Hi. I'm Alex. You might remember me from such classic hits as "The Orphan Who Didn't Get a Hug" or the critically acclaimed "Test Subject #412: Why Does My Brain Smell Like Toasted Almonds?"
Yeah, that was me.
My life was a glamorous whirlwind of skipping school, binge-watching anime until my eyes bled, and reading manga in the back of libraries I wasn't technically allowed in. Peak performance, right?
Then, the government officials—specifically the kind with "shady" in their job descriptions—decided orphans were the perfect biological Legos. They shoved a high-tech chip named Sera into my gray matter and turned me into a pint-sized killing machine. Obey the voice in your head, or get your synapses fried like a cheap corn dog at a state fair.
Most of the kids in the program checked out early. I stayed. I survived. I was the star pupil of the "Please Don't Kill Me" class.
And then, I died anyway. Irony: 1, Alex: 0.
…And now I'm a Prince.
Seriously. Don't ask me how the reincarnation plumbing works; I'm just as confused as you are. One minute I'm bleeding out in a ditch, and the next I'm waking up in a bed that costs more than my previous life's net worth.
I'm in the Leovaris Empire. Fancy name, right? Sounds like a luxury car brand or a heart medication with a long list of terrifying side effects. This world has a very specific brand of "hold my beer" insanity. People here "dive" into the consciousness of beasts in another dimension. You fight, you eat, you evolve, and your human body gets a juicy power boost.
Sounds like a sweet RPG, right? Wrong. It's a literal nightmare simulator.
The previous occupant of this body—let's call him Prince Sad-Sack—managed to link himself to an ant.
A freaking ant. Six legs, two antennae, and a lifespan that's basically a rounding error.
Poor kid died over and over again in there until his brain basically turned into lukewarm gazpacho. His mind snapped like a dry twig under a boot. Honestly? Relatable. I've had those Mondays.
And now, guess who's driving the bus?
"…Sera?" I thought.
[Affirmative.]
Of course. She's still here. She's like that one ex-girlfriend who follows you to a different dimension just to tell you you're doing the laundry wrong. Guess those military scientists touched something deeper than just my neurons or the reincarnation mechanic did. They integrated her into my very soul. Lucky me.
I exhaled slowly, staring at my new, dainty prince-hands.
"Well," I muttered, a jagged, cynical grin spreading across my face. "I wanted a new life. I wanted adventure."
I looked into the vanity mirror. I looked like a Barbie doll, but behind my eyes, Sera's tactical HUD was already flickering to life.
"I just didn't think I'd start at the absolute bottom of the food chain. I'm not even a cool bug, like a scorpion or a praying mantis. I'm a picnic-ruiner."
I cracked my knuckles.
"Alright, universe. You want me to be a bug? Fine. But I'm going to be the biggest, meanest, most radioactive-tasting bug you've ever seen. Let's see how long this reboot lasts before the writers cancel me."