When Kenta opened his eyes, he wasn't in the office.
He wasn't even on Earth.
He was lying on a glowing platform inside a massive circular chamber, surrounded by sleek metal walls, floating blue lights, and softly humming machines. A translucent screen hovered above him, reading:
Subject 2273: Rebirth Sequence Complete. Neural sync: 100%.
Welcome aboard: S.S. Paradox Dawn
He sat up, groggy and disoriented. "What the hell did I finally fall asleep and hit my head on my keyboard? Is this a coma dream?"
The door hissed open.
And in walked her.
She was tall, with long lavender hair that shimmered like silk in zero gravity. Her silver bodysuit left little to the imagination, especially around the chest, which was the exact opposite of subtle.
Her eyes scanned him with curiosity and mild amusement. "Oh good, you're awake. You were out longer than expected. Neural uploads can be... jarring. I'm Commander Lyra Velantris."
He blinked. "Commander? Upload? Jarring? …Boobs?"
She smirked. "Cute. You'll fit right in."
Kenta scrambled to his feet. "Wait, wait, wait. Am I dead?"
Lyra crossed her arms, pressing her impressive assets even further together, which did not help his brain catch up. "In your old world? Yes. Heart attack. Died face-down in front of your screen. The medics didn't find you until morning."
Kenta blinked. "...I knew that spreadsheet was cursed."
"You've been selected for Project Exodus: elite individuals reincarnated into enhanced bodies aboard our starship to help reclaim lost galactic territories. Congratulations. You're no longer a corporate slave. You're now a starborn."
"…What's the catch?"
She smiled, sharp and dangerous. "Oh, you'll find out soon. For now, we need every hand we can get. We're under attack."
A siren wailed in the distance.
"Great," Kenta muttered. "Five minutes in space and I already miss unpaid overtime."
Lyra tossed him a sleek sidearm and turned on her heel. "Come on, newbie. Welcome to the real adventure."
As the ship shook with distant explosions and another door slid open to reveal a squad of armored aliens.
The hallway beyond the sliding door looked like a scene from a high-budget space opera: flashing red lights, armored marines sprinting past with plasma rifles, and walls that shook with each distant impact. Kenta stumbled behind Lyra, still gripping the sleek alien pistol she'd tossed him like it was a suspicious USB stick.
"Uh, just so we're clear," he panted, dodging a dangling wire, "I have no idea how to shoot this thing."
Lyra didn't slow. "Point and click."
"I was a clicker! I clicked a thousand cells a day! I didn't think it'd translate to actual combat!"
She spun around a corner, graceful and lethal. "Consider this your onboarding."
As if summoned by narrative timing, the corridor up ahead exploded in a spray of sparks and shrieking metal. Three insectoid creatures emerged, they were taller than a man, with segmented armor, glowing orange eyes, and mandibles that dripped a nasty green goo.
Kenta froze. "NOPE. NOPE-NOPE-NOPE."
Lyra raised her rifle and dropped the first two in seconds with clean headshots that sent ichor splattering against the bulkhead. The third lunged.
She ducked.
Kenta screamed.
The gun in his hand lit up.
A wild plasma bolt shot out, smacked the creature square in the chest, and sent it crumpling to the floor in a smoking heap.
He blinked.
Lyra looked over her shoulder, mildly impressed. "See? Instinct."
Kenta stared at the smoking gun. "I peaked in my first five minutes. It's all downhill from here."
Minutes later, the firefight had quieted. They ducked into a sealed room marked ENGINEERING BAY – AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY.
Inside was chaos: sparks rained from the ceiling, diagnostic screens flickered, and a young woman stood in the center of it all, shouting into a headset while elbow-deep in a sparking engine conduit. She wore a soot-smeared tank top and toolbelt, and her short bob of silver hair had clearly seen better days.
"Oh great," she snapped, glancing over as Lyra entered. "You bring me a new meatshield instead of a fuse? We're ten seconds from losing life support on Deck 5!"
"Kenta," Lyra said, ignoring the attitude, "meet Chief Engineer Iris Voss. She's the reason this ship hasn't exploded. Yet."
Iris looked him up and down with clear disdain. "Did you pull him out of a cryo-clown tank?"
"I died from office stress," Kenta offered helpfully. "Which I feel is relevant."
She blinked. "...God. They're sending us white-collar reincarnates now? We're doomed."
Before Kenta could respond, Iris slammed a button and the room hissed as gravity wobbled, then stabilized.
"Cool," he muttered. "Did the ship just burp?"
"That was me manually resetting the internal grav-core using a screwdriver and spite," she said, wiping her brow. "So unless you can weld a bypass with a paperclip and optimism, stay out of my way."
Lyra stepped in. "We're headed to the bridge. Any word on the attackers?"
"Yeah," Iris said, pulling up a display. It showed a swirling black mass on the edge of the ship's radar. "Voidspawn. They're not raiding. They're probing. Someone wants us gone."
Kenta narrowed his eyes. "What are they after?"
Lyra looked at him for a beat. "You."
He froze. "...I beg your pardon?"
"You're carrying something. Or rather, something inside you woke up when you were transferred here. We don't know what yet. But the Voidspawn? They're drawn to it."
Kenta sat down slowly, eyes wide. "I was a budget analyst. Why is my soul haunted by space demons?"
No one had a good answer.
Later, as they rode a lift toward the ship's command bridge, Lyra finally said, "You weren't randomly chosen. Your soul compatibility is... rare. There are others like you, scattered across the galaxy."
"Others?" Kenta asked.
"Other reincarnates," she nodded. "Some are allies. Some... aren't."
The lift doors opened.
Beyond them stretched the Paradox Dawn's bridge: panoramic starscape windows, holographic maps, and a tall captain's chair that looked too grand for anyone to actually sit in.
"Your new life starts here, Kenta," Lyra said, stepping forward.
Iris, already clanking with her tools, glanced back. "Don't get cocky. If the Voidspawn breach the core again, I'm using you as bait."
Kenta sighed. "Space is just a bigger office. Except now the printers bite back."
Kenta wasn't used to attention.
Back on Earth, the most anyone noticed him was when he accidentally microwaved fish in the office breakroom. But here? Aboard the Paradox Dawn? Everyone knew his name.
He was the "new starborn" the reincarnate with a mysterious power signature. Which sounded cool until you realized he had no clue what he was doing and kept getting lost looking for the bathroom.
At least the food was decent.
"Kenta, you're late again," Commander Lyra sighed as he finally stumbled onto the bridge. "That's the third time this cycle."
"In my defense," he said, catching his breath, "the hallways are very symmetrical. I walked into a closet labeled 'gravity recompiler' and nearly floated into the ceiling."
"You were supposed to meet our head pilot an hour ago," she said, turning away. "She's waiting in Bay 7."
Kenta groaned. "Do all space adventures come with passive-aggressive scheduling?"
Lyra just smiled. "Wait until you see her."
Bay 7 was less a hangar and more a cathedral of chrome and thrusters. Rows of fighter ships lined the deck, their engines purring like beasts waiting to be unleashed.
Standing on top of one of them, welding something with one hand while holding a half-eaten snack in the other, was a girl.
Well, technically a woman but one with twitching, triangular ears on top of her head and a long, swishing tail behind her. Her short leather jacket was half-zipped, exposing a toned stomach and a glimpse of something dangerously distracting.
"Yo!" she called, spotting him. "You the reincarnated guy who fried a bug with one lucky shot and then passed out from adrenaline?"
Kenta blinked. "...You've heard of me?"
"Iris sent me the footage. I've seen corgis with better tactical instinct." She dropped down from the ship in a single, nimble flip, tail curling lazily behind her. "I'm Nova."
She stuck out a grease-stained hand.
He shook it carefully. "And, uh… are the ears real?"
Nova grinned and gave one a flick. "Born with 'em. Hybrid splicer. Long story. Try petting them and I'll break your fingers."
"Noted."
She gave him a once-over, eyebrow raised. "So you're the guy with mystery powers, a soul beacon that attracts interdimensional monsters, and the survival instincts of a toaster."
"I was very good at Excel."
"You're gonna die so fast."
"Yeah, that's the vibe I've been getting."
She took him up in one of the light cruisers for a flight test.
Kenta had assumed space flight would be smooth and serene.
Nova's style was more "pod racer with a death wish."
They soared through asteroid debris, barrel-rolled past laser satellites, and at one point she did a corkscrew maneuver just to "see if you puke in zero-G."
Kenta didn't puke. He screamed.
Which earned him a grudging nod of respect.
"You're not totally useless," Nova said, grinning. "You might actually survive long enough to be interesting."
"Was that… a compliment?"
"I mean, I've got a thing for hopeless guys who scream a lot."
"...I suddenly feel both flattered and endangered."
Back on the ship, Lyra met them in the war room. Iris was already there, arms crossed, face scowling as usual.
"We picked up a signal during the Voidspawn attack," Lyra said, bringing up a star chart. "It's a distress call. Ancient code. Pre-Union tech. From a derelict station on the edge of the Nebula Rift."
Kenta looked at the blinking dot. "You think it's another reincarnate?"
"Possibly," she said. "Or bait. Either way, we're going."
"Cool," Kenta muttered. "Field trip to a haunted space ruin. Can't wait."
Iris rolled her eyes. "Hope you remembered to pack your diapers."
Lyra ignored them. "Nova, you'll pilot. Kenta, you're on the away team."
"Wait, me?" he asked, pointing to himself. "I've been alive for three days!"
"Plenty of time," Lyra said. "And we need someone whose presence will trigger whatever's hiding there. Whatever power is inside you, something is trying to reach it."
Nova gave him a playful elbow. "Look on the bright side. Worst case, you die and we just upload your brain to a toaster."
"I want that on my grave."
As the ship prepped for launch, Kenta sat alone in his quarters, staring at his reflection.
A glowing glyph had started forming on his chest, an alien sigil that pulsed with each heartbeat.
Something was awakening.
Something watching.
And as the Paradox Dawn drifted toward the edge of known space, Kenta realized his boring, spreadsheet-bound life was long gone.