Takeshi Yamamoto was having the worst day of his life—and that was saying something for a 24-year-old whose existence had been a monotonous cycle of corporate drudgery and loneliness.
The fluorescent lights of the convenience store buzzed overhead as he grabbed his usual dinner: instant ramen, a can of coffee, and a chocolate bar he'd probably eat for breakfast. His reflection in the glass door mocked him—disheveled black hair, dark circles under his brown eyes, and a cheap suit that had seen better days. Three years out of university, and this was all he had to show for it.
"That'll be 680 yen," the clerk said without looking up from her phone.
Takeshi handed over the exact change and shuffled toward the exit, his plastic bag rustling in the quiet store. Outside, Tokyo's neon-lit streets were alive with Friday night energy—couples laughing, groups of friends heading to karaoke, salarymen stumbling toward their next bar. He was invisible among them, just another faceless nobody going home to an empty apartment.
The crosswalk light turned green. Takeshi stepped off the curb, lost in his thoughts about the weekend he'd spend alone playing video games. He didn't hear the scream. Didn't see the truck that had lost its brakes barreling toward the intersection.
He only felt the impact.
Then everything went white.
"Oh no. Oh no, no, no, no!"
The voice was feminine, panicked, and somehow both ethereal and adorable at the same time. Takeshi's consciousness floated in an endless white void, his thoughts sluggish and confused. Was he dead? That seemed like the logical conclusion, given the truck-shaped hole in his last memory.
"This wasn't supposed to happen! You weren't supposed to die for another forty-three years!" The voice grew closer, and suddenly Takeshi could see her.
She was breathtaking.
Long silver hair cascaded down to her waist, shimmering like starlight. Her eyes were a vivid violet, wide with distress and rimmed with tears. She wore a flowing white dress that seemed to be made of clouds and light itself, the fabric clinging to curves that would make any man's heart race. The dress had a daringly low neckline, and Takeshi found his gaze drawn there before he could stop himself.
"My eyes are up here!" she snapped, her cheeks flushing pink.
"S-sorry!" Takeshi stammered, though he wasn't entirely sure how he was talking without a body. "Who... what are you?"
"I'm Celestia, a goddess of the Divine Reincarnation Department," she said, wringing her hands. "And I've made a terrible, terrible mistake."
Takeshi blinked. Or at least, he had the sensation of blinking. "A mistake?"
"I was processing reincarnation requests, and I got distracted by this really cute cat video—irrelevant, sorry—and I accidentally approved a soul extraction for the wrong person. That truck was meant for a criminal three blocks over, but I..." She trailed off, looking like she might cry. "I sent it to you instead."
"So you killed me," Takeshi said flatly.
"Accidentally!" Celestia protested. "It was an accident! A completely unprecedented administrative error that will probably get me demoted for centuries!" She grabbed his—or where his shoulders would be—and stared at him with desperate eyes. "Please, you have to help me fix this!"
"How am I supposed to help? I'm dead!"
"That's just it!" Celestia brightened slightly. "I can't send you back to Earth—that would require way too much paperwork and divine energy. But I can reincarnate you! In another world! And to make up for my mistake, I'll give you special abilities! It's a win-win!"
Takeshi's mind raced. Another world? Like in those light novels he'd read during his lonely nights? "What kind of other world?"
"Oh, it's wonderful!" Celestia clasped her hands together, and her dress shifted with the movement in a way that made Takeshi's non-existent face heat up. "It's called Aethoria! There's magic, adventure, beautiful landscapes, and—" She paused, her expression turning slightly guilty. "Well, it's also quite dangerous. Demon lords, monsters, political intrigue, that sort of thing."
"And you want to send me there?"
"I'll make you strong! Really strong!" She leaned forward earnestly, giving Takeshi an eyeful of her generous cleavage. "I can give you unique abilities that no one else in that world has! You'll be practically invincible!"
Takeshi considered his options. Return to... what? His soul couldn't go back to his body. And his old life had been pretty miserable anyway. At least in another world, he might have a chance at something different. Something better.
"What kind of abilities are we talking about?"
Celestia's face lit up like a child on Christmas morning. "Oh! Oh! I'm so glad you asked!" She waved her hand, and a glowing screen appeared in the void. "Let's see... I can give you three unique skills. The first is called 'All-Tongue'—you'll be able to speak, read, and write any language perfectly!"
"That's useful," Takeshi admitted.
"The second is 'Goddess's Blessing'—it'll give you enhanced physical abilities, magic affinity, and accelerated growth. You'll learn skills faster than anyone else!" She scrolled through her screen. "And for the third... hmm. Oh! What about 'Eye of Truth'? You'll be able to see through illusions, lies, and hidden information. Plus, it'll let you analyze people's abilities and weaknesses!"
It sounded almost too good to be true. "Is there a catch?"
Celestia bit her lip, and the gesture was so innocently seductive that Takeshi had to force himself to focus on her words instead of her mouth. "Well... you'll start as a baby. Normal reincarnation process. And I can't control where or to whom you'll be born. It's random within the world parameters."
"So I could be born to peasants? Or in the middle of a warzone?"
"Possibly?" Celestia winced. "But with your abilities, you'll survive and thrive regardless! Probably! I think!"
"You're not filling me with confidence here."
"Please!" She grabbed him again, and this time he could definitely feel something, even in his soul form. Her body pressed against him, soft and warm and smelling like cherry blossoms. "If you don't accept, I'll be in so much trouble! They might make me work in the paperwork department for a millennium! Do you know how boring that is?!"
Takeshi sighed. When he put it that way—his miserable old life versus a fantasy world with magic and adventure, plus incredible abilities—the choice was obvious. "Fine. I'll do it."
"Really?!" Celestia squealed and hugged him tighter. Her breasts squished against him, and Takeshi was suddenly very grateful he didn't have a physical body at the moment, or his reaction would have been embarrassing. "Thank you, thank you, thank you! You're my hero!"
"Just... try not to kill anyone else by mistake, okay?"
"I promise I'll be more careful!" She pulled back, beaming at him. "Now, let me set everything up. Oh! One more thing—I'll establish a connection between us. If you ever need guidance or help, just pray to me! I'll be watching over you!"
"Watching over me?" Takeshi asked. "Like... all the time?"
Celestia's cheeks turned pink again. "W-well, not ALL the time. I have other duties. But I'll check in regularly! Think of me as your... your personal goddess!"
Before Takeshi could respond, she pressed her hands together and began to chant in a language that made his soul vibrate. The white void filled with brilliant light, and he felt himself being pulled in a direction he couldn't name.
"Good luck, Takeshi Yamamoto!" Celestia's voice echoed around him. "Live a wonderful life! And don't forget about me!"
The last thing he saw was her radiant smile and a flash of leg as her dress billowed in an otherworldly wind.
Then everything went dark.
Consciousness returned slowly, accompanied by sensations both familiar and utterly foreign. Warmth. Softness. The sound of a heartbeat that wasn't his own. Takeshi tried to open his eyes but found the task surprisingly difficult, as if his eyelids weighed a ton each.
When he finally managed it, the world was a blur of colors and shapes. His vision was terrible—everything was fuzzy and indistinct. He tried to speak, to move, to do anything, but his body wouldn't respond the way he wanted. Instead of words, a cry emerged from his throat.
A baby's cry.
"Oh, he's awake!" A woman's voice, warm and exhausted, spoke in a language Takeshi had never heard before. Yet somehow, thanks to All-Tongue, he understood every word perfectly. "Let me hold him."
Large hands—gentle but firm—lifted him, and suddenly he was staring up at a face. The woman was young, perhaps in her early twenties, with long auburn hair damp with sweat and kind green eyes that sparkled with tears. She was beautiful in an earthy, natural way, and despite her obvious exhaustion, her smile was radiant.
"Hello, my little Ryker," she whispered, cradling him close. "Welcome to the world."
Ryker. So that was his new name. Takeshi—no, Ryker—tried to take stock of the situation. He was indeed a baby, which was going to make things complicated. But at least he had his memories and consciousness intact. That was something.
"He's strong," another voice said. Ryker managed to turn his head slightly—baby neck muscles were frustratingly weak—to see a man standing beside the bed. He was tall and muscular, with short brown hair and a neatly trimmed beard. A sword hung at his hip, and his clothes suggested he was some kind of warrior or soldier. "Look at those eyes. He's already so alert."
"He has your eyes, Marcus," the woman—his mother, Ryker realized—said fondly. "Those sharp gray eyes."
Marcus, Ryker's father, leaned down to stroke his tiny head with a calloused hand. "May he grow strong and wise, Elara. The world will need men of character in the days to come."
There was something ominous in that statement, but before Ryker could contemplate it further, exhaustion overwhelmed him. His infant body demanded sleep, and despite his adult mind's protests, consciousness slipped away.
The first few months were an exercise in frustration and humiliation. Being a baby with an adult's mind was every bit as awkward as Ryker had feared. He couldn't control his bodily functions, couldn't communicate beyond crying, and had to be completely dependent on others for everything. The only saving grace was that Elara and Marcus were loving, attentive parents.
They lived in a modest but sturdy house in a village called Thornhaven. From what Ryker could gather from overheard conversations, it was a frontier settlement in the Kingdom of Astoria, located near the Darkwood Forest. Marcus was the village's guard captain, responsible for protecting the villagers from monsters and bandits. Elara was a healer who grew medicinal herbs in their garden.
Ryker spent his waking hours observing everything he could. The world of Aethoria was indeed magical—he'd seen Elara use healing spells, watched Marcus practice with enchanted weapons, and heard stories of dungeons, dragons, and demon armies in the north. It was like living in a fantasy RPG, and despite the indignities of infancy, excitement bubbled in his chest.
His abilities were already manifesting, even at this young age. The Eye of Truth activated sometimes when he stared at people, showing him floating text that described their basic attributes:
Elara ThornheartLevel: 15Class: Village HealerStatus: Tired, ContentAffection: 100 (Maternal Love)
Marcus ThornheartLevel: 28Class: Guard CaptainStatus: Vigilant, ProudAffection: 95 (Paternal Pride)
The Goddess's Blessing was harder to gauge, but he could feel it working. His body seemed to develop faster than other babies—he could hold his head up earlier, his vision cleared more quickly, and he felt an unusual energy thrumming through his tiny form.
By the time he was six months old, Ryker could sit up on