This fic won't have any Chinese cringe in it because, for a change, I decided to translate a fanfic written by a Japanese author!
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The end comes unexpectedly soon.
Yes, I am now facing death.
I don't clearly remember how I died. I couldn't perceive it. It was too monotonous and sudden.
I had no particularly outstanding abilities, nor any particularly outstanding character.
Perhaps because I was just another insignificant nobody who would be scorned as one of the countless "ordinary people."
Or perhaps—maybe—
My soul had become too rusted by an utterly unchanging, mundane life.
I even feel somehow detached, as if this were happening to someone else.
Is "worthless" a word that exists just for me?
—Ah
Why do I feel regret?
Do I want to live? No, I have no such attachment left.
I never had a family, just lived going with the flow. No one would mourn me.
Why do I feel frustrated?
I had nothing to aim for. Nothing to aspire to, I lived aimlessly. That's why emptiness and nihility filled my heart.
Yes, let me close my eyes. That's good, that's fine.
If I close my eyes... it will all end.
—The moment peaceful sleep begins to lower my eyelids.
Something throbs with a thump.
At the same time, something like pain wells up in my chest where cold winds rage.
—Why am I filled with regret?
Regret? That's contradictory, contradictory.
I've done nothing. I've achieved nothing. What basis do I have to define regret?
While enveloped in death's peace, I turn over the faint thoughts that remain.
What regret? I've accomplished nothing.
I've done nothing. I had no passionate hobbies, nothing.
Soon, like divine revelation or great enlightenment, I realize:
—I couldn't do anything. That's what I regret.
I lived, but couldn't build anything up.
I couldn't leave behind anything to be remembered by.
I had no "traces" in the world that I could proudly point to.
—I will disappear.
Without being anyone, my existence will vanish.
That fact feels unbearably frustrating.
Ah, what a thing. To establish my own meaning only after letting go of life—how foolish was I?
—I can't die.
I don't want to die, I can't die yet.
What selfish talk. To realize my own desires only after giving up this one life.
Yes. I can't die yet.
I can't die, I don't want to die. I don't want to die like this.
This body has achieved nothing.
This soul has burned nothing.
A fire lights in the smoldering core.
Yes, I can't die yet.
At least—before disappearing—at least...
If I don't accomplish something, what was the point of living...!
"What pathetically thin self-awareness. To establish your ego only after dying, of all things."
—!?
My eyes widen at the resonating voice. I can't see anyone. The voice just echoes from somewhere.
"You could have avoided unnecessary suffering by simply rotting away. Humans really are an unmanageable species."
Arrogant words. As if spoken from a height that overlooks and looks down on everything.
"—Who are you?"
"Hmm? Ah... I'm nobody in particular."
Nobody? The owner of a voice with such overwhelming presence?
Whether modesty or self-mockery, the echoing voice continues speaking.
"I am... how should I put it. A scoundrel who toys with souls like yours."
"...What's that supposed to mean?"
"Exactly what I said. I'm basically a troublesome being starved for entertainment. That's all."
The words lack warmth. They sound arrogant but have no inflection, like a mechanical broadcast.
"Well, never mind about me. The problem is you. Your dying lament drew me here."
"I did?"
"Yes, that regret and lament of yours summoned me from my bored slumber and woke me up. How troublesome."
I feel somewhat ashamed. Not passionate roars or devout faith, but such dark emotions summoned this invisible being. I feel sorry toward this unknown entity.
"I'm sorry."
"Don't worry about it. That kind of trouble comes with everyone except one person. Though it seems rather late."
"I apologize."
"It's fine. ...Now, to the main point—you have met death, your body and mind have reached their end. Your soul will eventually disappear too."
"Normally I'd have no reason or obligation to stop this... but letting such a rare thing as an innocent soul that awakens to selfhood only at death's edge scatter away seems wasteful."
Innocent, am I innocent? Rather, aren't I just a worn-out gramophone spouting regrets and complaints?
"So then. Based on our connection through these exchanged words, I think I'll subject you to the misfortune of 'isekai reincarnation.'"
...What?
"That's apparently what they call stories where you reincarnate as someone other than yourself and walk a second life."
"Apparently," what's with that? Far too casual and careless.
What is this voice anyway? So listless, capricious, and thoroughly suspicious!
"Don't say that. It's apparently all the rage. My acquaintances are obsessed with it. 'The human I sent became a peerless hero' and 'My ultimate handsome creation became a prince of a nation'—it's hugely popular!"
What is this!? What is this voice talking about!?
"'The real pleasure is giving humans power beyond their means, throwing them into other worlds, and watching them flounder around,' apparently. Call it bad taste or whatever. I can't tell the difference between that and illegal dumping."
These aren't the words of a participant. They're the statements of an even higher transcendent being who toys with all things.
And being acquainted with such beings means... this echoing voice is...
"Well, it's not good to decide you don't understand without even trying. Challenge everything, they say you can't understand what you don't try to know."
"So then. I'm going to use you as my isekai reincarnation toy from now on."
What!? Wait, what are you saying...!?
I can't keep up. Isekai reincarnation? Toy? What, what does this mean!?
"A name... isn't needed. The psyche is thin but would be problematic to take. Hmm, with such weak selfhood, even granting supernatural abilities wouldn't accomplish anything. Hmm... then let's do this:"
The voice speaks:
"■■■■■■. You will become a hero and save the world."
—What?
Hero? Did it say hero? Just now?
"Among the many worlds, there is one 'world being incinerated and about to burn out.' You'll go there as a summoned hero to help save the world."
"But you're far too unreliable. Existentially speaking. I could sell you to a guardian and have you enslaved, but you'd probably die immediately."
The mysterious voice speaks incredibly rude and ominously disturbing words.
"You have no sense of self. Did modern consumer civilization do this to you? Such a bland soul. You probably can't be expected to accomplish much with just a little effort."
"—Alright. I've decided your reincarnation destination. In a sense, your polar opposite. An existence that could be called the pinnacle of individuality and ego."
Instantly, the world transforms. Consciousness flows at tremendous speed, and all kinds of information rush past like shooting stars.
"You'll be summoned as a hero to a facility called the Human Order Continuation Guarantee Organization 'Chaldea.' To a world with no future, where the great feat called Human Order Incineration has been accomplished."
"There you'll become a Servant enslaved by the last Master of humanity, a human called Fujimaru Ritsuka, and become the blade that saves the world."
Save the world?
—Can I do such a thing? Such a fairy tale? Is it possible? Such a great feat?
"Half-hearted power would make sending you meaningless. Without giving you special privileges, you'd become a foreign object that 'might as well not exist.' Such things are just garbage."
"So you'll reincarnate as a hero among heroes—a hero called the King of Heroes. It's the perfect vessel to polish your soul. Since there's the causality of being 'created by the gods,' giving you form as a Servant is easy. ...The friend, Enkidu would be easier, but the complete lack of growth potential is problematic."
"Wait—such a thing—!"
"You will now abandon everything except being yourself."
Consciousness fades.
"How you turn out, how the world turns out, depends on your efforts."
The voice grows distant.
"Work hard. ■■■■■■. No..."
Slowly, consciousness sinks—
"'King of Heroes, Gilgamesh'..."
--
A space filled with blue, white lightning making me close my eyes.
Eventually the light subsides, and there stands one man.
Clad in golden full plate armor, with upstanding golden hair. And crimson eyes that coldly look down on everything.
"You are..."
The overwhelming majesty, the overwhelming presence made it all I could do to remain standing.
But I desperately squeeze out words from my trembling throat.
He is the peerless blade who will help save this human history.
The proxy of battle who will become sword and shield.
Carved into human history. The reflection of a Heroic Spirit.
That name is—
"Tell me your name."
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So how was the first chapter? Next chapter coming in an hour!