I wake to the smell of damp earth and pine.
Cold seeps through my back as I lie staring up at a canopy of towering trees, their branches tangled like claws against the sky. For a few seconds, I can only breathe—sharp, panicked gulps—trying to remember how I got here.
I don't.
That alone tells me something is wrong.
I scramble to my feet, boots crunching against leaves that feel far too real beneath my soles. My heart pounds as I turn in a slow circle. A forest. Endless, ancient, and quiet in a way that makes my skin crawl. No roads. No buildings. No sign of civilization.
Then it appears.
A translucent panel of pale blue light snaps into existence in front of my face.
[SYSTEM INITIALIZATION COMPLETE]
World Identified: Demon Slayer (Kimetsu no Yaiba)
My breath catches.
"…You've got to be kidding me."
Another line of text scrolls into view.
Complete quests and assignments to gain abilities, items, and growth.
Starter Pack available.
Would you like to open it?
My hands tremble as I stare at the final line. This isn't a dream. Dreams don't come with interfaces. They don't smell like wet soil or make your legs ache when you stand too fast.
"Yes," I say, my voice hoarse. "Open it."
The panel flashes.
Starter Pack Opening…
Reward: Random Character Powers, Abilities, and Memories
The air in front of me distorts, warping like heat rising from a flame. A massive wheel materializes, spinning slowly at first before accelerating into a blur of color and names.
My stomach drops.
Characters flash past—too fast to properly read, but recognizable all the same.
Pirates with impossible grins. Shinobi wreathed in chakra. Sorcerers, gods, monsters.
One Piece.
Naruto.
So many worlds.
"So this is how it works," I mutter. "A gamble."
My fists clench at my sides.
This could be incredible… or it could be a death sentence.
I could land someone absurdly powerful—someone who could walk through demons like smoke through air. Someone like the Scarlet Witch, and this world wouldn't stand a chance against me.
Or…
I could get something worthless. Some nameless goblin. A background character whose greatest achievement was dying off-screen.
In a world where demons tear humans apart for sport, weakness isn't just inconvenient.
It's fatal.
The wheel slows.
My pulse roars in my ears as names become readable.
Past Naruto.
Past Luffy.
Past characters whose power makes my breath hitch—only to slip away at the last second.
"Come on…"
The wheel jerks once.
Twice.
And then it stops.
The name burns itself into my vision.
Tom Riddle / Lord Voldemort
The world explodes.
Pain—white-hot and endless—rips through my skull as something ancient and vast crashes into me. I scream, dropping to my knees, fingers digging into the dirt as my mind is torn open.
Memories flood in.
Not flashes.
Lives.
Seventy-one years slam into my consciousness all at once.
A cold orphanage. Hunger. Fear. The realization that I am different—that the world bends when I demand it to.
Hogwarts. Candlelit halls. Whispers of brilliance and terror. Magic flowing through my veins like a second heartbeat.
Dark Arts studied in secret. Charms perfected beyond what teachers believe possible. Transfiguration mastered with cruel precision.
Travels across the world. Forbidden libraries. Rituals carved into flesh and soul. Necromancy. Blood magic. Knowledge stolen from things that should not exist.
Horcruxes.
The tearing of the soul.
The ecstasy of power—and the cost.
The Death Eaters.
Dumbledore.
War.
Failure.
Death.
Not once.
But again.
A bodiless existence. Rage. Hunger. Clinging to life like a parasite.
Quirinus Quirrell. The Philosopher's Stone. A boy who should have been nothing—and wasn't.
Resurrection.
Twin cores.
The Ministry of Magic in flames.
Dumbledore falling from the tower.
The Elder Wand.
And finally—
Betrayal.
Death.
My scream turns into a ragged gasp as the torrent slows, then stops.
I collapse forward, palms pressed to the ground, breath shuddering out of me.
For a moment, I don't know who I am.
The memories don't feel foreign anymore.
They are me.
Not all at once—but enough that the line between my past life and his has blurred into something dangerous. I remember the orphanage like I lived there. Hogwarts feels familiar. Magic isn't an abstract idea—it's instinct.
I laugh softly, the sound shaky and unsteady.
"…So that's how it is."
Power hums beneath my skin. Not like breathing techniques. Not like swords.
Magic.
Ancient. Flexible. Terrifying.
I can feel it—charms, curses, transfiguration, rituals, necromancy—layered into my mind like an impossibly detailed spellbook. Knowledge earned through obsession and cruelty now sits quietly, waiting for my will.
Something heavy settles into my right hand.
I look down.
A wand rests in my grip—dark, elegant, unmistakable.
The Elder Wand.
Its presence feels… eager.
Alive.
I tighten my fingers around it and slowly push myself to my feet. The forest hasn't changed—but I have.
Demons stalk this world.
Hashira rule it.
Breathing techniques define strength.
I exhale, magic responding like a faithful servant.
"…Let's see how swords and demons handle a Dark Lord."
The system panel flickers back into existence.
[Starter Pack Complete]
And somewhere deep within the forest, something ancient stirs—
—as if the world itself has noticed me.