Darkness.
That was the first thing I became aware of. An all-consuming, suffocating void. Not the poetic kind of darkness. Not the dreamy abyss of eternal rest. No. This was... damp. Tight. Viscous. Like floating in warm glue. I could move—sort of—but every twitch of my limbs felt sluggish, disconnected.
Shit.
Was this reincarnation? Was this how it began? Because let me tell you, it felt less like being born anew and more like being stuffed into a wet sock and left to marinate.
I swear to God, if I get isekai'd into some sword-and-slime fantasy world and this is the starting experience, I'm gonna punch whoever's responsible.
But let's back up a bit. Before the glue tank. Before the void.
Before this... new reality, I was Seth. Seth Miller. Thirty years old. Living in London, working as a freelance IT security consultant. Not exactly James Bond, but not your average office drone either. I was good at what I did—brilliant, really—and the best part? Companies paid obscene amounts of money to keep their secrets secret. A few keystrokes here, a little social engineering there, and bam—easy money.
I wasn't a hacker. Not the black-hat kind. More of a digital locksmith with a nice suit and a LinkedIn profile.
Life was... fine. Comfortable. I had my own place, worked remotely half the time, and took jobs when I felt like padding the bank account. No student loans, no debt, no girlfriend, no kids. Just me, a fast laptop, and a habit of ordering sushi at 2 AM while watching Naruto reruns.
Yeah. That Naruto.
I was rewatching the Pain arc the night before I died. Got choked up again when Hinata confessed her love before getting ragdolled by Pain. Then Naruto went six-tails psycho. You know the drill. Good times.
The next morning? I woke up late, cursed the universe, skipped breakfast, and ran down the stairs of my apartment like a man on a mission.
Only problem? One of the stairs had other ideas.
My sock slipped. My foot missed. And then there was this horrible crack as the back of my head made intimate contact with the corner of the third step.
Everything went black.
I didn't even get a dramatic last thought. No "Oh no, I left the oven on." Just pain—and then silence.
And then?
White. Endless, blinding white.
I remember standing—floating? Existing—in this impossible white nothing. There were no walls, no sky, no ground. Just infinity in all directions. I thought I'd gone mad until a presence made itself known.
I say "presence" because I couldn't see it. Couldn't hear it. But I knew it was there. I felt it, like a whisper behind my thoughts.
"Seth Miller," it said—or thought—into me.
I flinched. "Uh... yes?"
"You're dead."
Right. That.
"You slipped on the top step of your apartment complex and hit your head. Fast. Clean. Painless after the first second. Congratulations, you win the award for most underwhelming death of the month."
"...Thanks?"
"Let me take a quick look. Hmmm. Average life. Didn't kill anyone. Paid taxes. Didn't drown kittens. Mild addiction to internet forums. Oh wait—what's this? You once pulled a baby stroller with twins out of the way of a speeding car."
"Yeah. That was instinct, really."
"Two lives saved. That gives you... two Karma perks."
I blinked. "Two what now?"
"Karma perks. Tiny blessings you've earned for your next life."
"Next life?"
"All souls reincarnate. You're no different. With your two perks, you have a choice: select two minor bonuses, or spin the Wheel of Perks for a chance at something... more interesting."
My head tilted. "What kind of minor bonuses?"
"Enhanced memory. Faster reaction time. Charisma boost. That sort of thing."
"Okay, then—I want to keep my memories, and I want to spin the wheel."
There was silence. Then a sense of amused approval.
"Bold. Very well. One memory retention, one spin. Spinning now."
And suddenly, in the distance—or inside me?—I saw it.
A colossal wheel, bigger than planets, spinning in the void. Each wedge bore names that made my brain itch:
Gum-Gum Fruit. Magical Core. Absolute Elemental Mastery. Genius-Level Intellect. Sharingan. Bio-Interface Seed. Gamer System. Time Dilation.
The wheel slowed.
Slower.
Slower.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
Then it stopped.
Otsutsuki Chakra.
My brain froze.
"Wait. Does this mean I'm going to be reborn in Naruto?"
The presence laughed. Or at least, it felt like laughter.
"No. Where—or as what—you reincarnate is completely random. You could end up as a goblin accountant on planet Xenos-9. The only rule is: you will be reborn into a creature with human-like intelligence so your memories aren't wasted."
"Great," I muttered. "So basically, lottery isekai."
"Correct. Good luck, Seth Miller."
And just like that, the bright room vanished—and I found myself here, floating in darkness.
But... shit. Didn't that omniscient whatever-it-was say I'd be reborn? This doesn't feel like being reborn. This feels like being dumped in a slime-covered oubliette with no exit.
Wasn't I supposed to wake up at five years old with flashbacks and an OP talent tree or something? What kind of low-budget isekai bullshit is this?
I kicked out instinctively, frustrated, and that's when it hit me—literally.
The liquid around me shifted. Rushed. The pressure increased. The walls were closing in.
Wait—what? What is happening?
The warmth was draining. My world, already dark, got tighter by the second.
Nope. Nope nope nope. Why is everything pushing?! I didn't sign up for this part!
And then it all began to move.