The asphalt was cold, and the screech of tires was the last thing Sol heard in his first life.
He didn't scream. He didn't even have time to feel brave. He just saw the kid, felt the weight of his own body lunge forward, and then—crunch.
Rationality told him he was dead. The darkness confirmed it.
Then came the neon.
Night City didn't care about a seventeen-year-old from another world. Sol had spent what felt like years in that chrome-infested hellscape. He had survived the path David Martinez couldn't. He'd integrated the Sandevistan—a military-grade spine of high-speed hardware—and he'd learned to live with the twitch in his nerves and the constant, buzzing pressure behind his eyes.
He had become a ghost in the wires, a rational mind in a city of psychos. But the debt always came due.
Sol stood on the edge of a rain-slicked rooftop, the Arasaka towers looming like gravestones. His breath hitched. His nervous system was frying. MaxTac was closing in. He reached for the neural link, his fingers hovering over the activation for the Sandevistan one last time. He was calm. He was tired. He had accepted death once; he could do it again.
"Focus, Sol," he whispered to himself, the sarcasm dry even in his final moments. "Try not to make a mess."
He triggered the implant. The world slowed to a crawl. The raindrops froze in mid-air like diamonds. He stepped off the ledge, preparing to move faster than god intended—
But the world didn't just slow down. It broke.
The neon blues and reds of Night City bled into a blinding, celestial white. The roar of the city fell into a vacuum of absolute silence.
Re:Zero - Starting Life in Another World
The transition was instantaneous.
The smell of ozone and burnt copper was replaced by the scent of hay, dry earth, and... apples?
Sol blinked. The blinding light receded, replaced by the harsh, natural glare of a midday sun. His vision adjusted, scanning for threats automatically. His hand hovered near the small of his back where his hardware was housed, his heart rate spiking before his analytical mind forced it back down.
Directly beside him, a boy about his age was currently experiencing a much more vocal existential crisis. The boy wore a black, white, and orange tracksuit, clutching a convenience store plastic bag like it was a holy relic.
"What's going on...?" the boy muttered, his eyes wide as he spun around.
Sol took a slow, deep breath. He checked his internal HUD—or what was left of it. The Sandevistan was still there, a heavy, familiar weight against his spine. He felt the phantom itch of the chrome. He was wearing his Night City gear: a dark, reinforced tactical jacket over a simple shirt and dark pants. Out of place, but functional.
He looked around. This wasn't Night City. There were no flying cars, no holographic advertisements for real-water. Instead, there were horse-drawn carriages—except the horses had scales and horns. The buildings were made of stone and wood, reminiscent of a medieval fantasy world.
The boy in the tracksuit was vibrating with a mix of terror and bizarre excitement.
"Is this... could it be...?" the boy gasped, looking at his hands. "Summoned to another world?!"
Sol exhaled slowly, his face settling into a mask of calm, though his mind was already categorizing every exit, every potential weapon, and every person in the crowd. He looked at the boy—this 'Subaru'—and then at the lizard-drawn carriage passing by.
The boy struck a dramatic pose, pointing at the sky. "It is! It's the 'summoned to a fantasy world' trope! Yes! My time has finally come!"
Sol watched him for a beat, his expression deadpan. He felt the lingering trauma of the Arasaka towers fading, replaced by the sheer absurdity of the present moment. He looked at his own hand, then back at the frantic teenager in the tracksuit.
Sol tilted his head, a single word escaping his lips as he took in the impossible reality of the marketplace.
"Eh?"