He sat there alone in his hospital chamber, looking through the window.
The view was hypnotizing, he didn't know how long he had been awake, as he was more than confused when he awoke.
He remembered, in another life, he had been a middle-aged man, a college teacher in France, navigating the intricacies of academia with a detached sense of duty.
The walls of the lecture hall had become a second skin, yet the passion he once held for education had faded into a dull routine.
His view of his students changed more than anything, where before he was eager to answer questions, to make sure everyone understood everything, the more years passed by the less he paid attention to it.
Forgetting the name of the students he stayed hours with to review everything before the exams. New students became faceless, sentientless objects he talked to for a paycheck.
He taught subjects he had long since lost interest in, primarily because the paycheck was respectable, enough to keep the bills paid and the wine flowing.
The thought of leaving felt foolish; he had built a life around the security that came with a steady income, a life that seemed to promise stability and comfort.
Yet, deep down, a flicker of ambition stirred within him, a longing that had been stifled for years, buried beneath layers of practicality and societal expectation.
He dreamed of opening his own business, of breaking free from the monotonous grind to pursue a venture that reflected the passions he had buried in the recesses of his mind since childhood.
But that dream remained just that—a dream—faded and out of reach as he continued to play the role the world expected of him. In conversations, he had mastered the art of empathy, skillfully navigating dialogues with a blend of charm and wit.
He knew how to read people, to discern their desires, and to mold his responses accordingly. It was a script he had perfected, responding to the cues of others while suppressing his own voice.
He had convinced himself that being agreeable was a virtue, that catering to the needs and expectations of others was a form of kindness. But it was a facade, a carefully constructed mask that left him feeling hollow.
He remembered dying—being swallowed by darkness, in a state where time held no dominion, an eternity in an overwhelming state indescribable by words.
The time spent in the liminal space between life and death had stripped away that mask, revealing the truth beneath. In the darkness, he confronted the reality of his choices, the moments he had let slip away while he played the part of the accommodating teacher, the reliable friend.
The silence of that place forced him to reflect on the life he had lived—the opportunities he had missed, the desires he had ignored. It was a harsh awakening, a realization that he had been living for others, not for himself.
He had taken the safe path, avoiding the risks that came with pursuing his true passions, and in doing so, he had sacrificed his own happiness.
However, he was here in his bed in the body of a 14-year-old boy, not knowing anything of what brought him here.
Having been deprived of touch for so long, awakening brought an overwhelming sensation.
Every nuance of his surroundings struck him sharply, he felt the caress of the wind even within the closed room, the fabric of his clothes brushing against his skin, the comforting weight of the blanket, and an array of inexplicable sensations both foreign and familiar.
An invisible fog enveloped him, and deep within himself, he sensed something indescribable stirring.
Yet instinctively, he knew some things, like where he was.
He was now part of the DxD universe. A shitty ecchi light novel that he couldn't read because the main character was unlikable in his opinion.
But more importantly, a world where gods exist, devils roam earth, yokai govern a part of Japan and dragons had centuries lasting dick measuring contests.
He could live a normal life here. Blend in. Avoid the supernatural entirely. Plenty of humans in this world did just that.
But the thought felt... wrong.
In his previous life, he had chosen safety. Stability. And what had it gotten him? A hollow existence
No. Not again.
This time, he would take the risks.
He'll thrive.
"Fuck it, we ball."
————————————————————
It was a calculated risk, but boy was he bad at math.
What was he thinking when he decided that running away from a hospital with only some clothes he found in drawers was a great idea?
Oh yes, something along the lines of 'I don't want to deal with police or all the amnesia bullshit.'
But now that he was alone in the French countryside, he was starting to doubt his decisions.
However, he didn't regret anything thanks to the feeling of running, the wind in his hair and skin, the burning in his chest, and the wariness in his calves.
He felt alive, and it was exhilarating.
Now that he was here, he couldn't just go back to the hospital telling them that he just wanted to jog.
He needed to start planning how he would live in this universe and integrate into the supernatural world.
With each stride and breath he took, he felt the energy around him. When he breathed, he took it in himself, connecting inside and outside energy.
It felt like this routine was strengthening the energy inside him.
It was probably his Qi or Chi. His life energy, the energy he produced by being alive. If he remembered correctly, in the DxD universe, it was called Touki.
He tried to feel it, to touch it, to gauge it. It felt gaseous inside of him. It wasn't specifically in a part of him, it was spreading in all of his body.
He tried to make it move in some specific parts of his body. It felt almost like pushing against the door of a cartoon bank vault. Not impossible but almost.
He could feel the effect, though. With each stride, he felt faster. Stronger. His body felt lighter.
Or was he just imagining things?
Given everything that had happened today it wasn't that hard to believe. It was his first steps in the magical world.
He needed to gather more information about the supernatural universe. He couldn't rely on some memory of a light novel he just skimmed briefly.
He had a phone in his jacket but didn't know the password. He faced the choice of rebooting it to factory settings and losing every chance to learn anything about this body's life or trying to find information about the supernatural universe in a library.
He didn't hesitate much. He didn't remember anything of this body and didn't care much about it.
He started skimming the internet in search of some keywords, like sacred gear or touki.
Margetud: Hey there! I saw your messages. So, you're new to our little world? What can I help you with?
He jumped pumping his fists. He had his responses.
After hours of scouring the web, he stumbled upon a young witch's blog. He sent his message like a message in a bottle cast into the sea, hoping for a response.
He quickly found a username to answer before she left.
Fervent Atheist: Thanks for getting back to me! I'm totally lost in this shit. But my biggest question is, where the hell can I find info about the supernatural?
After all this time in the void, speaking to someone felt strange—almost foreign. Awkward, like when he was a teenager.
He snorted. Fitting. He looked like a teenager again and had the social skills of one too.
Margetud: I'm guessing you're a regular human without any supernatural lineage, right? That means you have two options to join the supernatural world: you can either join a magician faction or a martial one.
Fervent Atheist: How the hell do I figure out what I'm good at? And how do I find a faction? Is there some crazy supernatural version of the internet? A job center for all this magical nonsense?
Margetud: Lmfao the internet one exists, it's called Devil Net, I can send you the files to download it on a regular device. As for finding your specialization, you'll need to experiment a bit. Once you download Devil Net, you should be able to find some basic magic to try.
He exhaled, tension he didn't realize he was holding draining away. For the first time since waking up in this bizarre world, he had a plan. Or at least the beginnings of one.
Margethud saved his ass. Now he could breathe freely and start trying to know her.
Fervent Atheist: I really appreciate your help; I'm completely out of my depth here. I was thinking about hitting up a library to find something useful, but you've saved my ass.
Margetud: No worries! Helping you keeps me entertained, and it's nice to be useful.
Fervent Atheist: If you don't mind me asking, what the hell are you doing with your life? Is there some kind of magical government? Are you the damn magical president?
Margetud: Lmfao nothing so glamorous, I'm just a magic archivist, cataloging artifacts. Not quite the magical president, but I'll take it!
Artefacts? She's trusted to manipulate artifacts? Tools that could make a peasant a king?
He needs to join a group.
Fervent Atheist: Damn. It's half fucking interesting and half making me wanting to kms. Are you at least paid enough ?
Margetud: LOL yeah I'm paid enough to live but it's barely enough to experiment or do research. Buy you who's judging what are you doing of your life?
What should he say… Why would he lie?
What was the point to lie?
Fervent Atheist: Pretty lie or truth ?
Margethud: I'll regret it ain't I ? Truth…
Fervent Atheist: I'm a French orphan runaway survivor of a cosmic horror. ANYWAY, what's your field of experimentation?
Margethud: Oh HELL NO ! You're FRENCH ?? Please tell me you're lying.
'See, there's no point in lying. In a world of gods and magic, cosmic horror and reincarnation seems mundane.'
Fervent Anarchist: Please… Tell me you're not a Brit… I'M BEGGING !
Margetud: …And if I am?
Fervent Atheist: Then we're going to have problems, Crumpet Queen.
Margetud: Oh, please. Coming from a Frenchman? You don't even know how to win a war without help.
Fervent Atheist: Wow. That's rich, coming from the country that calls beans on toast a national delicacy.
Margethud: And yet, your country somehow produces the wildest supernatural mercenaries. Seriously, what kind of cringy name is Road Gods?
He didn't understand a word of this sentence.
Fervent Atheist: The what?
Margethud: Your country of savage own the biggest hired gun company of the world. Those chuuni ass named themselves Road Gods. How the hell do you not know them?
He found that kinda cool.
'What's the problem with the name?'
Fervent Atheist: Wasn't aware of the existence of goddamn supernatural yellow pages.
Margetud: … Anyway, I'm sending you the Devil Net files now.
Fervent Atheist: Sure thing, Crumpet Queen.
Margetud: Ugh. I regret everything.