Chapter 1 — The Arrival
A sharp, stabbing pain tore through Razan's skull. He gasped, breath catching in his throat as he forced his eyes open. His vision blurred at first, shapes dancing and twisting, until finally the scene sharpened into something that made no sense at all. Above him stretched a sky the color of freshly spilled blood, swirling with dark clouds that pulsed like living things.
And towering over everything, a massive golden spire cut into the red sky like a blade from some ancient god — tall, gleaming, and impossibly arrogant, its shine visible even through the haze.
"…What?"
Memories surged back brutally, slamming into his mind with the force of the truck that had… yes, smashed into him. The giant vehicle, headlights blinding. The rush of fear. The impact he couldn't escape. And yet—
He was here. Somehow alive.
Razan let out a breathless, tired laugh.
"So… Truck-kun really went and isekai'd me. It actually happened."
He pushed himself up slowly, legs wobbly, body trembling from both shock and confusion. The city around him stretched in strange, chaotic directions — buildings crooked and twisted, streets broken and rearranged like a puzzle done wrong. And the people…
Humanoid, but not human. Not remotely.
Some had ears like foxes, scales, claws, wings, glowing eyes; some looked stitched together; others had shapes that he couldn't properly describe even if he tried.
"I've definitely seen this somewhere before…" he muttered, squinting as he turned in a slow circle. "Some animation… some show… Come on brain, don't fail me now. I need to remember before someone decides I'd make a good snack."
Then, out of nowhere, a metallic chime rang inside his skull.
[System rebooting… 1%… 29%… 80%… 100%]
Good morning, Host.
Razan froze, blinked twice, then crossed his arms like someone who'd seen this trope a thousand times.
"Oh, a system. Perfect. Just what my isekai package needed. Good to see you're working, buddy… but okay, seriously, where did we end up?"
The system responded in an offended tone.
You… aren't curious about me?
"Bro, I'm an otaku. Systems are like Tuesdays to me. I only wanna know in what nightmare you dropped me."
…Damn fanfics ruined all our sense of dramatic impact.
There was a brief processing pause.
Host, I have two pieces of news: one good, one bad. Which would you prefer first?
Razan breathed in deeply.
"Give me the bad one."
We fell into the world of Hazbin Hotel. Possibly mixed with other works.
Silence. Three whole seconds of pure disbelief.
"…You're telling me we're in the world where angels and demons murder each other for breakfast… where angels do a yearly genocide run… where sinners are mutated human garbage… where like 10% of the population isn't a cannibalistic psychopath… and you expect me to stay CALM?"
Yes.
Razan dragged his hand down his face.
"Fine… what's the good news?"
The system seemed to swell with pride.
I am a Model System. Any fictional 2D character you know, you can obtain their model — powers, lineage, even partial memories. Training and behavior will increase your synchronization rate.
Razan's expression shifted instantly into relief.
"Perfect. As long as you don't throw Conan at me, I'll manage. Open the pack."
Analyzing the world's threat level… Increasing rare model chances…
Congratulations, Host: Model acquired — Acnologia.
Razan's eyes widened.
"The Dragon of Destruction… yeah, okay. As long as I'm not stupid enough to pick a fight with Lucifer, I should be fine."
I recommend fusing now. You will experience extreme pain and no longer be human afterward, so find a secluded area. This is Hell… we don't want interruptions.
Razan hurried into the nearest alley, heart pounding.
"Let's get this over with before something—"
Pain exploded through his body before he could finish. Flesh burning, bones cracking, muscles reshaping violently. He bit down on his lip so hard he tasted blood, but he refused to scream. Minutes dragged on like hours — and then, about an hour into the agony, he heard footsteps at the alley entrance.
"Oh come on… cliché-level nonsense…" he whispered through clenched teeth. "Why do problems always show up at the worst possible—"
Two thugs entered the alley, their eyes gleaming with intentions that were far from friendly. Razan tried to move, but his half-transformed body refused to cooperate. Just as panic surged in his chest, a hand yanked him back.
"Shut up, idiot, unless you wanna die," a low, irritated voice hissed.
Razan turned — and froze.
A wolf-girl stood there, covering his mouth with one hand. Small, scruffy fur, intense eyes. Young but fierce. He recognized her instantly.
Loona. And she was still a kid.
They stayed hidden behind a dumpster until the baddies eventually lost interest and wandered off. Only when the coast was clear did she release him.
Razan exhaled shakily.
"Thanks for the help. I owe you one. If you ever need anything, just call me."
Loona raised an eyebrow at him, unimpressed.
"And what exactly is a little brat like you gonna do to help?"
It was only then Razan realized: his body had changed. He wasn't just partially transformed — he was a child. A tiny, miniature Acnologia. Cute, harmless-looking, nothing intimidating whatsoever.
Loona shrugged as she turned away.
"I did my good deed of the day. You're on your own." She walked off without looking back.
Razan groaned in frustration.
"I only wanted to ask for some information…"
He stretched, feeling new muscles settle into place — smoother, stronger, yet strangely light.
"Alright… I'll go find some NPC-thugs to get money. With 20% Acnologia, I should be able to stay under the radar."
With that plan in mind, he started walking deeper into Hell's twisted maze of alleys — completely unaware that fate would soon drag him back to that same wolf-girl again.