Tap. Tap. Tap.
Keys clicked rapidly as a teenage boy stared at the glowing screen in front of him. The room was dark, lit only by the monitor and the faint LED lights of his keyboard.
He leaned back in his chair, eyes flicking across the screen as characters clashed in a blur of color and effects.
His mouse moved. Click.
"Take the enemy on the left. I'll protect the control center."
His voice was calm. Focused.
The match was Marvel Rivals. Another round. Another win, if things went right.
"I see Jeff," he added, eyes narrowing slightly as he tracked movement on-screen.
His fingers danced again. Tap. Tap.
Everything felt normal.
Too normal.
He stretched his arms and let out a small breath, glancing at the clock in the corner of his screen.
Late. Again.
'One more match,' he thought. 'Then I sleep.'
The game ended. Victory splashed across the screen.
He smiled.
Leaning back, he cracked his neck and looked at his desktop—icons scattered everywhere. Games. Mods. Saves. Countless worlds he'd died in and beaten again.
Out of boredom, he muttered, "If I got reborn… what world would I even choose?"
His fingers hovered over the keyboard.
"Something I know," he said quietly. "Something I can survive."
He opened a blank text file. Typed without thinking.
Dark Souls.
Then paused.
Backspaced once.
Typed again.
Black Souls.
He frowned. "Huh. Weird."
Before he could correct it, a sharp pain hit his chest.
He froze.
The mouse slipped from his hand and hit the desk with a dull clack.
His vision blurred.
"What the—"
Pain exploded through his body. His heart hammered once… twice… then skipped.
He tried to breathe. Couldn't.
The room tilted.
The screen went dark.
And then—
Cold.
He gasped.
His eyes snapped open.
He was lying on stone.
Not his room. Not his chair. Not his world.
A black sky stretched endlessly above him, cracked by red light. The air smelled of rust and blood.
His body felt wrong. Heavy. Hollow.
He slowly raised his hand.
Pale. Scarred. Not shaking.
'…I'm alive?'
No.
He knew better.
A distant bell rang.
And somewhere, deep inside him, a quiet certainty settled in.
'This isn't Dark Souls.'
His fingers curled against the stone.
'…This is Black Souls.'
He looked around.
The sky was wrong.
Black. Cracked. Veins of red light pulsed through it like something alive.
His eyes widened. He took a step back—
And the world shifted.
Shelves rose around him. Endless rows of books. A quiet, heavy silence.
"A… library?"
He turned in place, confused, until something floated in front of him.
A screen.
[Name]
He froze.
'…Wait. I recognize this.'
A translucent keyboard appeared beneath the text, hovering in the air. Slowly, carefully, he reached out and pressed the keys.
[Ichirou]
The letters locked in.
Another screen appeared.
Choose
[Knight]
[Sorcerer]
[Thief]
He didn't hesitate.
Click.
[Thief]
A new window opened.
Choose an item
[Master Key]
[Life Ring]
[Candy]
[Divine Blessings]
His eyes narrowed.
'No contest.'
Click.
[Master Key]
Ichirou stared at the floating screens.
"…It's like the start of the game."
For a moment, he almost laughed.
Then the library began to crack.
The shelves twisted. The books dissolved into ash. The screens shattered like glass.
The world broke apart.
"Wait—"
He shut his eyes as everything collapsed.
Clang.
Cold stone pressed against his back.
[Insert image of Grimm here]
Ichirou opened his eyes.
Bars.
A small, dark jail cell.
"…What?"
He pushed himself up, his movements heavy. Wrong. He looked down at his arm.
Metal.
Black armour covered it, etched with strange patterns. It felt natural. Too natural.
'That wasn't there before.'
He lifted his head.
Outside the cell stood two guards, silent and unmoving. Their armor looked old. Dull. Stained.
Not NPC-idle.
Watching.
Ichirou swallowed.
'…Okay.'
'This is definitely not a tutorial anymore.'
Ichirou looked at the guards.
They stared back through the bars.
One of them tilted its head slightly.
"What's the matter, Grimm?"
Ichirou didn't answer.
He just looked at it.
Silent. Still.
The guard shifted. Uneasy.
Slowly, Ichirou raised his hands to his helmet. His fingers hooked under the edge. He lifted it—
Then stopped.
After a moment, he lowered it back into place.
'So… I can take it off.'
Good to know.
He glanced around the cell, calm on the surface.
'If this really follows the game…'
'She should arrive now.'
Footsteps echoed down the corridor.
Light followed.
A young woman stepped into view.
Golden hair. Blue eyes. A slender frame wrapped in knight's armor that looked far too clean for this place.
[Insert image of Jeanne]
One of the guards barked, "Who are you?!"
She didn't answer.
She moved.
Steel flashed.
The first guard was cut down before it could finish the word. The second rushed her—
And fell just as fast.
Their bodies hit the ground with dull, final sounds.
Jeanne turned and walked toward Ichirou's cell.
She stopped in front of him, studying him through the bars.
"You are a strange undead," she said.
Her eyes lingered on him longer than necessary.
"…There is still light left in your eyes."
She reached out and unlocked the cell. The door creaked open.
"If you hear the voice of God," she said quietly, "move your feet and bring light."
Then she turned away.
Her footsteps faded.
Silence returned.
Ichirou stood there for a moment.
Then he stepped out of the cell.
The armor moved with him easily, like it had always been his. A sword lay nearby. He picked it up, testing the weight.
Familiar.
He looked down the row of cells.
'Right.'
'Loot first.'
He moved toward the others, eyes sharp, already searching for anything useful.
Ichirou searched the cell.
In the corner, something faintly green flickered.
A soul.
He picked it up, and it dissolved into him.
'Green Soul… healing.'
"This will come in handy," he said quietly.
The other cells held nothing useful. Empty. Broken. Forgotten.
He moved on.
His steps were quick. Lighter than they should've been, even with the armor.
There was a reason he had chosen Thief.
Ahead, a Dog-Man guard leaned against the wall, asleep. Its breathing was slow and uneven.
Ichirou passed by—
Clang.
The heavy armor betrayed him.
The guard snapped awake.
"Hey! You!"
Too late.
Ichirou moved without thinking. Steel met steel.
He parried the strike and stepped in, his blade cutting clean through the guard's body.
The corpse fell apart.
"…That was easy."
Souls rose from the body—ten of them—drifting like pale lights before sinking into him.
This world was strange. Even death felt quiet.
He looked down at the body.
"Sorry, dude," he said. "You attacked first."
No answer.
He moved on.
Jeanne was waiting for him.
"There you are."
She studied him for a moment, then blinked.
"…I see. You can speak."
Silence followed.
Jeanne straightened and bowed deeply.
"My apologies."
Ichirou lifted a hand slightly. She rose at once.
She turned and began walking. "My name is Jeanne d'Arc. I hail from Orléans."
She paused only briefly before continuing.
"The world is in turmoil. A fog spreads from the castle of the Lost Empire. Humans caught within it turn into demon beasts."
"I see," Ichirou said.
'Yeah. I know.'
He looked at her. "So why are you here?"
Jeanne didn't stop walking.
"To investigate."
She continued down the corridor, her steps steady and calm.
Ichirou watched her go.
'Just like the game.'
For now.
Ichirou watched Jeanne head deeper into the castle as he explored the rest of the area.
He moved through the grass outside, crouching to gather medical herbs. Every enemy that crossed his path met the same end—parry, strike, silence.
Their souls flowed into him.
Easy.
Too easy.
He climbed higher, avoiding unnecessary fights. At the top, something blue shimmered near the wall.
A soul.
He picked it up.
'Blue Soul. Defense.'
Good.
He moved up the stairs—and Jeanne was there again, matching his pace.
Together, they turned left and arrived at the edge of Fort Ivern.
They stopped.
The wind blew hard. Jeanne's hair flowed freely as she stared out over the land.
"The wind is eerie here," she said.
She glanced at him. "Even now, countless people suffer, turned into demon beasts. It is my duty to end them."
Ichirou met her gaze.
"I see," he said. "You want my strength."
She turned fully toward him and smiled.
"Yes. Because even an undead can become a hero."
She extended her hand.
"Will you join me?"
Ichirou didn't hesitate.
He knelt, just as he remembered from the game.
"I will."
Jeanne smiled and took his hand, pulling him up.
"Very well," she said softly. "It seems the gods are watching over us."
Her smile was gentle. Hopeful.
"Well then," she said, turning away. "Let us hurry."
She took a step—
Whoosh.
A sound like thunder tearing the sky apart.
Ichirou's eyes widened.
Wings.
He looked up.
A massive dragon loomed overhead, its shadow swallowing the ground beneath them. Its mouth opened, fire gathering inside.
'…Wait.'
'This—'
The flames came down.
Jeanne didn't even have time to turn.
Fire engulfed her completely.
She screamed.
The sound cut off too fast.
Then—
Silence.
The flames faded.
Where she had stood, there was nothing left.
Only ash scattered across the stone.
Ichirou didn't move.
His sword slipped slightly in his grip.
'…I forgot.'
'This cutscene.'
The wind blew again.
And for the first time since arriving in this world—
Ichirou felt something break.
The ash scattered across the stone.
And Jeanne d'Arc was gone.
To be continued
Hope people like this ch and give me power stones and enjoy, ok I don't know how well this fic well do, I am uploading this so I can find more Black Souls Fan, I have plans for these but don't know how far well it go