In the year 2800 of the Midgard calendar, the world was on the brink of chaos. The once-feared Overlord, Amane Bakura, had been defeated by the Heroes of old, and her empire crumbled into dust. But fate, it seemed, had other plans. A young protagonist, once a mere player of a game set in this world, found himself inexplicably transported into the body of Amane Bakura, 200 years after her supposed downfall. As he opened his eyes, he was met with the unfamiliar sight of a world that had moved on without its former ruler. Yet, the air was thick with the weight of her legacy, and the people of this new era whispered tales of the Black-Winged Overlord as if she were a ghostly omen. The protagonist, now in Amane's body, could only smile wryly at the absurdity of it all. Little did he know, his cheerful demeanor would soon set the world ablaze once more.
"This is... weird," he muttered, examining his-no, her-delicate hands. Power coursed through her veins, unlike anything he'd felt before. It was as if reality itself bent to her will.
Even in this unfamiliar body, he could sense something extraordinary. The game had never hinted that Amane's powers transcended normal limitations. With just a thought, he could feel the fabric of space-time ripple around her. Dimensions seemed like mere suggestions rather than rules.
"Was she always this strong?" he wondered, casually floating a few inches off the ground without even trying.
A bird chirped nearby, and he instinctively reached out. The creature froze mid-flight, caught in what seemed like a pocket dimension.
"Oops," he laughed, releasing the bird. "Guess I need to be careful."
He had no idea that across the continent, seers and mages were already waking from nightmares, feeling the impossible return of a power that existed beyond the concepts of their reality.
As he admired his newfound abilities, the air suddenly cracked open. Two towering silhouettes emerged, their forms constantly shifting in ways that hurt to look at.
"Well, well," a voice boomed from everywhere and nowhere. "The little overlord awakens."
These weren't ordinary beings. The protagonist could feel it - they existed beyond the fabric of reality itself. Outer Gods.
"Um, hi there?" he said with an awkward wave. "I'm new here, so if you're looking for the old Amane, there's been a mix-up."
The beings laughed, a sound that shattered six dimensional pockets nearby like glass.
"Your realm is merely a shadow of shadows to us," the second entity pulsed. "We exist beyond your comprehension."
The protagonist scratched his head. "Look, I just woke up as a girl with weird powers. Can we maybe do this another day?"
The first God stretched a limb that seemed to fold through impossible angles. "Your predecessor understood our nature. We exist not above you by measure, but by quality of being."
"That's... nice?" the protagonist replied, feeling strangely calm despite everything. "But I really should figure out breakfast first."
The Gods seemed taken aback by this casual response. They had expected fear, or at least proper reverence.
"You dare dismiss us?" they roared, their fury collapsing several layers of reality.
The protagonist shrugged. "Not dismissing. Just prioritizing. Food first, existential threat second."
Without thinking, he flicked his wrist, and to his surprise, both entities were pushed back into their tear in reality.
"Huh," he mumbled, looking at his hand. "That was easier than the game's final boss."
As the dimensional rift sealed itself, he couldn't help but wonder what else Amane could do.