Dandadan Lost frequents
Prologue: The Veil of the Unknown
The sound of cars filled the street even before dawn.
He walked with his hands in his pockets, scarf half-wrapped, feeling the winter chill, while the air of his breath mingled with that of the others. His eyes, which had already...
It was Tuesday. Or maybe Wednesday. I wasn't sure, but I didn't really care.
The subway sign flickered with the same glitch as always.
It seems they never fix it.
Two seconds of light, three of shadow. It was curious how some things seemed more constant than people.
He entered the station, swiped his card, and lost himself in the tide of bodies moving forward without looking at each other.
It wasn't that he disliked the routine; in fact, it gave him a certain relief to know that the day would be the same as the previous one. He had good pay and a job he didn't complain about.
Without any surprises. Without a sound. Just work, fast food, and going back to the apartment to watch something until I fall asleep.
That's my daily routine.
Even though my friends invited me to play Roblox or watch soccer, I found that boring. I prefer playing Uno or Monopoly
to one of those awful games.
I have somewhat refined and exotic tastes. Not such low-class stuff. Not just anything.
Although I tolerate the occasional thing that's safer and more fun.
While waiting for the train, I checked my phone. No messages. Not one. Not even from the group chat with my coworkers.
My family sent me the usual: stickers, blessings, encouragement, the usual stuff, and of course, "Don't use headphones in the street." That comes from Mom.
I listen to music on my phone and sometimes play games or watch a series on Netflix. It was my break and escape from the responsibilities of being an adult. Maybe if I had known beforehand how hard being an adult was, I never would have wanted it so badly.
Sometimes I think I wasted a bit of my childhood and adolescence, but overall...
I'm glad I don't have the vices that today's youth have.
Like smoking weed or getting drunk and skipping class.
I think that's why they say I'm boring. Meh, I just take care of my health. I don't like putting harmful things in my body.
I stopped writing to my classmates weeks ago; they didn't even notice. Unlike my family, whose group chat is always active for gossip and not for what's most important. The usual, I guess.
"Okay," I thought, leaning against a column. "Fewer commitments."
The train arrived with a metallic screech. I grabbed a bar and let the movement sway me. Outside, the tunnels passed like a sequence of memories I didn't want to look at: the projects that didn't work out, the friends who drifted away, the feeling that nothing in particular awaited me at the end of the day.
A little girl, sitting across from him, was trying to inflate a star-shaped balloon. The plastic crumpled and squeaked. For a moment, Silver smiled. He couldn't remember the last time he'd laughed without thinking.
Being a kid wasn't so bad, despite experiencing things like bullying; he was freer than an adult.
Now they even charge you for the floor, how absurd.
When I got to my stop, I slowly climbed the stairs. The sky was overcast, and the wind carried the smell of rain and the exhaust fumes of poorly maintained cars. Before crossing the street, he checked his watch. He was right on time, as always.
And then, it happened.
It wasn't a spectacular accident. There were no screams or immediate sirens. Just a sharp sound, as if the world were exhaling.
A car that didn't brake. A street that didn't offer second chances.
The steam from the cappuccino in his hand mingled with the exhaust fumes. And for a moment-just one-he thought it was strange: he'd spent years trying not to stand out, and yet the world had stopped him in his tracks.
Then, everything went white.
Without pain.
Without noise.
No smell
No taste
Family, I'm sorry
So this is how my life ends
What a disappointment.
Only silence... and a voice that seemed otherworldly, asking something she couldn't quite grasp.
Silence.
A silence so absolute it hurt. He blinked, but there was nothing-nothing above, no nothing below, no air. Just a white, infinite expanse, as if the universe had forgotten its colors and brilliance.
Neither cold, nor heat, nor weight... only the unbearable certainty of existing without a body.
Then he heard a voice.
Not an echo, not a sound. A voice spoke within his mind, like thoughts:
So this is the end of your life... How disappointing, don't you think?
He tried to move, but his body wouldn't respond. He felt fear, a pang in his soul.
"Who are you?" he asked, forcing words that seemed to drag.
"God, if you want to call me that." Although that title is so boring... I prefer "The Observer of Chaos." I feed on what humans call destiny... and on what they destroy trying to change it.
Space distorted.
A figure began to form: a human silhouette, but with too many eyes, too many smiles, too many voices speaking to it at the same time. Each word it spoke sounded like thousands.
It looked like something out of an anime or manga, a fantasy.
"Your life was a yawn for the universe, Silver. You were born, you ate, you breathed, and you died without a purpose. Not even your death was interesting.
I won't even bother using your real name because, frankly, it's not worth it knowing you lived like a zombie.
I just had really bad luck! It's not like I didn't want to enjoy myself!"
"Luck?" The voice cackled. "No, little one... Your existence was pointless."
"So this is God?" I thought compassion was for all the children of His creation. How foolish I was...
Silence again.
The echo of his own words dissolved into nothingness, as if space itself were laughing at his attempt to sound brave.
The figure before him-that being teeming with eyes, smiles, and shadows-legged slightly, studying him like a bored child observes a barely moving insect as it tears off its legs.
"Compassionate?" the voice repeated, as if tasting the word for the first time. "What a... human term."
Do you really think something that exists beyond time could be interested in the pleas of a species that doesn't last even a blink?
Silver tried to speak, but his throat closed. That presence wouldn't allow him to think without feeling naked.
Every memory, every white lie he had ever told himself, seemed to float before the eyes of that god.
"Let's see..." the voice continued, almost amused. "
You were born, you grew up, you complained about your routine, you dreamed of being special, and you died run over by a distracted driver.
No, woman. You didn't have children, you were an exploited wage earner, lonely by choice, as it seemed. Two cats and a loving family-that last one is lucky; many don't even have that.
Do you know how many times I've seen that story? Hundreds of millions. The same pattern. The same mediocrity. And they all believe their suffering is unique."
A deep laugh echoed in the void, a mixture of thunder and breathing.
Each laugh made the nothingness around them vibrate.
"Do you want me to tell you the truth, Silver?" it said mockingly. "I'm not interested in you.
Not you, not your thoughts, not your sad sense of duty."
"Your life was just another copy among millions." You complained, dreamed a little, and then gave up.
Do you know how many like you I've seen?
So many I've lost count.
Same fears, same excuses, same tears for "one more chance."
A second chance, starting over.
You spent your life waiting for something to change...
but you never changed.
She clenched her teeth. She felt rage, powerlessness, a knot in her chest.
She wanted to scream, but there was no air. Only the voice of the god filling everything.
"Not even your death had any purpose. An accident. A traffic mistake.
Not even enough blood to grab the newspapers' attention.
You were background noise, a name that will be erased in days. Just another statistic that the news reports use as their daily headline, your body displayed like skin, mere morbid fascination for your kind."
"Your world is full of corpses of people who 'did what they could.'" And yet, the universe keeps turning without us noticing.
"Those who fear death most are those who have lived least." Does that sound familiar?
There was silence.
A silence so brutal that even my thoughts stopped.
Then, the figure took a step forward.
The ground-if there was any ground-cracked beneath its weight, as if space itself couldn't bear it.
Its shadow spread over me, swallowing me whole.
"I could erase you right here.
It would be easy.
Your soul barely has any flavor.
But..." Its multiple mouths curved into a crooked smile. "There is something in you.
A tiny spark, a repressed desire that even you don't know about.
And that... entertains me."
Silver trembled.
He didn't know whether to feel hope or fear.
The god seemed to be examining him like a curious child eyeing an insect before plucking its wings.
"Do you want to keep living, Silver?" he asked, his tone almost gentle. "Do you want 'another chance'? Come on, tell me. I love second chances... they're so prone to disaster."
"...Yes, I want to live."
The god laughed. It wasn't a human laugh; it was a mixture of echoes and screams that reverberated in his mind, as if thousands of people were laughing at once.
"Of course you do. Even the most wretched cling to life, even if it's just to keep stumbling. But don't get too excited, my little walking corpse. Nothing is free... and I'm not a benevolent god."
The void began to crack, and behind the fissures, glimpses of worlds, realities, impossible dimensions could be seen. Some filled with monsters, others with war, others with fire and despair.
"I will grant you three wishes," said the deity, raising a hand that never quite took shape. "But every wish comes at a price.
And every word you utter could be your downfall.
I have seen many ask for power, love, immortality... and end up devoured by what they created.
So choose carefully, Silver.
Your fate... will be my entertainment." The white light turned red, as if existence itself were stained with blood.
The god leaned toward him, whispering almost tenderly:
"Make me laugh, human.
Show me that it's still worth watching mortals grovel for something they call 'hope.'"
"You're really giving me three wishes? Like a genie in a lamp? Three wishes... sounds cliché."
Ah, but clichés exist because there are always idiots who accept them. It's like those cheap fairy tales you loved so much.
The deity watched him in silence, while Silver thought. His mind trembled, but he cautiously began to list his thoughts.
"In a way, that's true, but mine are more powerful and have more far-reaching consequences."
Silver laughed bitterly.
"I definitely shouldn't have left the house today."
The void continued to breathe around him, as if the universe had lungs.
With each word of the god, the light trembled, and nothingness distorted like a liquid mirror.
Silver swallowed hard—if he still had a throat—trying to stay calm.
That voice wasn't just a sound; it was a presence seeping through the pores of his soul.
—So... you'll really grant me three wishes? Silver asked, his voice barely audible.
—Of course. —replied the god with a hint of mockery—. "I'm not a monster without words." But, like any offering, it has its rules.
And you... you'll have to survive them.
Space shattered into luminous lines, and each fracture revealed impossible images:
seas ablaze, skies with eyes, cities devoured by their own shadows.
"Rule number one," said the god, raising a hand covered in mouths. Neither absolute immortality, nor omnipotence, nor total knowledge.
—You're not going to get "all the power", "infinite magic" or "the gift of guaranteed victory". That's so boring even gods yawn. If everything goes your way, there's no story... and I love watching uncertain endings bleed."
Silver lowers his gaze. —I suppose I understand.
—Oh, no.
"You still don't understand," the voice replies, with a smile that is heard more than seen. Every advantage you ask for will come at a price.
And every "gift" can become a burden.
Do you want power? Fine. But it will cost you your peace, your relationships, or your humanity. You can't have it all.
Absolutes bore me.
—Rule number two:
You cannot return to your original world.
You've already wasted it.
Why repeat such a predictable game?
I'd rather see you stumble over new problems.
—Rule number three:
You cannot wish for something that eliminates chaos.
If you do that, you will simply cease to exist.
And I'd lose my entertainment.
Rule 4
Everything you receive must be paid for.
Not with gold or blood, but with experiences.
Your life will readjust to maintain the balance.
If you ask for power, you will lose peace.
If you ask for love, you will face loss.
If you ask for knowledge, you will see things that no human should understand.
Rule 5
You will remember fragments of this talk, but not all of it.
Some rules will be erased from your mind upon waking.
I want to see how you act when you don't know exactly what you did wrong.
Rule 6: Chance is my hand
You can choose the world, but not the role you play in it.
You can be a hero, a villain, a spectator, or a corpse.
That's my fun.
Rule 7
You cannot dominate or manipulate people with power you haven't earned.
—None of you choosing skills that allow you to control other people's minds, hearts, or wills.
You cannot "romanticize" others with artificial power or influence.
If you're going to earn their trust, let it be because you truly earned it, not because the universe programmed you to do so.
—So I can't force anything...
—Exactly—the god interrupts sarcastically—.
Love, friendship, loyalty... are coins earned with pain, not tricks.
And if you forget that, the world itself will remind you.
Rule 8—No trying to be "the chosen one," "the protagonist," "the only one who can save the world."
The universe doesn't revolve around you, and if it tries, it will collapse with you at the center.
You are just another piece... even if you are an interesting one.
Silver sighs. "And what about 'minor' wishes?"
"It depends," says the god, his voice becoming higher, almost amused. Some desires fall into what I like to call the "gray area."
They're not forbidden... but they're not free either.
Rule 9: No resets.
No loops, flashbacks, or "going back in time."
What you choose, stays.
You can't undo decisions.
The story moves forward, even when you're dragging yourself along.
"If I've seen so many characters suffer because of it, I don't want to make it my own." Life is hell, don't even think about it.
Rule 10 —Every time you make an important decision, someone—or something—will be watching.
Chaos doesn't give gifts: it tests you.
And if you show that you've learned something, maybe you'll get a second chance...
But only if you manage to deserve it.
Rule 11 —If you choose the path of the "savior," make sure you know who you're saving.
Because in every world, monsters have a story...
Rule 12 —No "systems," "interfaces," "levels," or "heroes with stats."
If the world wants to give you power, it will do it its way.
If you try to force it, that system will turn against you... and measure you as an enemy.
Rule 13 —Every miracle needs a witness.
Every time something impossible happens, someone will see it.
And that someone will be the aftermath of the event.
Whether to worship you or to destroy you, it makes no difference: every miracle leaves a shadow.
There are no "secret" acts in the living worlds.
The god's tone changed. He no longer sounded angry, but... amused.
As if he were preparing a spectacle just for himself.
"And the rest?" Silver asked, choosing his words carefully.
"The rest are free.
You can ask for whatever you want... if you have the courage to bear the consequences."
I remained silent for a few seconds.
My mind, still human, tried to grasp the scope of this.
Then, he dared to ask what no one had dared before:
"What kind of worlds could you send me?"
The god's laughter echoed, distorting the white until it turned red.
"That's a good question.
You're one of the few who asks it before plunging headlong into the abyss."
His eyes—dozens of them, of varying sizes—all opened at once.
And before Silver, the void filled with visions.
"I could send you to a world where men kill gods and gods eat men.
I could leave you in a land that never sees the dawn, where madness is a religion and heroes die laughing.
Or, if I'm feeling particularly generous, you could fall into a city where the dead walk and prayers rot before reaching heaven."
The god smiled.
"There are worlds of pure despair, where every day is a war.
Others are false paradises, where people smile as they devour each other.
Do you want me to continue?"
Silver shook his head, pale, almost trembling.
But that small display of fear seemed to amuse the entity even more.
"Don't worry, not all of them are like that.
Some... simply make you wish you would never wake up."
The silence returned, but this time it weighed differently.
He didn't know if what he felt was fear or fascination.
Deep down, something inside him—that same impulse that had driven him to read stories of impossible worlds—was stirring.
"Can I use one of my wishes to choose the world?" —he asked cautiously.
The god's eyes narrowed, almost smug.
—Interesting.
Most fools simply ask for power, fame, or eternal love.
And then they cry when they discover that eternity also hurts.
His voice dropped to a whisper.
"Yes, you can use a wish for that.
Though I must warn you... my interpretations are capricious.
Precision has never been my strong suit." Silver breathed—or thought he did—and pondered.
He knew that any mistake could be his undoing.
—And one last rule— the god added, lowering his voice to a painful whisper—
"You may not ask for anything that contradicts your very essence."
If deep down you desire something selfish, your wish will twist to reflect it.
If you lie by asking me for purity, you will receive corruption.
If you ask for power without purpose... that power will devour you.
Silver looked at him seriously.
"In short, any mistake could kill me or condemn me."
The god smiled.
"Exactly. And yet... you're still here.
That pleases me."
Then space vibrated again.
The god leaned toward him, his many eyes burning with curiosity.
"Now that you know the rules, tell me, little fragment of will... Which world do you choose?"
He breathed, pondering each word he heard, and then answered:
"Then my first wish..." he said slowly, "is to reincarnate in a relatively peaceful world.
One where supernatural things exist, but not all is death and despair.
A place with hope, though also danger.
That isn't... a hell."
The god observed him in silence.
For an instant, his many faces seemed to merge into one, expressionless, almost human.
"How curious..." he finally whispered. "After seeing the void, you still seek hope.
You give me reasons to continue existing." A crack opened beneath Silver's feet, and a turquoise light burst forth from within.
The god leaned forward, his voice becoming deeper, more intimate.
"And what world is that, human?"
"The world of Dandadan." The god paused, surprised for a second, before letting out a laugh that shook reality itself.
"A world where humans fight against the inexplicable... Enchanting! It has a delicious balance between the absurd and the tragic.
Yokai, aliens, superstition, youth, desire. All in a blender of emotional chaos."
The god raised an eyebrow.
"Why that one?" Silver stared into the void.
"Because it's a world where chaos exists, but doesn't destroy everything. Where madness can have meaning."
And... because life there is unpredictable, but not impossible.
The god observed him in prolonged silence.
Then his eyes shone with something akin to pride.
"You have the spirit of a strategist. Not a hero, but a gambler. And I love gamblers who think before they move." The void twisted, as if an invisible smile were crossing the universe.
"Good, Silver. First wish: you will be reincarnated in the world of Dandadan."
"Hold on, I haven't said my full wish yet.
Yes, I wish to be reincarnated in the world of Dandadan with my memories from my previous life."
For a moment, one of his faces smiled with pride, while the other frowned. As if part of him wanted to punish him... and another part, applaud him. —Not bad, a loophole, it seems you understood.
—I won't go blindly into a world where the occult is just around the corner.
—Good, Silver, wish granted.
Now, the remaining two, choose.
Silence returned, so profound that each breath felt like a crime.
The white space distorted, as if the universe were exhaling with boredom.
The figure of the "God" —if it could be called that— slowly turned, and thousands of eyes opened on its body, observing Silver from impossible angles.
—Well, since you were brave enough to choose a world—he said with a mocking but satisfied tone—, I suppose you should know the rules of the game.
I wouldn't want you to end up destroyed before the first act.
Silver swallowed hard. That voice didn't just resonate: it carried weight.
—More rules...?
—Yes. Even chaos needs limits. Otherwise, it wouldn't be fun to watch you manage.
The god extended a hand; In the air, symbols, letters, and impossible geometries began to appear.
Each one represented a universal law written in fire.
Almost all reincarnated people make the same mistake...
They believe that because they have "power," they can do whatever they want in the new world.
They don't understand that I don't give thrones... I give labyrinths.
—That's why, Silver, listen carefully to these additional rules.
Engrave them on your soul, because you will forget them.
The Intervener's Curse.
If your influence creates an absurd imbalance—for example, preventing key deaths, creating utopias, or disrupting the natural history of the world—the balance will be restored.
Sometimes, that means someone else will die in your place.
Sometimes... that you will die thousands of times without truly dying.
Every world has a narrative flow, an invisible timeline of events.
You cannot destroy it.
You can divert it, branch it, twist it a little...
But if you try to break it, the universe itself will rewrite itself around you.
And when that happens, not even I will intervene.
I will simply watch... and laugh.
—So it's the butterfly effect 🦋
—.... That's a good summary
The Restriction of Usurping Power.
You cannot steal, copy, or absorb abilities from beings whose existence is anchored to the "core" of the world.
That includes deities, demons, protagonists, and guardians of balance.
You can confront them, of course, but their gifts are immutable.
The universe uses them as hinges.
And breaking a hinge... makes the whole door fall on top of it.
—OK, although there's nothing to hold on to anyway, noted in any case.
The Silence of the Unwritten.
If you know the future of that world —because you saw it in your old reality—, that information will be fragmented or falsified.
Changed memories, different events, people who don't exist where they should be.
You thought you knew what would happen... but you don't.
Chaos doesn't follow your spoilers.
—Hey, that's not fair...
—Knowing everything makes everything boring.
Conditional Humanity.
No matter how strong you become, you will still be human.
You will bleed.
You will suffer.
And if you die outside the game's design, not even I will be able to bring you back. Your soul will be suspended... without a body or memory.
I call it "the freeze screen."
Neutrality is an illusion.
—Saying "I am not taking sides" is taking sides with silence.
Doing nothing is also a choice.
And in worlds where chaos reigns, silence kills as much as the sword.
So decide: observer or participant?
There is no real middle ground.
The void breathed, and the figure of the god—that amalgam of eyes, smiles, and shadows—legged slightly toward Silver.
Her voice lowered, now slower, denser. As if what he was about to say weighed more than everything that had come before.
—The most problematic of all...
The rule that humans ignore, break, or fear more than any other.
The air vibrated with a sharp hum, as if the word itself resisted being uttered.
And then, the god spoke in a tone that mingled mockery with a trace of genuine contempt.
Ah... we come to the thorniest issue of all. Not powers, not death, not destiny... but love.
Everyone, absolutely everyone, believes they can handle it. Those who do have power or will can control who loves them and who they love.
What a recurring mistake.
The god snapped his fingers, and thousands of images were reflected in the void — heroes, villains, saints, and monsters — all falling for love, all getting lost because of it.
That's why the gray rule exists.
It's not forbidden to love, Silver. Nor is it forbidden for several people to love you.
What is forbidden is forcing that love—altering the will, rewriting the heart, manipulating what should be born of choice.
That's where desire becomes manipulation, control, and tyranny.
The god's tone lowered, almost a whisper that echoed in all directions.
Polyamory... polygamy, that's what breaks most people. Some believe they can handle it; others use it as an excuse to fill a void.
The irony is that, even if you have the power to create worlds, you can't manufacture true feeling.
If several people love you, so be it.
If even one hates you completely, that will also be your burden.
That's the part those who demand 'a perfect life' don't understand. There is no perfection in affection.
The god smiled with a touch of melancholy.
So, rule number... I don't know, I've lost count:
You can love one person, several, or no one.
You can be loved in return, or rejected by everyone.
But never—ever—will you use any power to break another's heart.
There is no redemption for those who turn love into a weapon.
Silver listened, unsure if these words were a warning or simply an observation. The god, for his part, seemed to enjoy watching the doubt grow in his soul.
And yet, the most curious thing...
Is that many who understand this rule still fall.
Because love doesn't need magic to ruin you.
And before you start thinking this is a flaw exclusive to male pride...—the god let out a dry laugh—"you'll be wrong."
The void was illuminated once more, revealing intertwined scenes: men who destroyed kingdoms for love, women who summoned demons because their affections were unrequited, beings who lost their very essence trying to hold onto what was already dead.
"It's not just men who have broken that rule, Silver.
Women have too.
I've seen queens curse entire nations just to avoid losing a lover.
I've seen heroines condemn entire worlds to save a single smile.
And I've seen goddesses—yes, goddesses—who would alter the very fabric of reality just to keep by their side something that no longer loved them." The god's tone became more acidic, almost mocking, but with an undercurrent of strange understanding.
Love doesn't discriminate. It doesn't understand gender, morality, or logic.
And those who try to control it... end up being controlled by it.
In the end, it doesn't matter if you're a man, a woman, or something in between:
when love mixes with power, it ceases to be love and becomes a currency.
One more dangerous than any forbidden spell.
Silver looked at him with a mixture of respect and bewilderment. The god, however, continued with a barely perceptible smile.
"That's why that rule is the most treacherous, Silver."
Because even those who believe they are obeying it end up breaking it without realizing it.
Sometimes out of fear.
Sometimes out of affection.
And other times... out of simple loneliness.
The echo of his words dissolved into the void, leaving only silence and the faint glow of Silver's soul, which seemed to be processing what he had just heard.
Observer straightened up, his voice amplifying until it became almost unbearable.
Each word resonated as if the universe itself were exhaling a warning.
"These aren't punishments, Silver. They're mechanisms.
I don't hate humans: you hate yourselves when you think you can cheat fate.
My task is simple: to keep chaos in balance.
You call it tragedy. I call it... entertainment with a purpose."
He paused.
Then, in an almost mocking tone:
"And now that you know the rules...
Let's see if you're one of those who respect them...
Or one of those who break them so well that even chaos applauds."
I don't wish to be a spiritual prodigy in the realm of ki and magic.
—Hmm, something normal, even predictable and boring. But it's valid.
Wish two granted.
Only one wish remains. Think it over carefully; there's no turning back now.
An impossible silence dominated the void.
It wasn't the kind of silence one feels when alone; It was a silence that seemed to absorb even the very concept of sound. In that space, the god moved—if it could be called "moving"—among golden threads and floating fragments that extended in all directions. Each thread was a memory, an emotion, a decision etched in Silver's soul.
The god extended his hand, and the threads began to project images: a bleak childhood, a world where dreams seemed like broken promises, mistakes repeated.
A young man with a disability, Silver, appeared in them, first as a hopeful youth, then as an exhausted adult, trapped in monotony, in the frustration of a world that didn't understand him.
And yet... there was something. A spark. An unsettling glow that not even misfortune could extinguish.
"Interesting..." —the god murmured, his voice echoing inside an empty temple—. You say you want a new opportunity, but it's not exactly redemption you're looking for, is it?
What you have... is curiosity. And a touch of pride.
The scenes shifted: Silver reading stories from other worlds, yearning for adventures, dreaming of the impossible. But also judging, criticizing the decisions of heroes and villains alike.
In his mind, the thought of "I would do better" always lingered.
The god smiled with a hint of irony.
"And yet, here you are... searching for your own story. Not a borrowed one.
Not one where you'll 'imitate the perfect hero.'
You want to break the script, don't you?" The threads began to glow more intensely. The vision showed the moments when Silver hesitated, when he helped others without expecting anything in return, and when he also acted out of ego or spite.
A complex soul, with an uneasy mix of sincere altruism and a pride that sought validation.
The kind of contradiction the god found... delicious.
"Oh, I see..." he said, crossing his arms as he watched. You say your desire is to "truly live," but what you really yearn for is to control your chaos.
You're one of those who claim to hate disorder... but when everything is calm, you feel like you're suffocating.
Perfectionism, obsessive-compulsive
A mind that needs noise to feel alive.
The records revealed his romantic past, the broken ties, the prolonged silences with people who once loved him.
Moments where he preferred distance to conflict.
And others where, in the end, he hurt more for fear of being hurt.
The god sighed.
"You're not a villain, but you're not a saint either.
And that makes you... fascinating." He smiled again, though now with a more serene tone. "The curious thing is that you don't seek revenge, or fame, or glory.
You just want to understand." The god walked among the threads of light, and with each step, the memories fell into place, as if the cosmos itself acknowledged his authority.
Suddenly, his gaze hardened.
"Although... I cannot ignore this," he said, observing a particular memory. "Your intentions are not always as pure as you claim. Here..." a scene was projected, "...you hesitated. Here you desired something you knew wasn't yours.
And here, you even dreamed of 'fixing' what others deemed right." The god leaned toward the image, almost amused.
"The line between kindness and manipulation... how thin it can be, isn't it?
You know this well, Silver.
And yet, you ask me for everything with the calm gaze of someone who believes they can maintain their composure when power smiles upon them.
And it's not as if I haven't noticed the desire; after all, a part of you desires it."
It sounds bad; others might think it's disgusting, immoral, and inappropriate, but that was at a younger age. It's part of you, whether you like it or not.
A Hidden Desire
The threads retracted.
The memories melted into a single point of light that remained suspended before him: Silver's soul, naked, without excuses or embellishments.
The god observed her for a moment longer and spoke in a deep voice, heavy with a mixture of respect and warning.
"Don't underestimate yourself, mortal.
I've seen many who said, 'I won't be like them,' and ended up devoured by their own reflection.
You have the spark of change... but also the shadow of excess.
And that will determine whether your story deserves to be told or erased."
The god raised his hand, sealing the thread of light with a gesture.
Then he smiled, serene but with that elegant cruelty that only ancient beings possess.
"Good, Silver. Now I understand why I chose you." You're not looking for a happy ending.
You're looking for a truth that hurts enough to make you feel alive.
Let's see if you can endure it.
—Now, what is your final wish?
Well, I have to think about what could help me besides an affinity and talent for spirituality in a world where enemy attacks are recurrent for people with supernatural abilities.
I need something... But what... Something balanced, useful, and easy to use
If what God says is true, I can't afford to wish for things like a Sharingan or the power of a Saiyan or a Super Sentai...
There must be something I once loved that I could use.
I could choose to control Yokai with a Yokai Watch...
No... The Yokai in that world aren't as cooperative as Whisper and Jibanyan.
The power of the Western Dragon... Or Danny Phantom's are COOL, but do I really want that? 🤨
The full ninja suit sounds awesome, but that Nomicon would be a pain in the ass...
...
!!!
I have it, I really like it, and it's perfect, it even matches.
—My third wish is, I want, no, I wish for a custom Omnitrix. I want it to have a way of being removed, but not easily. I want the Omnitrix to be comfortable to use and free of extreme glitches or bugs.
—.... This was going well, but I suppose human nature and sins go hand in hand.
But I suppose a big wish was normal, knowing it's the last one there is...
....
Silence. Even the void seemed to lean in to listen better.
The god didn't laugh. His face—always shifting—tensed in a way Silver wouldn't have been able to interpret if he had a body.
One eye closed; a smile turned straight. Something like displeasure crossed his voice.
"An... 'omni... what'?" he said, testing the word with a gesture somewhere between mocking and distrustful. "Human names for devices always sound to me like children's games asking for impossible gifts."
"That's what I want," Silver repeated, firmly. "I'm not asking for it to be perfect, or invincible. I want something practical that allows me to defend myself and adapt." Something that combines the technological with the spiritual, that resonates with my affinities, and that won't turn me into a tyrant.
The god bowed his head. There was a heartbeat, as if the void itself awaited the answer.
"You're mistaken if you think I don't understand human ambition," the entity murmured. "That desire is great, too clear. Too... human."
"I can grant it," he added, but his tone was sharp. "Not because I like it, but because it amuses me to see how you manage with something that combines two worlds."
"But there will be conditions." Silver swallowed. His pulse—or whatever it was in the void—quickened.
"First: I won't give it to you here. It's not for you to pick up and play with. I'll place it in the world you're going to, separate, far away, and protected. If you want to use it, you'll have to go and get it. Stories that begin with 'I got it on my forehead' bore me." You must earn it.
Second: it will be bound to your soul. It will need synchronization with your essence; if you lie about who you are, or try to use it to break the wills of others, it will fail and harm you.
Third: I will balance it. It won't be a flawless artifact: it will have stability, comfort, and few bugs, yes—because you obviously want to use it—but in return, it will have a weakness you won't be able to foresee until you experience it. It will be something that forces you to learn, not to win.
The god paused, and for a moment, his tone became almost paternal. Or perhaps it was just another mask.
Furthermore, little strategist, it will attract attention. Not just from the curious or collectors, but from things that detect the fusion of technology with soul. It's not that I'm punishing you; the world will be excited by that signal. There will be eyes, and not all of them will be friendly. Silver nodded. There was no complacency in his gesture: only the firm resolve of one who had already calculated the price.
"I accept," he said. "I'll go for it if necessary. I'll deserve it." The god remained motionless for a moment, observing the determination in that human spark.
"Good," he said finally. "Third wish approved."
"But remember what I warned you: you can't use it to bend hearts or tear the fabric of the world. Do that, and you'll see how a wish that seemed useful becomes the cage where the soul dies."
With a gesture that was almost a sigh, the emptiness around them tightened; the strands of light rearranged themselves. The contract was sealed with the coldness of one who gives a gift and is already thinking about the next act.
The god watched him for a long time, without moving. Then he let out a sigh that seemed to come from centuries past.
"They always say that... at the beginning." The boy frowned.
"What do you mean?"
"You don't seek power, but balance. You won't do it like the others. You won't fall."
The god bowed his head slightly, without a trace of sarcasm in his tone. "But balance, son of men, isn't sustained by metal or energy. It's sustained by the soul."
There was an awkward silence.
The boy wanted to reply, but didn't know what to say.
The god lowered his gaze, as if speaking more to himself than to him.
"I've heard hundreds of voices asking for the same thing with different names... Swords, seals, grimoires, rings, suits, armor. They all call them 'tools,' they all say it will be different."
"I don't..." he tried to say.
The god gently interrupted him:
"I don't blame you. It's human to want security. It's human to be afraid. Even the angels were afraid when they faced the void and chose wings to flee the abyss." He looked up, his eyes flashing for a moment. "But tell me, how many more times must I hear the same request before I stop expecting something different?"
The boy felt a pang in his chest.
For the first time, he understood that the god wasn't annoyed... but tired.
"So, you won't grant it?" he asked, his voice trembling.
The god leaned back on his throne, his expression serene but distant.
"I will grant it. The rules require it, and you have asked for it clearly." He paused and added in a more somber tone, "But don't expect me to bless you."
A current of energy began to form between his hands, a green and silver spiral that slowly rotated.
As it condensed, the god murmured,
"This artifact... will be true to your decisions. Not to your words."
"What does that mean?" he asked, puzzled.
"That it reflects what you are, not what you pretend to be." The god extended his hand. "And when you look into it, you will see not just creatures or forms... but your own masks."
The god remained motionless as the boy's soul faded into the light.
His expression, serene at first, slowly hardened.
There was no more compassion or weariness... only a shadow of suppressed annoyance.
"Always the same..." he murmured, observing the space where Silver had been. "Humans believe that desire ends when they utter it, but that's precisely when its price begins."
The glow that remained floating before him—the core of Silver's soul—flickered faintly.
The god extended a hand over him, and a chain of ancient symbols intertwined in the air, sealing his fate.
"Don't say I didn't warn you..." His voice turned cold, almost sharp. "Desires have weight, Silver. And each one leaves a deeper mark than the last. May this life teach you what balance truly means."
For a moment, the divine throne glowed with a dull red light, a radiance not of anger, but of judgment.
The god lowered his gaze and whispered, almost sadly,
"This time... you won't even remember why you chose this world."
The soul dissolved completely, falling in a spiral of light until it vanished between planes.
And with a final flash, reincarnation began.
[Earthly plane – some Japanese suburb, a cloudy afternoon]
A small room, with dirty walls and half-closed curtains. The smell of alcohol permeated the air like a lingering ghost.
A disheveled woman, with bloodshot dark green eyes and thick brown hair haphazardly pulled back, sat beside a bed.
Her hands were clasped together, trembling, and she murmured between sobs:
"Please... please, wake up, Yuichi... don't get me into trouble..." Her voice didn't sound like genuine sorrow, but like fear.
The fear of someone who only prayed to avoid punishment, not to redeem themselves.
On the bed, covered in old bandages, lay a small, pale boy with a bandage on his head and a visible scar on his forehead.
His lips moved slightly.
A whimper escaped his throat.
The woman—Yuko Hanami—startled.
"Y-Yuichi! You're awake! Thank God, you're alive!" she said, her voice a mixture of relief and nervousness.
The boy opened his eyes slightly.
Everything was blurry at first, but slowly the sounds began to make sense.
A fluent, rapid language, with tones he only knew from fiction.
Japanese...? he thought, stunned.
He tried to move, but a sharp pain in his head stopped him.
He reached for the bandage and noticed the scar beneath it.
His pulse was racing.
This can't be... Where am I? What happened...?
The woman looked at him with a mixture of guilt and annoyance.
"Don't move so much, you fell down the stairs, remember?" she said quickly, avoiding his gaze.
You fell... or was I pushed?
That cold feeling in his chest wouldn't go away.
The heavy air in the room, the dirty dishes on the table, the empty bottle on the floor... everything screamed child neglect.
"Is this what she meant by 'it will have its price...'?" he thought, a lump forming in his throat.
He didn't remember his former name, nor his words to the god. Only flashes.
A deep voice.
A judgment.
A warning.
And now he was there, trapped in a small, weak body, with a mother who looked at him more with guilt than affection.
"Don't look at me like that," Yuko said, lighting a cigarette. "You're awake now, aren't you? So stop making me feel bad..."
Yuichi lowered his gaze. He didn't understand everything she said, but enough to grasp the tone.
It hurt more than the blow to his head.
The god had left him in an environment completely different from his previous life.
There, he had had a family who loved him, even if it was an empty and boring existence.
Here, he was a forgotten child in a corner of an apartment filled with smoke and resentment.
Outside, cars sped through puddles in a light rain.
The reflection of the blank television showed his childlike face with an aged look, as if his soul didn't belong in that body.
Somewhere beyond time, the god watched from his throne, his gaze hard but serene.
Not with pure cruelty, but with the rigor of one who enforces an inevitable law.
"You didn't ask what you would be reincarnated as, or how..." his voice echoed.
"You only said you wanted to live. And living, little Silver, doesn't always mean being happy."
The wind blew through the cracks in the window, and Yuichi—without understanding why—felt like to cry.
But he didn't.
He just stared at the ceiling, feeling that his new life had just begun...
and that this time, hell was disguised as home.
Now I'm Yuichi Hanami, a boy with Remi's destiny.
I hoped it would be better, but at least I'm still a man... that's already a victory, I guess...
End of chapter