In the dim glow of his cluttered apartment, Isaac lounged in his worn-out gaming chair, the hum of his computer fan the only sound breaking the silence of the late evening. At 25 years old, he was the epitome of a modern recluse—surviving on freelance coding gigs, instant ramen, and an endless binge of anime, manga, and light novels. His room was a chaotic shrine to his obsessions: posters of epic battles from various series plastered the walls, stacks of manga volumes teetered precariously on his desk, and his screen displayed the paused menu of his latest RPG grind. He had just settled in for what he hoped would be a relaxing night, tissues at the ready for an emotional rewatch of his favorite tearjerker anime film. The world outside his window was a blur of city lights, but inside, he was king of his digital domain.
Suddenly, without warning, a sleek notification window popped up on his screen, overlaying everything else. It wasn't from any app he recognized—no antivirus alert, no system update. It was stark, almost ethereal, with glowing text that seemed to pulse faintly.
'Would you like to join the greatest RPG adventure game in existence? [YES] [NO]'
Isaac blinked, rubbing his eyes as if that might dispel the intrusion. He clicked around the edges, tried alt-tabbing, even hammered the escape key, but the window refused to budge. It locked his entire interface, rendering his mouse useless except for hovering over the two options. Annoyance bubbled up quickly; this was prime downtime, and some malware was ruining it.
"Huh?" he muttered, leaning closer to the screen. "What kind of bullshit is this? If this is a virus, I'm screwed—I just backed up my saves last week."
He hovered over [NO], tempted to smash it and reboot, but curiosity gnawed at him. Isaac had always been a sucker for RPGs, the kind where you built overpowered characters and dominated worlds. What if this was some exclusive beta invite? Or a prank from one of his online buddies? Sighing, he figured there was no harm in playing along. If it was a scam, he'd just run a scan later. With a reluctant click, he selected [YES].
The screen shifted seamlessly, the notification expanding into a character creation interface. It was polished, almost too professional for a pop-up—holographic sliders, detailed previews, and fields that begged for input. The first prompt appeared:
'Please enter your appearance.'
A 3D model rotated in the center, a blank slate waiting to be molded. Isaac smirked, deciding to go all out. Why not craft the ultimate fantasy self? He adjusted the hair to a flowing cascade of silvery-white strands, long and ethereal, catching an imaginary breeze in the preview. For the eyes, he selected a piercing crimson red, sharp and intense, like those of a demon lord from his favorite stories. He tweaked the facial structure for exceptional handsomeness—high cheekbones, a chiseled jaw, symmetrical features that screamed protagonist aura. Tall, lean build with subtle musculature hidden under elegant poise. Satisfied, he hit confirm, watching the model come to life in a dramatic spin.
"Not bad," he chuckled to himself. "If I looked like this in real life, I'd never leave the house for different reasons."
Next came the real fun:
'Please create your power.'
This was where Isaac's inner otaku ignited. His mind raced through countless anime power systems he'd devoured over the years—chakra, cursed energy, ki, you name it. But he wanted something unique, a blend that screamed overpowered yet balanced in a clever way. Drawing from Hunter x Hunter, he focused on Nen as the core: a Specialist type, versatile and rare, allowing him to blend Emission for projecting aura, Enhancement for boosting physical abilities, and Transmutation for altering aura properties into various forms, conjuration for materializing objects, and manipulation for controlling them or others. That would give him flexibility in battles, letting him adapt on the fly.
But he wasn't done. From Jujutsu Kaisen, he layered in Heavenly Restriction—a binding vow that traded away something valuable for immense physical prowess. In this case, he'd exchange any innate magical affinity for god-like strength, speed, and durability, turning him into a melee monster who didn't rely on spells.
The interface accepted his inputs without question, previewing a faint aura around the character model that shifted colors and forms. It looked balanced, broken even. If this was real, he'd be unstoppable.
'Would you like to submit and start the game? [YES] [NO]'
Isaac hesitated for a split second, a twinge of unease creeping in. This felt too immersive for a simple game. But excitement won out—what was the worst that could happen? A crashed PC? He clicked [YES], leaning back with a grin, eager to see what came next.
The screen flickered once, then went black. Completely off. No shutdown sequence, no error message—just dead silence as the fans whirred to a stop.
"Sons of a bitches!" Isaac yelled, slamming his fist on the desk. His heart raced with frustration; had he just fried his rig? He jabbed the power button repeatedly, but nothing happened. Unplugging and replugging did zilch. "Great, just great. Hours of troubleshooting ahead, and my movie night's ruined."
Fuming, he grabbed his jacket and wallet, deciding fresh air might cool him down. "Damn scammer bastards," he grumbled, stomping toward the door. "I better go to the grocery store to buy cigarettes and play the lottery out front. Who knows, maybe I'm lucky today and win enough to buy a new setup."
The night air was crisp as Isaac stepped out of his apartment building, the city bustling around him despite the late hour. Neon signs flickered from nearby shops, and the distant roar of traffic provided a rhythmic backdrop. He lit a cigarette from his dwindling pack, inhaling deeply as he walked the familiar route to the corner store. His mind wandered back to the weird notification—had it been a hallucination from too much screen time? Or some next-level ARG? Either way, it had cost him his evening.
As he crossed the street, lost in thought, a low rumble grew in the distance. At first, he dismissed it as thunder, but it intensified, turning into a deafening whine. Looking up, his eyes widened in horror. A massive airplane—way off course, hurtling toward him at impossible speed, engines screaming as it plummeted out of control. Sirens wailed faintly in the background, but it was too late.
"Fucking Bast—" Isaac started to shout, his voice drowned out by the chaos.
*WHOOSH*
*BOOM*
The impact was instantaneous. The world exploded in a cacophony of metal, fire, and screams. Isaac couldn't even finish his curse as the fuselage slammed into the street, debris flying everywhere. Pain surged through him—brief, overwhelming—then nothingness.
Darkness enveloped him, a void deeper than sleep. Time lost meaning; seconds or eternities passed in the abyss. Whispers echoed faintly—system notifications? Voices from beyond? Then, a pull, like gravity reasserting itself. Sensation returned: cold air on skin, the cry of wind, the distant chime of church bells.
When awareness sharpened, Isaac—or what remained of him—realized he was no longer himself. Tiny limbs flailed weakly, his vision blurry and unfocused. He was an infant, swaddled in a simple cloth, lying on the cold stone steps of what appeared to be a rustic orphanage. Snowflakes dusted the ground, and the air carried the scent of pine and earth. This wasn't his city; this was somewhere else entirely—a quaint village edged by forests, under a sky painted with unfamiliar stars.
Confusion swirled in his nascent mind, but fragments of memory persisted. The "game." The powers. Reincarnation? It hit him like a revelation: this was the RPG. He'd been isekai'd, reborn into a new world. But why as a baby? And where?
Nearby, two other bundles stirred—fellow infants, one with short, messy ash-blond hair and emerald eyes, the other with sleek black hair and amber eyes. They cried softly, their voices mingling with his own instinctive wails.
Footsteps approached, heavy and hurried. A kindly-faced man in priestly robes emerged from the orphanage door, his eyes widening at the sight. Father Orsi Orfai, the caretaker of Hage Village's humble church orphanage, bundled up against the winter chill, knelt down with a gasp.
"By the gods... three little ones, left in the cold? Who could abandon such innocents?" He scooped them up gently, one by one, cradling them against his warm cloak. The first baby, energetic even in infancy, kicked vigorously. "You'll be Asta," Orsi murmured, smiling despite the mystery.
The second, calmer and more composed, elicited a nod. "And you, Yuno."
Finally, he lifted the third, noting the unusual silver hair peeking from the swaddle and the faint, piercing gaze even in those newborn eyes. "Rayleigh."
As Orsi carried the trio inside, the door creaking shut behind him, the first chapter of Rayleigh's new life began. No magic stirred within him—none at all, a void where others might feel a spark. But deep down, in the recesses of his reincarnated soul, the seeds of Nen and Heavenly Restriction waited to awaken. The adventure had only just started, in a world of magic, grimoires, and endless possibilities.