The space between life and death wasn't what Jason had expected. Instead of pearly gates or fiery pits, he found himself in what looked like a corporate office from hell—mahogany desk, leather chairs, and ambient lighting that screamed "expensive but soulless." The man sitting across from him wore a suit that probably cost more than Jason's entire wardrobe had, back when he was alive.
"You're dead. So get over it, you little..."
The wine glass shattered under the grip of the man, who did his best to not jump out of his chair and beat the shit out of the boy staring back at him with his arms crossed. Wine dripped onto the pristine carpet, each drop marking time in this surreal purgatory.
"Nice try," Jason smirked, which only further agitated the man. The whole situation felt like a fever dream, but the pain in his chest—or the memory of it—felt real enough. The suited figure finally snapped his fingers, and suddenly Jason was watching himself die.
The film played out in crystal clarity: him walking down a dark street, the masked figure emerging from the shadows, the knife sliding between his ribs with precision. He watched his own eyes go wide with shock, watched himself collapse onto the cold pavement as his killer rifled through his wallet.
"But how is that even possible?!" Jason's voice cracked as he stared at his own corpse on the screen. "I haven't even traveled around the world, didn't even hold hands with a girl—"
"Get. Over. It." The man cut off the film before the masked murderer started kicking the dead boy, holding Jason's empty wallet with disappointment. The screen flickered and died, leaving only the echo of violence hanging in the air.
Seeing Jason finally getting the hang of his situation, the man sighed in relief and snapped his fingers again. A blue screen materialized in front of Jason, glowing with an otherworldly light. It showed his image—pale, ordinary, unremarkable. Below it, his name was displayed in stark white letters: Jason Mitchell, Age 17, Status: Deceased.
The reality hit him like a truck. He really was dead. This wasn't some elaborate prank or nightmare he'd wake up from. The life he'd barely started living was over, snuffed out by some random criminal looking for pocket change.
"So what happens now?" Jason asked, his voice hollow. "Is this where you tell me about heaven and hell?"
The man chuckled darkly. "Nothing that simple, kid. You're getting something much more... interesting."
With a swipe of his fingers, the man replaced the original screen. New text blazed across the display in glowing red letters: 'Character Card Assimilation (CCA) System.' Jason's eyes went wide as he read the words, each letter seeming to burn itself into his retinas.
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Jason leaned forward, squinting at the screen.
"It's a system that gives you Character Cards upon completing quests," the man explained, his tone taking on the mechanical quality of someone who'd given this speech countless times before. "The cards you earn can be assimilated to gain skills, abilities, and knowledge from fictional characters. Think of it as... collecting trading cards, but with actual power behind them."
Jason stared at the screen, his mind reeling. "You're telling me I'm going to become some kind of... video game character?"
"More or less." The man shrugged. "Though the stakes are considerably higher than any game you've played."
A mixture of excitement and terror churned in Jason's stomach. This was insane—but it was also the most interesting thing that had ever happened to him. Back in his old life, he'd been nobody special. Average grades, no talents, no girlfriend, no real friends to speak of. Now he was being offered power, a chance to be something more.
"This is really happening, isn't it?" Jason whispered, more to himself than to the man. "A second chance... to actually matter."
"Don't get too excited," the man warned. "Power comes with responsibility, and responsibility comes with enemies. You might find yourself wishing you'd stayed dead."
"So where exactly am I going?" Jason asked, gesturing toward the swirling energy behind him. "What world am I being sent to?"
The man's expression grew unreadable. "That's not something even I know, kid. The portal chooses based on factors beyond my comprehension. Could be a world of magic and monsters, could be something that looks like your old reality but with hidden depths. The only way to find out..." He pointed directly at the portal. "Is to walk through that thing and see what's waiting on the other side."
"A second chance," the man continued, gesturing toward a swirling portal that had materialized behind Jason. "Though whether it's better or worse than your first life remains to be seen."
Getting up from the chair, Jason walked toward the portal as bright light began to envelop his form. The energy felt warm against his skin, electric with possibility. He turned around to get one last glance at his benefactor—or tormentor—who just grumbled at him, motioning for him to hurry up and leave.
"Any word of advice for me?" Jason called out over the increasing hum of the portal.
"Don't die again," the man replied flatly. "I hate paperwork."
Taking a deep breath, Jason closed his eyes and took a leap of faith into the portal, leaving everything to fate. The last thing he heard was the man muttering something about "another damn isekai protagonist."
The light consumed everything.
---
Inside a modest apartment in Kuoh Town, Japan, a boy with blonde hair and blue-gray eyes suddenly gasped awake. His breath came in short, panicked bursts as he sat up in bed, his heart hammering against his ribs. For a moment, he didn't know where—or who—he was.
The room was unfamiliar yet strangely comfortable. Sunlight filtered through cream-colored curtains, casting gentle shadows across wooden furniture and neatly organized shelves. Everything felt too clean, too peaceful, nothing like the cramped apartment he'd shared with his mother back in Detroit.
*Detroit?* The thought hit him like a physical blow. He wasn't in Detroit anymore. He wasn't even Jason anymore.
Fragments of memories began to surface, mixing and blending until he couldn't tell which were his and which belonged to this body. Dark memories of a church, of being taken in as an orphan. Children lined up in sterile white rooms, subjected to horrific experiments. The Holy Sword Project—a name that sent chills down his spine even though he didn't fully understand why.
*No, that wasn't me,* he thought desperately. *That was someone else. Someone named... Isaiah?*
But those memories felt real, visceral. The pain of watching his friends—other children like him—dying one by one as the experiments failed. The agony of his own death, only to be saved by a red-haired girl with kind eyes who'd given him a new life as her Knight.
*Knight.* The word resonated through him with supernatural weight.
The name came to him like a whisper: Yuuto Kiba.
Memories of his new life as a devil, serving Rias Gremory faithfully. His abilities with swords, his Sacred Gear that could create demonic blades. The hatred he harbored for Holy Swords—a hatred born from the trauma of watching his friends die in pursuit of wielding Excalibur. But underneath it all, Jason's own memories remained intact—the mundane life of a high school student in America, cut short by a mugger's blade.
He looked down at hands that weren't quite his own, fair and unblemished where his had been scarred from countless minor accidents. A mirror across the room reflected a face he recognized from the fragmented memories—handsome features, short blonde hair, blue-gray eyes, and a small mole beneath his left eye. The face of Kuoh Academy's "pretty boy," as the female students called him.
"Yuuto Kiba," he whispered, tasting the name on his tongue. It felt foreign and familiar all at once.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, he could feel the subtle yet vibrant existence of CCA System, humming with quiet power. He was no longer just Jason Mitchell, the unremarkable boy who'd died with nothing to show for his seventeen years. He was something new, something more.
But as he sat there in the pre-dawn darkness, adjusting to a life that was both his and not his, one thought echoed through his mind: *What exactly have I gotten myself into?*