"I'm dead… does this mean I got three wishes or something?" a young man asked with bright eyes, his gaze fixed on the old man sitting opposite him. The figure before him was clad in golden-blue armor, ornate and imposing, with blood-red pupils split by vertical slits that gave him an inhuman, predatory air.
"I will admit, I killed you, and I will make it up to you. But I have decided to use you to kill two birds with one stone." The old man said with a smile, one that didn't quite reach those unsettling eyes.
"W-what?" The young man blinked, caught off guard. This didn't follow the pattern — not in any of the stories he'd read, not in any of the fantasies he'd imagined about what came after death. There was supposed to be groveling, apologies, maybe a system screen with a cheerful jingle. Not… whatever this was.
"You heard me, you shall be reincarnated into a world of my choice. There are a few things I want you to do there, mainly saving the world." The old man said calmly, his tone as casual as if he were discussing the weather, leaving the young man utterly speechless.
"I don't want responsibilities…" He said in a low voice, almost a mumble, as though hoping the words might slip past unnoticed.
"I know you probably better than you know yourself. You useless waste of a life that you are." The old man's face twisted with sudden rage, the shift so violent and immediate that the young man recoiled as though struck.
The air around them seemed to grow heavier, pressing down on his shoulders, and he could feel it instinctively — this old man was holding himself back. Barely. The restraint was thin, brittle, and one wrong word might shatter it entirely.
"You're lazy, a complete good-for-nothing with absolutely zero motivation in life. So, I will give you a motivation." The old man said angrily, each word landing like a hammer blow, leaving the young man speechless once more. What had he ever done to this old man? Why did he care so much about how one unremarkable soul had spent its time among the living?
"Save the world, and unite the races. Do that, and I will allow you to travel the omniverse without limit. I believe that would do." He said, watching the young man closely. The effect was immediate — the young man froze, his expression shifting from defeated resignation to something dangerously close to hope.
"I can travel the omniverse without limit? Like DC, Marvel, Dragon Ball, and all at will without any trash cooldowns and such?" He asked with a hopeful gaze, practically vibrating with sudden energy.
The old man's body shook — not with excitement, but with barely contained fury. His gaze toward the young man sharpened to a razor's edge, and the young man flinched backward as though a blade had been pressed to his throat.
"Out of all of the mongrels I have seen, by far you stand out as the most mongrel of the mongrels." He said angrily, his voice tight with disgust. But after a long, tense moment, he forced himself to calm down, exhaling slowly through his nose.
"Speak your wishes and desires. I shall grant them. Note that currently I'm in a weakened state, so not everything would be available." He said with crossed arms, his posture stiff and regal despite the admission of vulnerability.
"Okay… can I get a Gate of Babylon that's more powerful than the one shown in the original Fate anime? For example, one capable of truly holding all of the treasures across existences, not limited to a world or race. A truly vast and endless treasury holding anything that can be considered a treasure?" He asked softly, his voice careful now, almost reverent — as if speaking the wish too loudly might cause it to shatter. The old man regarded him with a complex look, something unreadable flickering behind those crimson eyes, though he hid it quickly behind a dismissive snort.
"That can be done, but as things stand, I can't just give you the treasures across existences. That would cause major troubles and would draw many unhappy gods' attention. Instead, I will create an opportunity for you to obtain such a treasury. I will first transmigrate you into two worlds — you would have a limited amount of time to live, so you must act quickly to get your hands on the things needed." He said calmly, and the young man's face twisted with visible unwillingness at the mere concept of effort.
"You mongrel. If you don't want me to throw you into hell, you would remove that look from your face this instant." The old man said angrily, his voice dropping to a dangerous low. The young man immediately straightened his posture, wiping the reluctance from his expression as quickly as it had appeared.
He didn't fully understand why, but something deep inside him — something primal and instinctive — truly feared and respected this old man. It wasn't just the power radiating off of him. It was something older than that. Something woven into the very fabric of his soul.
"The world I want you to go to is called High School DxD, and Bleach. I want you to get your hands on a Sacred Gear and an Asauchi. As these two have limitless potential and growth capability, it means that what you desire is possible. I shall fuse them together. The more powerful and capable the Sacred Gear, and the greater number of Asauchi you bring me, the better. You should also take the time to learn as many things as you can in these worlds before your body gives out and you die." He said calmly, as though he hadn't just laid out a death sentence wrapped in an opportunity.
"Now, state your second wish. I also couldn't help but notice you have not asked for information on the world you're going to. Are you a mongrel that doesn't see the usefulness of knowledge?" The old man asked angrily, narrowing those slit pupils.
"I was going to ask that before making my next wish." The young man lied, and the glare he received in return told him the old man saw through it completely.
"The world is a world of swords and magic. Both warriors and mages use mana. You could say this world is the heart of the omniverse, and because of this, it's extremely dangerous. Unlike other worlds where demons are not the bad guys, in this world, the demons are truly evil and seek the death of the other races. Your goal is to defeat the Demon God, a Peak Outerversal-level being." He said calmly, and the young man's face went completely blank.
"Wouldn't it be better to find someone more suited for the job? I don't know if I can do that…" He said softly, his voice barely above a whisper.
What the hell is Outerversal? First, there was Universal — the baseline, what most people considered the starting point of true infinity. Well, technically the third level of infinity. There was 0D, 1D, 2D, and then 3D, which encompassed the universe itself.
Above that was someone capable of destroying an infinite number of universes — in other words, multiversal+, also known as 4D. Above that were 5D, 6D, 7D, and theoretically, this could continue onward to infinite dimensions. If one could transcend all dimensions entirely, they would finally step into the Outerverse Tier — a realm of power beyond dimensional scaling altogether.
And even then, there was Low Outerversal, Mid Outerversal, and High Outerversal… yeah, he wanted absolutely no part in this and would have been more than happy to let someone else handle it. He had never even heard the term "Peak Outerversal" before. Just what was that? He didn't want to find out.
"Other than you, there would be others. I picked you. Unless you want your soul to be devoured and you to endure eternal suffering at the hands of the demons, I believe you would be more than happy to step forward." He said calmly, and the young man grit his teeth. Every fiber of his being screamed in protest, but after a long, reluctant moment, he sighed — a deep, unwilling exhale that carried the weight of surrender — and nodded, accepting the mission.
"With that, I guess I have to go all out… Can I wish for overpowered bloodlines?" He asked, a flicker of hope crossing his features, but the old man simply shook his head without a word.
"Okay, how about overpowered abilities?" He pressed, leaning forward slightly, only for the old man to shake his head once more, just as silently, just as final.
"Don't forget, anything I give you, the demon can give himself, and better. Pick something with vast potential that you can take and make your own. Be creative, I know you can. Pick something that starts off weak and that can evolve." He said calmly, his tone carrying the weight of someone who had considered this far longer than the young man had been alive. The words settled over the young man like a challenge, and he fell into a deep, contemplative frown, his brow furrowing as he cycled through possibility after possibility in his mind.
"Okay, the first thing that comes to my mind is the Sharingan." He said softly, almost tentatively, testing the waters.
"That I can easily give you, they are not that powerful." The old man said with a light smile — the first genuine one the young man had seen grace that ancient face. The Sharingan was powerful, yes, but in the grand scheme of what lay ahead, it was far from overpowered.
"In that case, I want my Sharingan to be special, and be a fusion of many anime eyes, such as the Six Eyes, Byakugan, and such. That way, when they are not even awakened, they are overpowered." He said softly, his voice quickening with growing excitement as the idea took root in his mind.
"For that, I will need you to run around collecting a few things then." The old man said, and the young man's eye visibly twitched, the corner of his mouth threatening to pull downward into a grimace.
"Is that a problem?" He asked, his crimson gaze sharpening, daring the young man to complain. The young man wisely shook his head, swallowing whatever protest had been building in his throat.
"You want it, I want you to earn it. I want you to collect the blood of a legendary Saiyan, just that, plus the Six Eyes, Sharingan, and the Byakugan could do. I will be able to finish the rest from there, plus it would allow you to collect and learn more things. Again, the more the better." The old man said, his tone leaving no room for negotiation. The young man struggled — visibly, painfully — to keep a straight face, every muscle in his jaw clenching tight, but internally, he wanted to rage. He wanted to scream.
'How the hell am I going to get Broly's bloodline?' The task was insane. Impossible, even. This old man was handing him a suicide mission gift-wrapped as an opportunity and genuinely seemed to believe he could pull it off.
"How do you expect me to get my hands on all of those things?" He asked, his annoyance bleeding plainly through his expression, no longer bothering to fully mask it.
"That would depend on your next wish. I will recommend something that will not need you to run around collecting." The old man said calmly
"Then, can I get an ability that allows me to copy other abilities while instantly mastering said abilities?" He said with narrowed eyes, his mind finally working at full speed — perhaps for the first time in either of his lives.
"Fine, pick the scale at which you want. I will grant that one without having you run around. Just don't overdo it, and know that this skill would never be able to evolve unless you find a way to make it evolve." The old man said, a note of warning threaded carefully through his otherwise indifferent tone.
"I change my mind… i want a fusion of Iishiko and Mahoraga's powers. I would like it if I could turn Iishiko's ability on and off at will." He said almost instantly, the words tumbling out as though he'd had the answer loaded and chambered long before the question was even asked. The old man's frown deepened for a moment, those ancient features creasing as he considered the implications.
"I will grant you Iishiko's ability… as for Mahoraga, for the chance of having Iishiko's ability also improve, why not obtain the ability when you go to JJK? While at it, I can give you the chance to make Iishiko's ability even more powerful by absorbing more things along the way with infinite potential. Like a Saiyan, Sacred Gear, and more." The old man said, and the young man paused, genuinely weighing the offer. After a long moment of deliberation, he nodded in agreement.
"You would have one year for each world. You would take over the body of someone who died, and your body will reshape itself to suit your soul. I will start you off with the weakest world, that being JJK." The old man said, and before the young man could so much as brace himself, the old man snapped his fingers. The sound was deceptively soft, but the effect was immediate and violent.
The young man's body convulsed as Iishiko's power flooded into him, raw and overwhelming, pouring through channels that were never meant to hold such a force. He screamed — a ragged, guttural sound torn from the deepest part of his being — as his very soul was ripped apart and rewritten to contain the ability. But the old man had no patience for his suffering, and with a dismissive wave, he sent the young man away before the scream had even finished echoing through the void.
Then, silence.
The old man stood slowly, the weight of eons evident in the deliberate way he rose, and stared at the empty space where his son had been just moments before. His expression, for the first time, was neither angry nor dismissive. It was something softer.
"My biggest shame, and joy… to think my son would be like this." He said softly, his voice barely above a murmur. What he found most amusing was that even after reincarnating and forgetting everything — every memory, every bond, every trace of who he had once been — his son still dreamed of taking the Gate of Babylon and evolving it. Some things, it seemed, were etched deeper than memory itself.
He sighed, the sound heavy and ancient, before turning away to begin preparations for the fusions. All of existence was going to be heavily reliant on the heroes the gods would send out… and his son, whether the boy knew it or not, was at the very center of it all.