The city lights flickered dimly, casting long, distorted shadows across the cracked asphalt. Kujo walked briskly, hood pulled low over his face, trying to ignore the chill that gnawed at his bones.
He had always been careful, always aware, yet something about tonight felt different. The air was heavy, tense, as if the world itself held its breath.
Kujo's mind wandered, replaying the small failures of his life. Every missed opportunity, every insult, every moment he had been powerless—it all pressed down on him like a weight he could not escape.
A faint sound broke his thoughts: the echo of footsteps not his own. He glanced over his shoulder, but the street was empty.
"Just nerves," he muttered under his breath, trying to convince himself. Yet the pit in his stomach refused to calm.
The city seemed to twist around him. Neon lights reflected on the wet pavement, turning puddles into molten mirrors. Kujo's heartbeat accelerated.
Then came the shot. Sudden, deafening, a crack that tore through the quiet like lightning. Kujo felt an unbearable pain rip through his chest. The world blurred, colors melting into white.
He collapsed onto the wet asphalt, rain mixing with the blood that seeped from the wound. Thoughts of regrets, of wasted years, of people he had failed, swirled violently in his mind.
And then nothing. Darkness swallowed him whole.
He expected emptiness. He expected silence. Instead, there was a warmth—a presence that hummed with infinite energy.
A light coalesced before him, metallic yet alive. A figure emerged, towering, impossibly perfect, glowing with a faint white aura.
"Kujo," a voice intoned, deep and resonant, echoing as if coming from every direction at once. "You have reached the end of your life. I am the arbiter of your next path."
Kujo tried to speak, but his throat felt paralyzed. The figure—robotic, divine, more machine than flesh—hovered closer, wings of light unfurling like radiant banners.
"You have been granted three wishes," the entity continued. "Three choices to shape your destiny beyond death. Choose wisely, for they are irreversible."
Kujo's mind raced. Three wishes… the thought felt absurd, almost impossible. And yet the aura of power radiating from the figure made his chest tighten with awe and fear.
He clenched his fists. The weight of the world—or rather, the universe—pressed down on him. "I… I have three?" he managed to whisper.
"Yes," the figure said simply. "And your time to decide is now."
Kujo's mind flashed. Power. Freedom. Revenge. Survival. The possibilities were infinite, yet terrifying.
The cold of the city, the pain of the bullet, all faded into insignificance. Here was an opportunity that transcended life itself.
His first wish came to him, almost instinctively, without hesitation.
"I wish for a system like Sung Jin-Woo's, but instead of the Shadow Monarch, I will have the Demon Monarch," he said, voice firm, steady, almost defiant.
A flash of white light enveloped him. The air rippled, heat and energy coiling around his body. Flames—white, pure, unearthly—licked at his skin but caused no pain.
A holographic interface shimmered into existence before him, floating in midair. Stats, skills, quests, and a menu of powers appeared, written in a language that was both alien and intuitive.
From the floor rose figures of small, demonic forms, hovering silently. Their eyes glowed with white fire, tails flicking, wings twitching, waiting for commands.
Kujo's heart pounded as he reached out. The energy thrummed against his fingertips, alive, responsive, like it recognized him as its master.
The figure's voice cut through the haze. "Granted. Your Demon Monarch system is now active. Choose your second wish."
Kujo's mind spun. This was beyond any human comprehension. To wield power like this was intoxicating… dangerous.
"I wish," he said slowly, deliberately, "for my system—the Demon Monarch—to have the same potential as Ashborn / Sung Jin-Woo."
The white flames flared violently, coiling around him in spirals. The demons expanded, growing larger, more defined, their forms monstrous and majestic.
The interface shimmered, stats and abilities rearranging, recalculating. Limitless potential. Growth that could rival gods themselves.
The robot-god remained silent for a moment, then inclined its head, acknowledging the magnitude of Kujo's wish.
Kujo felt a surge unlike anything before. Power coursed through him, pure and unrelenting. He could feel possibilities opening, threads of fate stretching before him.
A sense of calm washed over him. He was no longer a powerless human. He was the Demon Monarch.
Yet, even in the awe of his newfound power, another thought formed in his mind—a wish that would change everything.
"I wish," he whispered, "to be reborn in the Solo Leveling world, starting where Sung Jin-Woo was weak, so I can walk my path alongside him."
The world shattered around him in blinding white light. Space and time folded, reality bending and twisting.
Pain. Disorientation. Then… stillness.
Kujo opened his eyes. He was no longer on the asphalt of his city. He lay in a sterile hospital room, faint sunlight filtering through the blinds.
A figure lay beside him. Black hair, weary face… Sung Jin-Woo, awakening from his own ordeal.
The memories of his real-world death, the robot-god, the three wishes—they all surged in his mind. His system interface blinked faintly in his vision. White flames shimmered along his arms, invisible to anyone else.
He was alive. He was human, fragile… yet armed with power beyond comprehension.
The demons stirred quietly in the shadows of his mind, waiting for their master to command them.
Kujo took a slow, deliberate breath. The journey had begun.