I had died once.
It was not a vague memory or some half-forgotten dream that had grown distorted with time. I remembered it vividly. Painfully vividly. The memory had never dulled, never softened around the edges the way most memories eventually did. No matter how much time passed, that moment remained sharp and clear in my mind, as if it had been carved into my thoughts and refused to fade.
I could still remember the exact moment my life ended.
The sensation of death itself was something I could recall with unsettling clarity. It had not come all at once like some dramatic instant where everything simply stopped. Instead, it had crept in slowly, quietly pulling me away from the world piece by piece.
First there had been the warmth. The warmth of blood as it trailed down my body, thick and sticky as it soaked through my clothes. I remembered pressing my hand against my chest in confusion, my fingers quickly becoming slick as they tried to hold back something that simply would not stop flowing. There had also been that strange heat spreading through my chest. At first I thought it was pain, but it was different from what I expected. It was a slow, rising warmth that seemed to come from somewhere deep inside my body, as if something within me had begun to burn.
I had been shot.
Even now the thought felt strange.
There had been nothing dramatic about the moment leading up to it. I had simply been walking to school like I always did. The morning had been ordinary in the most painfully mundane way imaginable. Cars passed by on the street. People walked along the sidewalks while talking on their phones. Someone somewhere was arguing loudly about something trivial. The city had been alive with its usual rhythm, the quiet chaos of daily life continuing without interruption.
Then a bullet struck me. I never even heard the gunshot. It had been a stray round, fired somewhere far away from the life I had been living. Some distant argument, some pointless act of violence that had nothing to do with me at all. The bullet had never been meant for me. I had simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time.
I remembered the moment my legs gave out beneath me. One second I had been standing, the next the world tilted violently as my body collapsed onto the pavement. My knees struck the ground first before the rest of me followed, my hands scraping against the rough concrete as I tried to catch myself, but I couldn't. The strength had already begun to leave my body.
I remembered staring upward as I lay there on the ground. The sky above me had been strangely bright that day, an endless stretch of blue that felt almost mocking in that moment. It was such a beautiful morning, completely indifferent to the fact that someone was dying beneath it. The sounds of the city slowly began to fade. Voices that had once been clear turned distant and distorted, like echoes drifting through water. Someone shouted. Footsteps rushed closer. A car horn blared somewhere in the distance. But it all sounded far away.
My body grew heavier with every passing second. It felt as if gravity itself had begun pressing down on me, making even the smallest movement impossible. Breathing became difficult. Each breath felt shallow and incomplete, as if my lungs had forgotten how to properly draw in air. Then, eventually, even that stopped.
And everything went dark.
Yet somehow, impossibly, I had opened my eyes again.
I stared down at my reflection in the surface of the water before me, the rippling surface distorting the image slightly and turning the face staring back at me into something that almost looked unfamiliar. It had been a few days since I regained the memories of my past life, and with each passing moment the situation had only become clearer.
The face staring back at me was one I recognized, yet at the same time it felt strange to see it as my own. It was younger than the face I remembered dying with, perhaps two or maybe four years younger than I had been when my previous life ended. Long white hair fell over my shoulder in a loose braid, and golden eyes stared back at me from the reflection. Across my orangish tan skin were black markings that traced their way along my neck and up across my face like strange arcane patterns etched directly into my flesh.
The clothing I wore only made the situation feel more surreal. The robes were elaborate, old in style yet clearly crafted from fine materials, the sort of attire one would expect from an ancient noble. Or perhaps more accurately, a king.
My gaze lingered on the reflection for another moment before realization quietly settled in my mind.
It was the face of Solomon from Fate Grand Order.
More specifically, it was Solomon Goetia.
The markings across my skin were the clearest indication of that fact. The original Solomon had never possessed them, but Goetia had. They were subtle but unmistakable to anyone familiar with the difference, which unfortunately included me. My eyes lowered slightly as I glanced down at my hand where a single ring rested on my finger. That alone confirmed what I had already begun to suspect.
It also explained something else.
The abnormal combat knowledge that had appeared in my mind the moment my memories returned.
Slowly I raised my hand, words leaving my lips in a brief murmur, spoken so quickly that it was unlikely anything short of a Divine Spirit could have followed them. The incantation came from instinct rather than conscious thought, drawn from fragments of knowledge that now existed within my mind.
They were not truly my memories. They were more like distant echoes. I had not actually experienced Goetia's life. Instead what remained within me were fragments, flashes of understanding tied to magecraft, power, and function rather than emotion or personal experience. It was less like remembering another life and more like recalling instructions that had been engraved directly into my mind.
The air around my hand quickly grew colder as the magecraft activated. Ice formed above my palm, crystallizing rapidly into jagged shards that hovered briefly before dropping to the ground with soft cracking sounds. I watched the frost for a moment in silence.
It had already been a few days since I began wandering through this forest. Those days had been spent adjusting to everything that had happened. Adjusting to the sudden flood of knowledge in my mind, adjusting to the reality that my previous life had ended, and adjusting to the uncomfortable understanding that the person I had been no longer truly existed.
It had taken time, but my thoughts had finally settled.
My knowledge of magecraft itself was perfectly intact. The theory, the structure, the way spells were formed and executed all felt natural to me. My output however was another matter entirely. To say it was terrible compared to Goetia at his peak would be an understatement.
That was not to say I was weak.
Far from it.
By most standards I was still a competent mage. But comparing my current abilities to the original being whose knowledge I carried was like comparing a small flame to the sun itself.
The ice slowly dissipated from my hand as the spell faded away. I straightened slightly as I stood up, brushing the faint frost from my fingers before lifting my gaze toward the sky visible through the gaps in the forest canopy.
I still didn't know where I was.
What I did know was that this wasn't Earth. At least not humanity's Earth. The magical energy in the air alone made that obvious. The environment felt closer to descriptions of the Age of Gods than anything resembling the modern world.
If anything, it felt like some kind of extra dimensional layer of Earth, something similar to how Heaven or Hell might have manifested during the Age of Gods.
Unfortunately that realization did little to improve my situation.
This child's body clearly limited my abilities. My magical circuits were underdeveloped, my physical condition immature, and my overall output restricted by the simple fact that this body had not yet fully grown.
Which meant the situation was rather simple.
I had no idea where I was.
And I was weaker than I should have been.
I let out a quiet sigh as I looked up at the sky.
"How annoying."
The words slipped from my lips in a quiet sigh, but the moment the sound faded my senses caught something else. A presence. It was faint, subtle, but unmistakable. My gaze slowly shifted toward a cluster of bushes several meters away, my golden eyes narrowing slightly as I focused on the disturbance within the surrounding magical flow. Someone was there, watching.
"Reveal yourself," I said simply.
My tone wasn't threatening, nor particularly loud, yet the authority behind the words was clear. For a brief moment nothing happened. The bushes rustled faintly, the movement betraying whoever had been hiding there. I could sense hesitation, as if they were debating whether to flee or obey. Eventually the leaves parted and a girl stepped out.
She looked young, likely only slightly younger than the body I currently possessed. Her hair was white, styled in a rather distinctive way. The front had two long bangs that extended past her shoulders while several loose strands hung across her forehead, but the back was cut into a short bob that framed her face neatly. On either side of her head were small black hair clips shaped like cats.
Her golden eyes locked onto mine the moment she stepped fully out from the bushes.
"You're in Gremory territory," she said.
Her voice was steady, but her pupils had narrowed sharply and the tension in her posture was obvious. Her shoulders were stiff and her stance balanced carefully, as if she was prepared to react at any moment. She was wary of me.
"The Gremory territory?" I repeated, raising an eyebrow slightly. The name stirred a thought in my mind. Gremory. Was she referring to the demon pillar? My gaze lingered on her as I examined her presence more carefully. Her aura was unusual. At first glance it resembled that of an oni, possessing the same sort of raw demonic vitality, yet something about it was different. Another layer existed beneath it, something distinctly demonic yet not quite the same as an oni's nature.
Interesting.
She nodded but gave no further explanation, clearly not intending to elaborate.
"The demon?" I asked calmly. "If so, that is irrelevant. My being should be easily recognizable."
The statement was less arrogance and more simple fact. If this world possessed beings familiar with the seventy-two pillars, then the nature of my existence should not have been difficult to identify.
Before the girl could respond, something else interrupted. A crimson magic circle suddenly appeared in the air between us. My gaze shifted toward it immediately. The structure of the circle was complex, layered with rotating symbols and geometric patterns that shifted slowly within one another. The magical signature was unmistakably inhuman.
Which made the conclusion obvious.
It wasn't magecraft developed by humanity.
It had to be something derived from either a powerful Phantasmal species or an elemental lineage. Only such beings possessed magical systems that differed so distinctly from human magecraft.
The circle flashed brightly before fading away, and when the light disappeared several figures now stood where it had been. They were all roughly the same age as the body I currently possessed.
At the front stood a girl with long crimson hair that flowed down her back like a river of fire. Her eyes were a vivid blue, sharp and intelligent, though currently filled with cautious wariness as they studied me. Behind her stood another girl with long black hair and violet eyes, her expression calmer but her eyes still carrying a quiet intensity. Beside them stood a blond-haired boy with blue eyes and a small beauty mark beneath one eye.
Yet my attention settled almost immediately on the red-haired girl.
She was familiar.
Not from the fragments of knowledge left behind by Goetia, but from my previous life. I knew I had seen her somewhere before, yet the exact memory refused to surface no matter how I searched for it.
More importantly, something else became clear the moment she appeared.
A connection.
My gaze lingered on her quietly as I examined the flow of power within her body.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
She carried the blood of two pillars.
She was studying me as well, though her gaze was far more cautious.
"You're in Gremory territory," she said again, her tone firmer. "I'd like to ask you to leave."
Her voice was confident, yet a subtle tension lingered beneath it. Her posture remained composed, but the stiffness in her shoulders betrayed her discomfort.
She was wary of my presence.
"I'm afraid that may be difficult," I replied calmly. "I happen to be lost, so I was unaware that I had wandered into anyone's territory." I extended my hand toward her casually. "But if this truly belongs to the Gremory, then I should be welcomed rather than turned away."
The moment my hand moved forward I saw the group tense. Their magical energy shifted slightly, their bodies preparing to react if necessary.
"You carry the blood of both Gremory and Bael," I continued evenly. "Do you not?"
For the first time her composure faltered. Her eyes widened slightly before she quickly regained control.
"You're correct," she said after a brief pause. "I am Rias Gremory, heir of the Gremory clan."
Her words caused a faint frown to appear on my face.
"You're... an heir?" I murmured.
That didn't make sense. She didn't recognize me, and more importantly her existence itself felt strange. She clearly carried the essence of a demon god pillar within her bloodline, yet her form was incomplete. It didn't resemble a vessel or container meant to house a pillar either.
Which raised an obvious question.
Why did she look like this?
"I'd like to speak to Gremory," I said, though even as the words left my mouth I felt no connection to the pillar within this world.
"Gremory?" she asked with a slight frown. "Do you mean the head of the house?"
I nodded slowly. That wasn't what I meant at all, but if she interpreted it that way then the implication was obvious. The pillar itself was either dead... or something else had happened.
"I can't allow that," she said firmly. "You're a nameless stranger."
Some of the earlier confidence returned to her voice as she spoke.
"This is the final time I'll ask you to leave."
I sighed quietly.
"How foolish."