of its direction, so he let it lead. With each step, his brain worked overtime, throwing out questions no one would answer any time soon.
"Why can I understand this language?""Where are the floating menus with stats?""Am I supposed to be barefoot?"
Because yeah. He hadn't noticed until now, but he wasn't wearing shoes. His gray socks—which didn't even match—were completely soaked with dew. And there was mud between his toes.
"Seriously? Not even a basic pair of magic boots?" he grumbled, trying to dodge a puddle that still managed to swallow his foot whole.
The scenery was beautiful, sure. Very storybook. Gentle hills blanketed in bright grass, flowers he'd never seen in his life, and a vast sky that seemed to say, "Welcome to your funeral, now with bonus content." He might have enjoyed it more if he didn't constantly feel like something was watching him from the forest.
In the distance, he spotted a figure. A small structure. A cabin, maybe. Smoke rising from the chimney meant life—or at least fire. His feet moved on their own.
As he got closer, he noticed a vegetable patch next to the house. And someone hunched over, working the soil. An older man, wearing worn linen clothes and a flat cap that looked like it had survived more wars than he had.
Ryo raised a hand timidly."Hi there! Uh… excuse me?"
The man slowly straightened up. He looked Ryo up and down, then fixed his eyes on the compass hanging from his neck. His expression changed.
"…Where did you find that?"
"This?" Ryo lifted the compass. "I woke up with it. Is it valuable? Because if it is, I could really use a pair of shoes."
The old man didn't laugh. In fact, he took a step back. He mumbled something under his breath—too low to understand.
"Did I say something offensive? Is this like a family heirloom or something?"
"You shouldn't wear that in the open," the man said seriously. "Not here. Not anywhere."
"Well, thanks for the warm welcome," Ryo muttered. "Can you at least tell me where I am?"
"The fields of Liria. Two leagues from Luminar. And one wrong step from trouble if you keep showing that thing."
Ryo decided not to push his luck. He gave a curt thank-you and continued down the dirt path, which—according to the compass—still pointed northeast. He was starting to suspect that needle couldn't decide whether to ruin his day or his entire month.
Eventually, the path brought him to a village. Not a big one. Dark wooden houses, thatched roofs, laundry hanging out to dry, and the smell of bread. Children chasing after animals. A place straight out of a postcard—if you ignored the suspicious looks from the villagers at the sight of a drenched stranger with Monday face and a compass hanging from his neck.
In front of what looked like a tavern or inn, an old man with a white beard sat on a bench, watching him.
"Stranger…" he said in a deep, inquisitive voice. "You don't look like you're from around here."
"Correct. I'm so lost that if I had a map, it would tear itself up out of shame," Ryo replied, more out of reflex than politeness.
The old man didn't laugh. His eyes dropped to the compass. He tensed.
"Do you come from the Central Kingdom?"
"Is that like… the capital? No. Tokyo, technically. I think. Does this count as a post-death hallucination?"
The man didn't answer. He stood up slowly, approached, and pointed a bony finger at the compass.
"Where did you find that?"
"Third time I've been asked that," Ryo muttered. "Look, I woke up with it. I have no idea what's going on. Could you at least tell me why everyone's reacting like I'm carrying a bomb?"
The old man sighed.
"That compass… is broken. And worse, it's cursed. Its bearer carries the whim of a god who no longer plays fair."
Ryo blinked, processing that.
"Cursed? Wait, wait… what!?"
Without thinking, he grabbed the compass with both hands and tried to tear it off. The cord wouldn't snap. He pulled harder. Nothing. He passed it over his head and tried to throw it to the ground, but the compass wouldn't budge. It was as if it had fused to him.
"What kind of magical joke is this?! I can't even take it off! This is spiritual harassment!" he shouted, flailing like he had a cat clinging to his neck.
The old man just watched him with a mix of pity and resignation.
"It has chosen. You won't part from it… unless it allows you to."
Ryo stopped, panting, sweat on his forehead, the compass swinging calmly against his chest as if mocking him.
"Perfect. My only companion in this world is a clingy, cursed compass."
"Fantastic. I'm dead, barefoot, and now cursed with magical jewelry. This just keeps getting better."
That's when a shriek shattered the village's peace. Screams. Then the sound of something dragging along the ground. Ryo turned.
A girl. No older than eight. She was being dragged by something. Something huge. A wolf. A wolf wreathed in blue flames that didn't burn but smoldered silently like living embers.
Ryo froze.
"A girl? In danger? My first day here and I already have to rescue a loli from a legendary Pokemon? This is officially an isekai."
The compass trembled against his chest. Its needle spun, vibrating, until it locked onto the monster. Across the cracked glass, golden words appeared:
"Destination found."
"…Seriously?"
The wolf stopped. Lifted its head. Its eyes—two burning embers—locked onto him.
Ryo took a step back. His legs felt like jelly. The compass glowed. So did his chest. But not from courage. From pure panic.
"My destiny is to die again to a flaming wolf? No sword to defend myself? Not even a stick?"
The monster roared. And then, as if the universe were laughing in his face, the compass lit up with a deep, bright blue. A low, resonant sound echoed inside him, like someone ringing a bell beneath his sternum.
And for one second, everything turned to light.
End of Prologue