Another reincarnator in the world of DxD. Completely clueless about the canon, which causes him no end of trouble. Awful personality. Single.
I am a Human after all (DxD)
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I am a Human after all (DxD)
Who wouldn't love effortless rewards? Forget the whole "enjoy the journey" spiel — how about scoring the "Alchemy of Atlas" through sheer luck, or landing Excalibur just for being on good terms with a top-tier waifu?
Sounds like the perfect life, right? Well, almost. The only thing standing between you and true bliss is staying alive long enough to enjoy it — in a world where the real power lies with those at the top of the supernatural food chain... and yeep, that includes boobs.
All in all, it's just another reincarnator in the world of DxD. Completely clueless about the canon, which only brings him more trouble. Awful personality. Single.
Sounds like the perfect life, right? Well, almost. The only thing standing between you and true bliss is staying alive long enough to enjoy it — in a world where the real power lies with those at the top of the supernatural food chain... and yeep, that includes boobs.
All in all, it's just another reincarnator in the world of DxD. Completely clueless about the canon, which only brings him more trouble. Awful personality. Single.
Chapter 1. I'm a reincarnator after all
It was just another day in the life of a reincarnated soul in modern Japan.
The suffocating summer air clung to me, heavy with unbearable heat, like the fiery depths of hell. Behind me, the school I had just fled from loomed, and I had no intention of spending another minute in that soul-crushing place. After all, another day at elementary school had dragged on so painfully that I half-joked to myself about speeding up the process and jumping straight to my third life. To maintain whatever sanity I had left, I bolted from that cursed building as fast as I could.
For someone mentally well into their twenties, it was nothing short of a living nightmare — an endless cycle of disappointment and despair. A student who had been on the verge of completing a thesis in Computer Engineering was now stuck in a classroom where kids were learning how to read. It felt like I'd been sentenced to a class for the mentally impaired... Damn kids! They were more aggravating than anything else. These tiny, snot-nosed brats, who had no sense of personal space or common decency, seemed like demons straight out of hell — little devils let loose on earth! They ran, screamed, squealed, sneezed, and constantly invaded my precious personal bubble.
Annoying as hell!
At least today's torture was over.
"Ugh, this heat is unbearable," I muttered irritably, tugging at the sweat-soaked collar of my shirt.
Oh, and by the way, throw in my immeasurable disappointment with Japan. In my previous life, I had been a huge fan of Japanese culture, but reality turned out to be far from my expectations — just as it always does when dreams clash with harsh reality. My naive visions of cherry blossoms, delicious food, and samurai philosophy had been shattered on the scorching pavement, which, on days like today, was hot enough to cook ramen on if I'd had a pot, some water, and noodles.
Lost in thought, I ran far enough from the school and pulled a book from my bulky backpack, hoping to dispel the negativity that had built up inside me.
Usually, I barely noticed anything when I walked to or from school, distracted by the occasional wandering thought or waiting at a traffic light. The route from school to home was ingrained in my memory by now, so I could walk it blindfolded if I needed to. But today was different. Today, memories flooded back, unbidden.
My name was... Well, it doesn't really matter anymore. I wouldn't need my old name again. I had been a fourth-year university student. That fateful evening — no, night — I was nearly done writing my thesis. Like any "normal" student, I had left everything until the last couple of weeks, cramming most of the work into those final, frantic days. By that night, I hadn't slept in over twenty-four hours.
I remember the moment I realized I was out of coffee. I headed down to the 7-Eleven to grab another pack, my mind foggy from exhaustion, barely paying attention to anything around me. As a result, I didn't see the car speeding toward me — or maybe I did, and my sleep-deprived brain just didn't register it. The next thing I knew, there were headlights, then the impact... The bastard who hit me didn't even bother to brake, despite me crossing at a pedestrian walkway. Probably some rich official's spoiled brat. But none of that mattered now.
My next memory was of a cautious touch, blurry images before my eyes, and indistinct whispers echoing in my ears. As I would later learn, infants up to two or three months old don't see clearly — they only perceive vague shapes that often frighten them. At the time, I thought it was all either an incredibly long dream or the delirium of a dying man — or more precisely, the hallucinations of someone in a vegetative state, which is surely what I would have become had I survived.
That's why, when I finally opened my eyes one day and clearly saw the face of my new mother, I felt such an overwhelming wave of joy and peace that I burst into tears. Those were my first tears in this new life.
Coming to terms with being in the body of a child, in a new life, a new family, and, as it would later turn out, a new world, was shocking at first. But I adapted fairly quickly. After all, if there's one advantage to being an infant, it's the abundance of time to fully comprehend and accept your situation.
What's more, I was content with my new family, which consisted of four people: two parents, an older daughter, and a younger son — me.
My sweet, tomboyish older sister constantly clung to me as if I were her favorite birthday doll. It wasn't all that bad, really, especially considering I had been an only child in my past life. This shift in family dynamics was actually rather pleasant.
However, my mom and dad were too strange to be considered normal parents. Honestly, they felt like they came from two completely different worlds. My father was, for lack of a better word, an ordinary man — a middle-aged lawyer with a plain appearance and the rather average dream of "becoming successful."
My mother, on the other hand, was his complete opposite — an eccentric woman who did whatever she pleased, without a second thought for social norms or what others might think. This made her, at the very least, complicated, and at worst, downright terrifying. Even so, she was a decent mother — far better at parenting than my father, to be honest.
In short, they were an odd couple.
After getting acquainted with my family, I began exploring the world around me. Now, at six years old, it's 2004. It's the same Earth as in the early 2000s: the rapid rise of the internet and technology, button phones and landlines, bulky desktop computers. It's a time when playing outside was still far more interesting and "cooler" than staying indoors. For me, it could have been a wonderful time, if not for the damned little brats society calls children. And, of course, it annoyed me to no end that this world lacked so much of the manga and anime I loved, which could have at least helped me pass the time!
"At least some familiar books made it here," I thought, spotting the cover of Stephen King's "It".
All in all, my new life was full of contradictions and contrasts. My old world already felt so distant and unreal compared to this one, with new discoveries and experiences almost every day. Eventually, I found myself fully settling into life as Houtarou Oreki — the name I had been given in this second life.
My sister was always dragging me outside to play, and I could never refuse her, even though it completely derailed my plans to quietly get through the day without interacting with the hellspawn. My parents, each in their own way, tried to raise me. While my mother was too eccentric and self-centered to be the perfect mom, she still cared about me. My father, on the other hand, was often away on business trips, too busy to notice much of what was happening at home. His presence in my life was minimal at best.
One thought led to another, and before I knew it, I was home. Quietly, I slipped through the door, trying to make as little noise as possible to avoid running into my mother. As I kicked off my shoes, I heard singing coming from the kitchen. I'm not sure why, but today I had an overwhelming urge to peek inside — something I usually wouldn't do, as it almost certainly led to getting caught and scolded.
"Sometimes it feels like my mom has eyes on the back of her head," I thought as I tiptoed toward the kitchen.
And then… my mind went blank. I froze in place, dumbfounded by the scene before me.
How would you feel if you found out that all the women in your family were witches?
Some people might be ecstatic, eager to dive into the possibility of mastering magic. Others might sink into despair, feeling like they'd never truly belong to a world that's so close yet impossibly far. As for me?
[You've uncovered the secret of the women in the Oreki family!]
[New achievement — "Witch Craft Works"]
I gawked at the semi-transparent screen that had suddenly appeared before me. My eyes then shifted back to the scene in the kitchen, which seemed too bizarre to be real. My mother and sister were singing a simple children's song, their voices harmonizing perfectly, creating a warm and cozy family atmosphere. Their hands moved as if conducting an invisible orchestra, their graceful gestures giving the whole scene the feel of a surreal dance.
But the real magic? That was something else entirely. Floating around them, as if enchanted, were all sorts of kitchen utensils. Spoons, forks, knives, and pots drifted through the air, obeying invisible commands. A bright purple flame flickered on the stove, its fire almost alive as it wrapped itself around the pots, casting a soft glow throughout the kitchen. The light created strange, mesmerizing shadows on the walls, making it seem as if the entire room had a life of its own.
At the heart of it all was my mother. Her long chestnut hair cascaded over her shoulders, and the sight of her calm, focused face from the side was captivating. Don't get the wrong idea — I only felt a son's love for her. Strictly a son's love. Nothing Freudian, okay?
Anyway, I digress. My mother's movements were confident and fluid, like she'd been doing this her whole life. Beside her was my sister, mimicking every one of Mom's gestures. Her young face was lit up with excitement, joy, satisfaction, and curiosity.
I, on the other hand, stood frozen at the kitchen doorway, unable to utter a single word. My gaze dropped to the book I'd been reading before I got home. The lines seemed almost eerily fitting for this exact moment: "Kids, fiction is the truth inside the lie, and the truth of this fiction is simple enough: magic exists." Even now, Stephen fucking King had nailed it.
Unfortunately, before I could process what was happening, my sister spotted me. Her eyes widened in shock, and her face twisted with nervousness. She opened and closed her mouth like a fish, clearly trying to say something. At that moment, probably due to her losing focus, a few of the kitchen utensils — just a small part of the total number floating around — crashed to the floor with a loud clatter.
That finally grabbed my mother's attention. Following my sister's gaze, she turned and noticed me as well.
My mother, Mikoto Oreki, was… a rather peculiar woman, to say the least. Cynical, domineering, and fiercely independent, she always gave me mixed feelings. Honestly, I still can't figure out how my father managed to get a woman like her into bed, and even more surprisingly, at least twice.
She barely glanced at me before her eyes flicked to the clock. Realizing I had once again ditched school early, she frowned irritably and fixed me with a look. The clear threat in her eyes made it obvious that I wouldn't get off so easily this time.
I'd skipped the last classes more times than I could count and usually shrugged off her complaints, justifying it with my intelligence and the fact that I was bored out of my mind in school — which, to be fair, was true, and she knew it. Despite always pretending to be thoroughly displeased, my mom never really scolded me, understanding that I was far from the average elementary school kid who ate boogers and cried over every little thing. But this time… this time felt different.
Her eyes locked onto mine with a piercing intensity, the tension thick in the air. Her usual calm, composed demeanor was gone, replaced by a silent but unmistakable anger. She didn't say a word, but her silence was more unsettling than anything she could've said. The atmosphere felt like the calm before a storm.
"Ahem," I cleared my throat awkwardly, scrambling for something to say. Failing to come up with anything remotely "appropriate," I decided to go with humor: "I hope what you're cooking here is a tasty dinner and not… a love potion?"
Mom's eyes narrowed, her brows knitting together, giving her an even more menacing look. I quickly realized my attempt to lighten the mood with a joke had backfired spectacularly. So, without waiting for a response, I took a step back, then another, moving as calmly as I could toward the staircase that led to the second floor. I wasn't exactly rushing, but I definitely wasn't lingering either. Somehow, no one stopped me…
Quietly closing my bedroom door behind me, I tossed my backpack aside and placed the book on my desk. Then I flopped onto the bed, my mind racing as I replayed the last few minutes. I nervously rubbed the bridge of my nose by my thumb and forefinger.
"What the hell just happened?" I muttered, staring blankly up at the ceiling.
Ten minutes ago, I was just an ordinary guy with an extraordinary past, dreaming of a peaceful life. But now...
The suffocating summer air clung to me, heavy with unbearable heat, like the fiery depths of hell. Behind me, the school I had just fled from loomed, and I had no intention of spending another minute in that soul-crushing place. After all, another day at elementary school had dragged on so painfully that I half-joked to myself about speeding up the process and jumping straight to my third life. To maintain whatever sanity I had left, I bolted from that cursed building as fast as I could.
For someone mentally well into their twenties, it was nothing short of a living nightmare — an endless cycle of disappointment and despair. A student who had been on the verge of completing a thesis in Computer Engineering was now stuck in a classroom where kids were learning how to read. It felt like I'd been sentenced to a class for the mentally impaired... Damn kids! They were more aggravating than anything else. These tiny, snot-nosed brats, who had no sense of personal space or common decency, seemed like demons straight out of hell — little devils let loose on earth! They ran, screamed, squealed, sneezed, and constantly invaded my precious personal bubble.
Annoying as hell!
At least today's torture was over.
"Ugh, this heat is unbearable," I muttered irritably, tugging at the sweat-soaked collar of my shirt.
Oh, and by the way, throw in my immeasurable disappointment with Japan. In my previous life, I had been a huge fan of Japanese culture, but reality turned out to be far from my expectations — just as it always does when dreams clash with harsh reality. My naive visions of cherry blossoms, delicious food, and samurai philosophy had been shattered on the scorching pavement, which, on days like today, was hot enough to cook ramen on if I'd had a pot, some water, and noodles.
Lost in thought, I ran far enough from the school and pulled a book from my bulky backpack, hoping to dispel the negativity that had built up inside me.
Usually, I barely noticed anything when I walked to or from school, distracted by the occasional wandering thought or waiting at a traffic light. The route from school to home was ingrained in my memory by now, so I could walk it blindfolded if I needed to. But today was different. Today, memories flooded back, unbidden.
My name was... Well, it doesn't really matter anymore. I wouldn't need my old name again. I had been a fourth-year university student. That fateful evening — no, night — I was nearly done writing my thesis. Like any "normal" student, I had left everything until the last couple of weeks, cramming most of the work into those final, frantic days. By that night, I hadn't slept in over twenty-four hours.
I remember the moment I realized I was out of coffee. I headed down to the 7-Eleven to grab another pack, my mind foggy from exhaustion, barely paying attention to anything around me. As a result, I didn't see the car speeding toward me — or maybe I did, and my sleep-deprived brain just didn't register it. The next thing I knew, there were headlights, then the impact... The bastard who hit me didn't even bother to brake, despite me crossing at a pedestrian walkway. Probably some rich official's spoiled brat. But none of that mattered now.
My next memory was of a cautious touch, blurry images before my eyes, and indistinct whispers echoing in my ears. As I would later learn, infants up to two or three months old don't see clearly — they only perceive vague shapes that often frighten them. At the time, I thought it was all either an incredibly long dream or the delirium of a dying man — or more precisely, the hallucinations of someone in a vegetative state, which is surely what I would have become had I survived.
That's why, when I finally opened my eyes one day and clearly saw the face of my new mother, I felt such an overwhelming wave of joy and peace that I burst into tears. Those were my first tears in this new life.
Coming to terms with being in the body of a child, in a new life, a new family, and, as it would later turn out, a new world, was shocking at first. But I adapted fairly quickly. After all, if there's one advantage to being an infant, it's the abundance of time to fully comprehend and accept your situation.
What's more, I was content with my new family, which consisted of four people: two parents, an older daughter, and a younger son — me.
My sweet, tomboyish older sister constantly clung to me as if I were her favorite birthday doll. It wasn't all that bad, really, especially considering I had been an only child in my past life. This shift in family dynamics was actually rather pleasant.
However, my mom and dad were too strange to be considered normal parents. Honestly, they felt like they came from two completely different worlds. My father was, for lack of a better word, an ordinary man — a middle-aged lawyer with a plain appearance and the rather average dream of "becoming successful."
My mother, on the other hand, was his complete opposite — an eccentric woman who did whatever she pleased, without a second thought for social norms or what others might think. This made her, at the very least, complicated, and at worst, downright terrifying. Even so, she was a decent mother — far better at parenting than my father, to be honest.
In short, they were an odd couple.
After getting acquainted with my family, I began exploring the world around me. Now, at six years old, it's 2004. It's the same Earth as in the early 2000s: the rapid rise of the internet and technology, button phones and landlines, bulky desktop computers. It's a time when playing outside was still far more interesting and "cooler" than staying indoors. For me, it could have been a wonderful time, if not for the damned little brats society calls children. And, of course, it annoyed me to no end that this world lacked so much of the manga and anime I loved, which could have at least helped me pass the time!
"At least some familiar books made it here," I thought, spotting the cover of Stephen King's "It".
All in all, my new life was full of contradictions and contrasts. My old world already felt so distant and unreal compared to this one, with new discoveries and experiences almost every day. Eventually, I found myself fully settling into life as Houtarou Oreki — the name I had been given in this second life.
My sister was always dragging me outside to play, and I could never refuse her, even though it completely derailed my plans to quietly get through the day without interacting with the hellspawn. My parents, each in their own way, tried to raise me. While my mother was too eccentric and self-centered to be the perfect mom, she still cared about me. My father, on the other hand, was often away on business trips, too busy to notice much of what was happening at home. His presence in my life was minimal at best.
One thought led to another, and before I knew it, I was home. Quietly, I slipped through the door, trying to make as little noise as possible to avoid running into my mother. As I kicked off my shoes, I heard singing coming from the kitchen. I'm not sure why, but today I had an overwhelming urge to peek inside — something I usually wouldn't do, as it almost certainly led to getting caught and scolded.
"Sometimes it feels like my mom has eyes on the back of her head," I thought as I tiptoed toward the kitchen.
And then… my mind went blank. I froze in place, dumbfounded by the scene before me.
How would you feel if you found out that all the women in your family were witches?
Some people might be ecstatic, eager to dive into the possibility of mastering magic. Others might sink into despair, feeling like they'd never truly belong to a world that's so close yet impossibly far. As for me?
[You've uncovered the secret of the women in the Oreki family!]
[New achievement — "Witch Craft Works"]
I gawked at the semi-transparent screen that had suddenly appeared before me. My eyes then shifted back to the scene in the kitchen, which seemed too bizarre to be real. My mother and sister were singing a simple children's song, their voices harmonizing perfectly, creating a warm and cozy family atmosphere. Their hands moved as if conducting an invisible orchestra, their graceful gestures giving the whole scene the feel of a surreal dance.
But the real magic? That was something else entirely. Floating around them, as if enchanted, were all sorts of kitchen utensils. Spoons, forks, knives, and pots drifted through the air, obeying invisible commands. A bright purple flame flickered on the stove, its fire almost alive as it wrapped itself around the pots, casting a soft glow throughout the kitchen. The light created strange, mesmerizing shadows on the walls, making it seem as if the entire room had a life of its own.
At the heart of it all was my mother. Her long chestnut hair cascaded over her shoulders, and the sight of her calm, focused face from the side was captivating. Don't get the wrong idea — I only felt a son's love for her. Strictly a son's love. Nothing Freudian, okay?
Anyway, I digress. My mother's movements were confident and fluid, like she'd been doing this her whole life. Beside her was my sister, mimicking every one of Mom's gestures. Her young face was lit up with excitement, joy, satisfaction, and curiosity.
I, on the other hand, stood frozen at the kitchen doorway, unable to utter a single word. My gaze dropped to the book I'd been reading before I got home. The lines seemed almost eerily fitting for this exact moment: "Kids, fiction is the truth inside the lie, and the truth of this fiction is simple enough: magic exists." Even now, Stephen fucking King had nailed it.
Unfortunately, before I could process what was happening, my sister spotted me. Her eyes widened in shock, and her face twisted with nervousness. She opened and closed her mouth like a fish, clearly trying to say something. At that moment, probably due to her losing focus, a few of the kitchen utensils — just a small part of the total number floating around — crashed to the floor with a loud clatter.
That finally grabbed my mother's attention. Following my sister's gaze, she turned and noticed me as well.
My mother, Mikoto Oreki, was… a rather peculiar woman, to say the least. Cynical, domineering, and fiercely independent, she always gave me mixed feelings. Honestly, I still can't figure out how my father managed to get a woman like her into bed, and even more surprisingly, at least twice.
She barely glanced at me before her eyes flicked to the clock. Realizing I had once again ditched school early, she frowned irritably and fixed me with a look. The clear threat in her eyes made it obvious that I wouldn't get off so easily this time.
I'd skipped the last classes more times than I could count and usually shrugged off her complaints, justifying it with my intelligence and the fact that I was bored out of my mind in school — which, to be fair, was true, and she knew it. Despite always pretending to be thoroughly displeased, my mom never really scolded me, understanding that I was far from the average elementary school kid who ate boogers and cried over every little thing. But this time… this time felt different.
Her eyes locked onto mine with a piercing intensity, the tension thick in the air. Her usual calm, composed demeanor was gone, replaced by a silent but unmistakable anger. She didn't say a word, but her silence was more unsettling than anything she could've said. The atmosphere felt like the calm before a storm.
"Ahem," I cleared my throat awkwardly, scrambling for something to say. Failing to come up with anything remotely "appropriate," I decided to go with humor: "I hope what you're cooking here is a tasty dinner and not… a love potion?"
Mom's eyes narrowed, her brows knitting together, giving her an even more menacing look. I quickly realized my attempt to lighten the mood with a joke had backfired spectacularly. So, without waiting for a response, I took a step back, then another, moving as calmly as I could toward the staircase that led to the second floor. I wasn't exactly rushing, but I definitely wasn't lingering either. Somehow, no one stopped me…
Quietly closing my bedroom door behind me, I tossed my backpack aside and placed the book on my desk. Then I flopped onto the bed, my mind racing as I replayed the last few minutes. I nervously rubbed the bridge of my nose by my thumb and forefinger.
"What the hell just happened?" I muttered, staring blankly up at the ceiling.
Ten minutes ago, I was just an ordinary guy with an extraordinary past, dreaming of a peaceful life. But now...
Chapter 2. Brave New World
Just ten minutes ago, I was an ordinary guy with an extraordinary past, simply dreaming of a peaceful life. But now... I turned my attention back to the semi-transparent holographic screen floating in front of me.
[You've uncovered the secret of the women in the Oreki family!]
[New achievement — "Witch Craft Works"]
As I focused on the second message, the screen flickered and split into two separate panels. The left one was blank, while the right displayed the title "Achievement List" at the top. Beneath those words, the achievement I'd just unlocked glowed brightly in orange.
"Witch Craft Works," I muttered under my breath.
I concentrated on the name of the achievement, as it vaguely reminded me of something from my past life. This unconscious action caused a third screen to suddenly materialize in front of me, overlapping the other two.
[Witch Craft Works]
[Achievement Condition: The women in your family have a secret — discover it!]
[Description: The women of the Oreki family are born witches, a supernatural human species with a rare and specialized talent for magic. You've uncovered the true nature of your mother and sister! In ancient times, the witches themselves wouldn't have let you live, and the church would have done everything in its power to extract both truth and useful lies from you. What will you do with this information? And what will the witches do to you?]
[Reward: Inheritance Set of "Alchemy of Atlas"]
So, what can I say... Whoever came up with THIS is definitely an otaku, because the name "Witch Craft Works" is clearly ripped off from a cute little anime I watched in my past life.
And what's up with that strange condition? Unlocking an achievement just because I happened to be in the right place at the right time? Is that really how "achievements" are supposed to work? If we assume that this system, which seems straight out of the web novels and light novels I used to read, is a way to transfer game mechanics into real life, then earning an achievement should involve some sort of challenge. I mean, that's the whole point of an achievement — overcoming an obstacle and getting rewarded for it, like receiving a medal at a school recital, proving your worth... Or, in a gamer's case, proving you had enough free time to grind endlessly by hammering away at a keyboard.
Achievements, as I understand them, are rewards for "Effort" with a capital "E." They're like trophies you earn after surviving trials and pushing through challenges. It's not about the achievement itself; it's about the process leading up to it. Achievements add meaning and motivation to your game, making your actions seem more significant and valuable than they really are. In the end, you're just some nerd replaying a game over and over to get that elusive "The Dark Soul".
Although, if I think about it, even some games have achievements where all you have to do is press a button on the keyboard. I couldn't help but smirk, reminiscing about the good old days when I'd hunch over my monitor, suffering through late-night gaming sessions.
So, in light of all this, I really don't have any right to complain. Besides, if a stroke of luck and a few fortunate circumstances not only earned me an achievement but also activated an "Achievement System", why not roll with it?
Right now, what concerns me more is the description — specifically the part that says, "And what will the witches do to you?" It's not like I'm afraid of my own family, but knowing my mother, I absolutely have no idea what's going on in her head. She's a good mother, sure, but after six years of being her son, I've learned one undeniable truth: she's Mikoto Oreki first, and a mother second. Her own interests always came first, and she followed her own rules, whatever those were.
Mikoto Oreki was an incredibly complex person. Her eccentricity and unpredictability made her both captivating and intimidating. She could be loving and caring, yet her actions often left me confused. I never knew what she might do next. If she decided I wasn't supposed to know about her true nature, I'd probably forget everything that happened today. Witches can erase memories, right? Although that line, "In ancient times, the witches themselves wouldn't have let you live", makes me doubt that.
Wait a minute, now that I think about it... Mom could always find me, even when I thought I was hiding so well no one could track me down.
I suddenly sat up, processing the new information while pinching the bridge of my nose between my thumb and forefinger. From those times when I came home before her, yet she found me on the first try, to that time when I got lost in Tokyo… How embarrassing — in my previous life, I was almost finished with university, yet I still managed to get lost during a festival…
Wait, stop, I'm getting sidetracked again!
Anyway, everything involving my mother — those little mysteries I couldn't explain — suddenly made sense. Which led to a new question: if Mom has some kind of sixth sense that lets her track me, would she really have allowed me to stumble upon today's events? Maybe this was her plan all along? To introduce me to the supernatural now that I'm older…
"Alright, it's pointless to speculate about things I have no way of knowing," I muttered as my attention shifted to the last sentence on the screen. "Reward…"
I grinned in anticipation and focused on that part. As far as I could tell, concentrating on the screen seemed to be the only way I could interact with it, since my hands passed right through, and voice commands didn't work.
As if in response to my thoughts, the screen in front of me changed.
[Inheritance Set of "Alchemy of Atlas"]
[Description: The magic of the Atlas Institute represents a fusion of science and magic, specializing in thought processes that use the human body as an arithmetic unit to transform and realize phenomena. In its original world, the source of this magic is the power of the mind, allowing it to be used even without Magic Circuits, which greatly differentiates this system from the conventional Western system of magic.]
[Notes: You are in a universe different from the one where this magic originates, so some of its features cannot be transferred. In exchange, you will be given a minor physical reconstruction, within the limits of human capabilities in this world, which will allow you to maximize your potential in mastering this magic.]
[Friendly Reminder: This is an inheritance set — prepare a safe place where you can spend the next few hours in "oblivion".]
Just seeing the name "Alchemy of Atlas", I immediately recognized where this magic came from. And after reading the description, all my doubts vanished, since the term "Magic Circuits" is one of the defining features of the world this magic originates from — the Nasuverse.
"Thank God, or whatever almighty jerk is up there, for not dumping me into that world," I muttered in genuine relief, looking up toward the sky through the ceiling.
Having expressed my gratitude and "respect", it was time to focus on "Alchemy of Atlas". This magic was quite unique, to say the least. Essentially, it was a complex blend of science, supernatural techniques, orthodox theories, and philosophical laws — a system that could rival both Western magic and the holy rituals of the Nasuverse.
As far as I could remember, aside from the "Traditional Feature", a hereditary trait exclusive to the six founding families of Atlas, alchemists had only two main abilities. Beyond that, they relied on the strength of their bodies and this "Traditional Feature", which represented the pinnacle of human physical and biological mastery achieved by Atlas Alchemists.
Since I'm not officially part of the Atlas Institute or related to any founding family, I probably won't be able to use the "Traditional Feature". And the fact that I'm just a "civilian" from another world would normally prevent me from using even the basic abilities of an Atlas Alchemist. However, this "minor physical reconstruction" should give me the potential — or, in other words, the talent or predisposition — to become a proper alchemist. Though, that will just be potential, something I'll have to work on and develop myself.
Potential... It reminds me of how I squandered my childhood potential, only to end up as a pathetic college student. There was a time when I wanted to be an astronaut. I had a habit of muttering random things to myself, but I was smart enough not to say that one out loud.
In the end, I'll be able to reach a physical and mental state far beyond the average person. This would allow me not only to survive in this now very unfamiliar world but to thrive in it. And that prospect is undeniably appealing. No, calling it just appealing doesn't do it justice. While Alchemy of Atlas may not be as diverse as Western magic, and it lacks the destructive and mysterious powers granted by worshipping some cruel higher being, it still unlocks the full potential of the human mind and body.
If I think about it, I could learn the magic of this world, and Alchemy of Atlas would be a great asset, enhancing my mental capabilities. I nodded to myself in affirmation, congratulating my own reasoning, but then froze.
"In this world, magic isn't exclusive to witches, right?"
The achievement's description mentioned something about the church... But would it really be wise to turn to them for help, knowing my mother and sister are witches? I mean, I'm not a bad person. I love my new family, no matter how strange they are. So, if it ever came down to choosing between magic and my family, I'd definitely pick the latter. Besides, I have a third option — the Achievement System, as I've dubbed it.
"It's so frustrating that there's no internet for supernatural beings, where I could just type my question into some magical version of 'Google' and instantly get the answers I need," I grumbled, running a hand through my hair before flopping back onto the bed. "Alright, no point in stressing over it. I'll just ask Mom… She won't kill me for bringing this up... Right?"
[You've uncovered the secret of the women in the Oreki family!]
[New achievement — "Witch Craft Works"]
As I focused on the second message, the screen flickered and split into two separate panels. The left one was blank, while the right displayed the title "Achievement List" at the top. Beneath those words, the achievement I'd just unlocked glowed brightly in orange.
"Witch Craft Works," I muttered under my breath.
I concentrated on the name of the achievement, as it vaguely reminded me of something from my past life. This unconscious action caused a third screen to suddenly materialize in front of me, overlapping the other two.
[Witch Craft Works]
[Achievement Condition: The women in your family have a secret — discover it!]
[Description: The women of the Oreki family are born witches, a supernatural human species with a rare and specialized talent for magic. You've uncovered the true nature of your mother and sister! In ancient times, the witches themselves wouldn't have let you live, and the church would have done everything in its power to extract both truth and useful lies from you. What will you do with this information? And what will the witches do to you?]
[Reward: Inheritance Set of "Alchemy of Atlas"]
So, what can I say... Whoever came up with THIS is definitely an otaku, because the name "Witch Craft Works" is clearly ripped off from a cute little anime I watched in my past life.
And what's up with that strange condition? Unlocking an achievement just because I happened to be in the right place at the right time? Is that really how "achievements" are supposed to work? If we assume that this system, which seems straight out of the web novels and light novels I used to read, is a way to transfer game mechanics into real life, then earning an achievement should involve some sort of challenge. I mean, that's the whole point of an achievement — overcoming an obstacle and getting rewarded for it, like receiving a medal at a school recital, proving your worth... Or, in a gamer's case, proving you had enough free time to grind endlessly by hammering away at a keyboard.
Achievements, as I understand them, are rewards for "Effort" with a capital "E." They're like trophies you earn after surviving trials and pushing through challenges. It's not about the achievement itself; it's about the process leading up to it. Achievements add meaning and motivation to your game, making your actions seem more significant and valuable than they really are. In the end, you're just some nerd replaying a game over and over to get that elusive "The Dark Soul".
Although, if I think about it, even some games have achievements where all you have to do is press a button on the keyboard. I couldn't help but smirk, reminiscing about the good old days when I'd hunch over my monitor, suffering through late-night gaming sessions.
So, in light of all this, I really don't have any right to complain. Besides, if a stroke of luck and a few fortunate circumstances not only earned me an achievement but also activated an "Achievement System", why not roll with it?
Right now, what concerns me more is the description — specifically the part that says, "And what will the witches do to you?" It's not like I'm afraid of my own family, but knowing my mother, I absolutely have no idea what's going on in her head. She's a good mother, sure, but after six years of being her son, I've learned one undeniable truth: she's Mikoto Oreki first, and a mother second. Her own interests always came first, and she followed her own rules, whatever those were.
Mikoto Oreki was an incredibly complex person. Her eccentricity and unpredictability made her both captivating and intimidating. She could be loving and caring, yet her actions often left me confused. I never knew what she might do next. If she decided I wasn't supposed to know about her true nature, I'd probably forget everything that happened today. Witches can erase memories, right? Although that line, "In ancient times, the witches themselves wouldn't have let you live", makes me doubt that.
Wait a minute, now that I think about it... Mom could always find me, even when I thought I was hiding so well no one could track me down.
I suddenly sat up, processing the new information while pinching the bridge of my nose between my thumb and forefinger. From those times when I came home before her, yet she found me on the first try, to that time when I got lost in Tokyo… How embarrassing — in my previous life, I was almost finished with university, yet I still managed to get lost during a festival…
Wait, stop, I'm getting sidetracked again!
Anyway, everything involving my mother — those little mysteries I couldn't explain — suddenly made sense. Which led to a new question: if Mom has some kind of sixth sense that lets her track me, would she really have allowed me to stumble upon today's events? Maybe this was her plan all along? To introduce me to the supernatural now that I'm older…
"Alright, it's pointless to speculate about things I have no way of knowing," I muttered as my attention shifted to the last sentence on the screen. "Reward…"
I grinned in anticipation and focused on that part. As far as I could tell, concentrating on the screen seemed to be the only way I could interact with it, since my hands passed right through, and voice commands didn't work.
As if in response to my thoughts, the screen in front of me changed.
[Inheritance Set of "Alchemy of Atlas"]
[Description: The magic of the Atlas Institute represents a fusion of science and magic, specializing in thought processes that use the human body as an arithmetic unit to transform and realize phenomena. In its original world, the source of this magic is the power of the mind, allowing it to be used even without Magic Circuits, which greatly differentiates this system from the conventional Western system of magic.]
[Notes: You are in a universe different from the one where this magic originates, so some of its features cannot be transferred. In exchange, you will be given a minor physical reconstruction, within the limits of human capabilities in this world, which will allow you to maximize your potential in mastering this magic.]
[Friendly Reminder: This is an inheritance set — prepare a safe place where you can spend the next few hours in "oblivion".]
Just seeing the name "Alchemy of Atlas", I immediately recognized where this magic came from. And after reading the description, all my doubts vanished, since the term "Magic Circuits" is one of the defining features of the world this magic originates from — the Nasuverse.
"Thank God, or whatever almighty jerk is up there, for not dumping me into that world," I muttered in genuine relief, looking up toward the sky through the ceiling.
Having expressed my gratitude and "respect", it was time to focus on "Alchemy of Atlas". This magic was quite unique, to say the least. Essentially, it was a complex blend of science, supernatural techniques, orthodox theories, and philosophical laws — a system that could rival both Western magic and the holy rituals of the Nasuverse.
As far as I could remember, aside from the "Traditional Feature", a hereditary trait exclusive to the six founding families of Atlas, alchemists had only two main abilities. Beyond that, they relied on the strength of their bodies and this "Traditional Feature", which represented the pinnacle of human physical and biological mastery achieved by Atlas Alchemists.
Since I'm not officially part of the Atlas Institute or related to any founding family, I probably won't be able to use the "Traditional Feature". And the fact that I'm just a "civilian" from another world would normally prevent me from using even the basic abilities of an Atlas Alchemist. However, this "minor physical reconstruction" should give me the potential — or, in other words, the talent or predisposition — to become a proper alchemist. Though, that will just be potential, something I'll have to work on and develop myself.
Potential... It reminds me of how I squandered my childhood potential, only to end up as a pathetic college student. There was a time when I wanted to be an astronaut. I had a habit of muttering random things to myself, but I was smart enough not to say that one out loud.
In the end, I'll be able to reach a physical and mental state far beyond the average person. This would allow me not only to survive in this now very unfamiliar world but to thrive in it. And that prospect is undeniably appealing. No, calling it just appealing doesn't do it justice. While Alchemy of Atlas may not be as diverse as Western magic, and it lacks the destructive and mysterious powers granted by worshipping some cruel higher being, it still unlocks the full potential of the human mind and body.
If I think about it, I could learn the magic of this world, and Alchemy of Atlas would be a great asset, enhancing my mental capabilities. I nodded to myself in affirmation, congratulating my own reasoning, but then froze.
"In this world, magic isn't exclusive to witches, right?"
The achievement's description mentioned something about the church... But would it really be wise to turn to them for help, knowing my mother and sister are witches? I mean, I'm not a bad person. I love my new family, no matter how strange they are. So, if it ever came down to choosing between magic and my family, I'd definitely pick the latter. Besides, I have a third option — the Achievement System, as I've dubbed it.
"It's so frustrating that there's no internet for supernatural beings, where I could just type my question into some magical version of 'Google' and instantly get the answers I need," I grumbled, running a hand through my hair before flopping back onto the bed. "Alright, no point in stressing over it. I'll just ask Mom… She won't kill me for bringing this up... Right?"
Chapter 3. The Last Supper
This was the strangest dinner I'd ever had with my family.
My older sister, my mom, and I sat at the table, eating in silence, not saying a word since the moment I walked into the kitchen. The quiet was so unnerving that within five minutes, I could feel my shirt sticking to my sweaty back. The atmosphere was so tense that even the ordinary, unremarkable sound of chopsticks hitting a plate made me flinch.
So this is how you make a kid feel guilty… How interesting. Just sitting here, not even under my mom's direct gaze, I somehow felt guilty, even though I knew for sure I hadn't done anything wrong.
I'll definitely keep this tactic in mind — it could be useful for scaring kids. But seriously, what the hell is going on at this table right now? I cursed silently to myself as I glanced over at my sister.
Usually full of energy, she was now sitting with her chin propped on her hand, staring at a plate with a piece of fish. The poor fish had been so thoroughly mangled by her chopsticks that it looked like some maniac had gotten to it.
Realizing that my sister wasn't in any state to help, I sighed and turned my gaze to my mom. The next moment, my bright green eyes met the dark green eyes of Mikoto Oreki. Yes, it was Mikoto Oreki sitting in front of me, not my mother. The woman had a daring smirk on her face, and her eyes sparkled with mischief and sly amusement. I was instantly overwhelmed by a strange, unfamiliar feeling… It was as if I was being looked at, not by an adult woman, but by a child who had found something amusing and entertaining.
Hey, woman, you're supposed to be my mother! I was mentally screaming at this point.
In contrast, I took a deep breath and calmly spoke for the first time during tonight's dinner:
"How was your day, Mom?"
"Oh, just wonderful, sweetheart," Mom initially feigned surprise at my question, then followed it up with a sweet smile and continued, "What about you? You've been so quiet. I almost thought something had happened."
Touche, Mikoto Oreki, touche… I thought to myself, mentally raising my hands in surrender, acknowledging my inability to counter this woman.
But that wasn't what worried me... What the hell was going on here! No, I certainly understood the kind of woman my mother was, but to stick so strongly to her image? That said, this woman once told my father to go and stick his finger up his ass and jerk off on a napkin because he came home late extremely drunk and started "get on top of her" on it. So I guess it's probably not that bad... And why didn't I even get the idea that she might hold back at the sight of her son? How much of a distorted image of a mother has she created?
"I ditched school," I confessed, deciding to start small.
"I usually turn a blind eye to that," Mom replied, waving her hand dismissively. Then she fixed her gaze on me and added, "You're a smart and responsible boy, so I'm sure you didn't do anything reckless, right, sweetie?"
Honestly, at that moment, I wanted to throw my chopsticks at her and stomp my feet in frustration! For the first time in this second life, I felt like a real child — I wanted to bang my head against the table and cry, like a helpless kitten facing an unsolvable problem.
"Alright! I surrender!" I exclaimed, raising my hands in defeat, and this time, I really meant it. "Magic?"
"Nah," Mom said loudly. "It was so much fun! Why did you have to start this boring, serious conversation? My day might've been great, but now the evening's taking a nosedive."
Neither my sister nor I saw that reaction coming. We both stared at her, dumbfounded, trying to process what had just happened.
"Don't look at me like that," Mom said, crossing her arms under her chest, clearly irritated by our blank stares. "I didn't raise you to act this way. After all these years, you should know what this situation means to me."
"A funny misunderstanding?" I asked, finally shaking off the shock.
"Funny? Absolutely! Misunderstanding? Hmm, I don't think so," Mom replied, her lips curling into a sly, fox-like grin. "But you've figured it out by now, haven't you?"
"You're too eccentric and cynical for me to be sure of anything," I replied, not even trying to soften my words.
"Oh, sweetheart," Mom said cheerfully. "Stop it — your compliments and pretty-boy charm won't work on me."
What kind of mother says things like that…? What kind of…? Ugh, never mind, I give up. I can't think of her as normal anymore. How did I end up being her son? Why me? Why?! A whirlwind of thoughts rushed through my mind, sweeping away any trace of common sense I was trying to cling to during this conversation with her.
"I recognize that look," Mom said, smacking her lips in satisfaction. "The look of acceptance, of complete surrender to the brilliance of my personality!"
More like the all-consuming darkness of your cynicism…
If someone had told me before today that my mother was crazy, I would've just twirled my finger by my temple. Sure, my mom's strange, but not insane. At least, that's what I used to believe. Now, my former confidence in her sanity was starting to crumble, piece by piece.
"Houtarou," Mom suddenly frowned, her expression sharp. "Are you thinking bad things about me?"
We locked eyes, the silence stretching on for what felt like several long seconds. And then, I realized something simple yet profound — there was no longer any reason for me to act like a child or a dutiful son, at least not in front of "this" woman. It's strange, but when you meet someone who doesn't wear a mask, who says and does exactly what they think, you find yourself shedding your own mask, pushing the boundaries of what's "acceptable."
"I would never think you're acting crazy," I stated plainly, not breaking eye contact with her dark green eyes.
"No!" my sister suddenly shouted, slamming her hands on the table so hard the dishes rattled loudly. "My brother is turning into my mother! This cannot happen!"
Mom and I both raised our eyebrows simultaneously, staring at her with interest.
"You," my sister pointed accusingly at Mom, "don't you dare try to convert him to your faith of social liberation! And you," she turned her gaze to me, "I'll be watching you closely to make sure you don't succumb to the toxic influences of your environment."
"You're calling me toxic?" Mom scowled, clearly displeased.
"Does this include magic?" I asked, hopeful.
"Are you really willing to trade freedom from human norms and morals for magic?" Mom shot back, looking at me with even more discontent.
"I'm absolutely ready!" I declared, and, following my sister's lead, slammed my hand on the table for emphasis.
"Well, at least you're not lying to your mother's face. I can live with that," Mom said with a shrug, her expression softening as she returned to her meal.
Once again, the room fell into an uneasy silence.
While Mom ate calmly, enjoying her dinner, and my sister seemed lost in thought, occasionally glancing at me, I kept my gaze fixed on Mom. She might be direct, but she's far from stupid. She's full of cunning and mischief — and the way she so smoothly dodged my question about magic only confirmed it. Still, for a seasoned student like me, pestering her until she gives in won't be hard. After all, I've been far more persistent and shameless when I was late submitting lab reports.
"Mom," I said, catching her attention, and, by extension, that of everyone else at the table, "will you teach me ma—"
I didn't even get the chance to finish before Mom's stern, iron voice cut me off, leaving no room for negotiation:
"No."
"…gic," I finished weakly, completely thrown off by the sharpness and speed of her response. Then, as if nothing had happened, I asked, "Why?"
"Just as I say whatever I feel and do whatever I deem necessary and right, I'm doing the same now," Mom replied calmly, without a hint of irritation. "Besides, you don't even meet the most basic requirement for me to teach you magic — you're not a witch. That doesn't mean you can't learn magic; after all, my blood runs through your veins. But consider this my personal wish, principle, or call it whatever you like. Either way, I simply don't want to teach you... Is that clear?"
"Yes, ma'am," I gave her a theatrical salute, trying to mask my disappointment.
Unfortunately, I couldn't completely hide it from either Mom or my sister. There were two reasons for that. First, my disappointment was as big as a mountain — after all, this was magic! Magic, Carl! And second, I wasn't exactly an actor, at least not someone who could control their emotions on the spot. Sure, I was good at hiding my feelings, but controlling emotional outbursts in the moment? That was another story.
"I'll teach you," came a voice from the side.
Like sunlight breaking through on a rainy day, there she was! An angel in the flesh! My wonderful, sweet, well-read, incredibly beautiful, and intellectually gifted older sister, wonderful Tomoe Oreki! Did I just say "wonderful" twice? Well, so be it!
"You don't mind, do you, Mom?" my sister asked, raising her eyebrows with a slightly cheeky grin.
It was rare to see her like this. Usually, she made that face when I challenged her to something — or rather, when She challenged Me, though she always insisted it was the other way around.
"I'm not forbidding him from learning it. I just don't want the hassle myself," Mom shrugged casually. "After all, it's my whim... Just like letting him catch us in the kitchen earlier today."
"What?!" my sister blurted out.
"I'm not repeating myself," Mom responded, her tone curt.
In response, my sister began rubbing her temples in frustration, muttering to herself, "You're my mother. You're my mother. You're my mother." Then, she suddenly jumped up from her chair, slamming her hands on the table. "I'm exhausted! I'm going to my room!"
With a dramatic turn, she stormed toward the staircase leading to the second floor. Her long chestnut hair "heroically" fluttered behind her as she left. When she reached the stairs, she stopped and glanced back at me.
"When you're done, come see me," she said before dashing up the stairs.
I stared, dumbfounded, at the spot where she had just stood. What the hell just happened?
And how many times had I asked myself that question today? I quickly realized I had no clear answer. Three? Maybe four.
Without bothering to count, I turned my gaze to Mom.
"What?" she asked, noticing my stare.
"Despite your personality, you're still my mom," I said with a sweet smile, speaking from the heart.
And I meant it. Despite all her quirks and "unique traits" — of which there were many — this woman not only gave me the chance to live a second life, but also made it far more interesting and exciting.
"And despite your personality, you're still my son," she replied.
My older sister, my mom, and I sat at the table, eating in silence, not saying a word since the moment I walked into the kitchen. The quiet was so unnerving that within five minutes, I could feel my shirt sticking to my sweaty back. The atmosphere was so tense that even the ordinary, unremarkable sound of chopsticks hitting a plate made me flinch.
So this is how you make a kid feel guilty… How interesting. Just sitting here, not even under my mom's direct gaze, I somehow felt guilty, even though I knew for sure I hadn't done anything wrong.
I'll definitely keep this tactic in mind — it could be useful for scaring kids. But seriously, what the hell is going on at this table right now? I cursed silently to myself as I glanced over at my sister.
Usually full of energy, she was now sitting with her chin propped on her hand, staring at a plate with a piece of fish. The poor fish had been so thoroughly mangled by her chopsticks that it looked like some maniac had gotten to it.
Realizing that my sister wasn't in any state to help, I sighed and turned my gaze to my mom. The next moment, my bright green eyes met the dark green eyes of Mikoto Oreki. Yes, it was Mikoto Oreki sitting in front of me, not my mother. The woman had a daring smirk on her face, and her eyes sparkled with mischief and sly amusement. I was instantly overwhelmed by a strange, unfamiliar feeling… It was as if I was being looked at, not by an adult woman, but by a child who had found something amusing and entertaining.
Hey, woman, you're supposed to be my mother! I was mentally screaming at this point.
In contrast, I took a deep breath and calmly spoke for the first time during tonight's dinner:
"How was your day, Mom?"
"Oh, just wonderful, sweetheart," Mom initially feigned surprise at my question, then followed it up with a sweet smile and continued, "What about you? You've been so quiet. I almost thought something had happened."
Touche, Mikoto Oreki, touche… I thought to myself, mentally raising my hands in surrender, acknowledging my inability to counter this woman.
But that wasn't what worried me... What the hell was going on here! No, I certainly understood the kind of woman my mother was, but to stick so strongly to her image? That said, this woman once told my father to go and stick his finger up his ass and jerk off on a napkin because he came home late extremely drunk and started "get on top of her" on it. So I guess it's probably not that bad... And why didn't I even get the idea that she might hold back at the sight of her son? How much of a distorted image of a mother has she created?
"I ditched school," I confessed, deciding to start small.
"I usually turn a blind eye to that," Mom replied, waving her hand dismissively. Then she fixed her gaze on me and added, "You're a smart and responsible boy, so I'm sure you didn't do anything reckless, right, sweetie?"
Honestly, at that moment, I wanted to throw my chopsticks at her and stomp my feet in frustration! For the first time in this second life, I felt like a real child — I wanted to bang my head against the table and cry, like a helpless kitten facing an unsolvable problem.
"Alright! I surrender!" I exclaimed, raising my hands in defeat, and this time, I really meant it. "Magic?"
"Nah," Mom said loudly. "It was so much fun! Why did you have to start this boring, serious conversation? My day might've been great, but now the evening's taking a nosedive."
Neither my sister nor I saw that reaction coming. We both stared at her, dumbfounded, trying to process what had just happened.
"Don't look at me like that," Mom said, crossing her arms under her chest, clearly irritated by our blank stares. "I didn't raise you to act this way. After all these years, you should know what this situation means to me."
"A funny misunderstanding?" I asked, finally shaking off the shock.
"Funny? Absolutely! Misunderstanding? Hmm, I don't think so," Mom replied, her lips curling into a sly, fox-like grin. "But you've figured it out by now, haven't you?"
"You're too eccentric and cynical for me to be sure of anything," I replied, not even trying to soften my words.
"Oh, sweetheart," Mom said cheerfully. "Stop it — your compliments and pretty-boy charm won't work on me."
What kind of mother says things like that…? What kind of…? Ugh, never mind, I give up. I can't think of her as normal anymore. How did I end up being her son? Why me? Why?! A whirlwind of thoughts rushed through my mind, sweeping away any trace of common sense I was trying to cling to during this conversation with her.
"I recognize that look," Mom said, smacking her lips in satisfaction. "The look of acceptance, of complete surrender to the brilliance of my personality!"
More like the all-consuming darkness of your cynicism…
If someone had told me before today that my mother was crazy, I would've just twirled my finger by my temple. Sure, my mom's strange, but not insane. At least, that's what I used to believe. Now, my former confidence in her sanity was starting to crumble, piece by piece.
"Houtarou," Mom suddenly frowned, her expression sharp. "Are you thinking bad things about me?"
We locked eyes, the silence stretching on for what felt like several long seconds. And then, I realized something simple yet profound — there was no longer any reason for me to act like a child or a dutiful son, at least not in front of "this" woman. It's strange, but when you meet someone who doesn't wear a mask, who says and does exactly what they think, you find yourself shedding your own mask, pushing the boundaries of what's "acceptable."
"I would never think you're acting crazy," I stated plainly, not breaking eye contact with her dark green eyes.
"No!" my sister suddenly shouted, slamming her hands on the table so hard the dishes rattled loudly. "My brother is turning into my mother! This cannot happen!"
Mom and I both raised our eyebrows simultaneously, staring at her with interest.
"You," my sister pointed accusingly at Mom, "don't you dare try to convert him to your faith of social liberation! And you," she turned her gaze to me, "I'll be watching you closely to make sure you don't succumb to the toxic influences of your environment."
"You're calling me toxic?" Mom scowled, clearly displeased.
"Does this include magic?" I asked, hopeful.
"Are you really willing to trade freedom from human norms and morals for magic?" Mom shot back, looking at me with even more discontent.
"I'm absolutely ready!" I declared, and, following my sister's lead, slammed my hand on the table for emphasis.
"Well, at least you're not lying to your mother's face. I can live with that," Mom said with a shrug, her expression softening as she returned to her meal.
Once again, the room fell into an uneasy silence.
While Mom ate calmly, enjoying her dinner, and my sister seemed lost in thought, occasionally glancing at me, I kept my gaze fixed on Mom. She might be direct, but she's far from stupid. She's full of cunning and mischief — and the way she so smoothly dodged my question about magic only confirmed it. Still, for a seasoned student like me, pestering her until she gives in won't be hard. After all, I've been far more persistent and shameless when I was late submitting lab reports.
"Mom," I said, catching her attention, and, by extension, that of everyone else at the table, "will you teach me ma—"
I didn't even get the chance to finish before Mom's stern, iron voice cut me off, leaving no room for negotiation:
"No."
"…gic," I finished weakly, completely thrown off by the sharpness and speed of her response. Then, as if nothing had happened, I asked, "Why?"
"Just as I say whatever I feel and do whatever I deem necessary and right, I'm doing the same now," Mom replied calmly, without a hint of irritation. "Besides, you don't even meet the most basic requirement for me to teach you magic — you're not a witch. That doesn't mean you can't learn magic; after all, my blood runs through your veins. But consider this my personal wish, principle, or call it whatever you like. Either way, I simply don't want to teach you... Is that clear?"
"Yes, ma'am," I gave her a theatrical salute, trying to mask my disappointment.
Unfortunately, I couldn't completely hide it from either Mom or my sister. There were two reasons for that. First, my disappointment was as big as a mountain — after all, this was magic! Magic, Carl! And second, I wasn't exactly an actor, at least not someone who could control their emotions on the spot. Sure, I was good at hiding my feelings, but controlling emotional outbursts in the moment? That was another story.
"I'll teach you," came a voice from the side.
Like sunlight breaking through on a rainy day, there she was! An angel in the flesh! My wonderful, sweet, well-read, incredibly beautiful, and intellectually gifted older sister, wonderful Tomoe Oreki! Did I just say "wonderful" twice? Well, so be it!
"You don't mind, do you, Mom?" my sister asked, raising her eyebrows with a slightly cheeky grin.
It was rare to see her like this. Usually, she made that face when I challenged her to something — or rather, when She challenged Me, though she always insisted it was the other way around.
"I'm not forbidding him from learning it. I just don't want the hassle myself," Mom shrugged casually. "After all, it's my whim... Just like letting him catch us in the kitchen earlier today."
"What?!" my sister blurted out.
"I'm not repeating myself," Mom responded, her tone curt.
In response, my sister began rubbing her temples in frustration, muttering to herself, "You're my mother. You're my mother. You're my mother." Then, she suddenly jumped up from her chair, slamming her hands on the table. "I'm exhausted! I'm going to my room!"
With a dramatic turn, she stormed toward the staircase leading to the second floor. Her long chestnut hair "heroically" fluttered behind her as she left. When she reached the stairs, she stopped and glanced back at me.
"When you're done, come see me," she said before dashing up the stairs.
I stared, dumbfounded, at the spot where she had just stood. What the hell just happened?
And how many times had I asked myself that question today? I quickly realized I had no clear answer. Three? Maybe four.
Without bothering to count, I turned my gaze to Mom.
"What?" she asked, noticing my stare.
"Despite your personality, you're still my mom," I said with a sweet smile, speaking from the heart.
And I meant it. Despite all her quirks and "unique traits" — of which there were many — this woman not only gave me the chance to live a second life, but also made it far more interesting and exciting.
"And despite your personality, you're still my son," she replied.
Chapter 4. Madhouse
Having completed my filial duty of washing the dishes, I dashed upstairs to my sister's room like the wind.
A knock on the door cut through the silence of the hallway.
"Come in," my sister's voice came from inside.
I opened the door as calmly as possible, trying to steady my hands, which were trembling with anticipation.
My sister's room was quite spacious, like every other room in our house. One quick glance was all it took to tell that the person living here had an impeccable sense of order. Everything was in its place with precision and care, as if it were a display in a showroom. There wasn't a single item on the floor, not a speck of dust in sight.
The bookshelf along one of the walls was particularly noteworthy. It was filled with books of various genres and topics, each standing perfectly upright like soldiers at attention. Thick volumes of classic literature stood alongside modern bestsellers and scientific works. It was a clear reflection of Tomoe's love for reading and the breadth of her interests and knowledge. The shelf also had a few neatly arranged souvenirs and framed photographs, each seeming to hold its own special significance.
On her desk, positioned near the window, lay perfectly arranged study materials and stationery. The desk lamp was angled to illuminate the workspace in the most efficient way possible.
"Your room's spotless," I commented, sitting on the bed across from my sister.
"What, did you expect it to be different?" Tomoe's face twisted with mild annoyance.
"No, no," I laughed nervously, scratching the back of my head in embarrassment. "It's just… compared to my room, this is a perfectionist's paradise."
"I just don't like clutter," my sister smirked, clearly pleased with my explanation.
"Alright," I said, crossing my legs and slapping my knees to get her attention. "Where do we start?"
"How eager," Tomoe smiled knowingly before continuing. "Then again, I was the same when Mom first told me the truth about our origins."
"By the way, about that," I paused for a second, thinking. "Mom mentioned that since I'm not a witch, I don't meet the minimum requirements for training. What did she mean by that?"
"Hmm," Tomoe tilted her head slightly, deep in thought, looking surprisingly cute as she did so. "I think it's best if we start with the basics — what human magic is and how this world operates. But I'll only give you a broad overview, since you'll get more detailed information from the textbooks I'll lend you."
"Good, that's even better," I leaned forward, excitement bubbling up inside me.
"If I didn't know you better, I'd say that sounded a bit disrespectful," Tomoe smirked slyly.
"I didn't mean anything by it!" I protested, waving my hands.
"Don't worry, I know," she said, shaking her head, a soft smile creeping onto her face, her eyes warm with affection. "But I do like seeing this side of you. The way you get excited and forget to filter your words… You're really acting like a kid right now."
In response, I could only curl up in embarrassment, awkwardly scratching my cheek. Even in my past life, back when I was a student, I'd sometimes get overly sincere and childlike when doing or learning something genuinely interesting. I guess that's why I was good at what I did.
Tomoe watched me as I mulled over her words and smiled. Then, taking on a more serious expression, she nodded like a teacher about to give a lecture.
"Let's start with what you already know: the human world," she began. "At first glance, it's the same Earth we're familiar with — where the Sun shines by day and the Moon lights the night. But humans, going about their daily lives, are unaware of the supernatural beings and magic hidden from their ordinary view. In the shadows of our 'normal' world exist secret societies, organizations, and supernatural species like vampires and yokai, known only to a select few."
She paused to let that sink in before continuing.
"Next, as a mage, you need to know about the 'Three Factions,' which include devils, angels, and fallen angels. Let's start with the Underworld, also known as Hell. It's a separate dimension divided between devils and fallen angels. Human mages have the most contact with devils and fallen angels. The Underworld is roughly the same size as the human world, but it lacks oceans and seas, so there's much more available land." Tomoe paused for a moment, searching for the right words. "Interesting fact — the flow of time in the Underworld used to be different from the human world, but for the sake of reincarnated devils, it was synchronized with ours."
"Reincarnated devils?" I raised an eyebrow, sensing something off about that.
"After several back-to-back wars involving devils, their population dwindled significantly. Devils aren't very fertile, largely because of their near-immortality. But they're clever, so eventually, they created a special system that allows other races to become devils. And yes, humans are the ones most frequently reincarnated as devils," she added, noticing the spark of interest in my eyes. "Some by choice, others through trickery, but the fact remains — there are so many reincarnated humans that they even created a moon and, as a result, night in the Underworld for their benefit."
"And people just give up their humanity that easily?" I asked, astonished.
But the more I thought about it, the quicker I realized how foolish my question was. Giving up one's humanity is probably the least someone would be willing to do in exchange for power. Besides, there are people who, while technically still "human," become such monsters and scumbags in their lifetime that reincarnation as a devil would probably feel like earning a "noble title" for them.
"You've already figured it out, haven't you?" my sister smiled knowingly, clearly guessing what was going through my mind. "Still, reincarnating as a devil has its perks. Immortality, strength, political influence of the house you have joined. Compared to all that, human pride doesn't count for much. However, there are downsides too — becoming a devil means you're permanently Heaven's sworn enemy. Heaven refers both to the faction of angels under God's leadership and their actual dwelling place. Its exact size is unknown, as it's vast, but we know it's structured into seven levels. Angels serve as the army of the Biblical God and are on par with both fallen angels and devils."
"And now, let's talk more about devils, angels, and the fallen," Tomoe continued, quickly shifting the topic. "Devils are the rulers of the Underworld. They wield immense power and can manipulate magic at an incredibly high level. The devils are ruled by 'Four Great Satans' and a 'Great King,' who leads the devil council. Their political system resembles an aristocracy, with noble houses and commoners. Originally, there were seventy-two Pure-Blooded Devils clans, but more than half are now extinct, with only thirty-two officially recognized."
"Next are the fallen angels — angels who were cast out of Heaven for their sins. They live in the Underworld as well, and they're the smallest group among the 'Three Factions.' The fallen angels call their faction 'Grigori,' and it's led by a governor, a vice-governor, and several high-ranking leaders."
"And finally, the angels — the natural enemies of both fallen angels and devils, due to their power of light, which is lethal to any 'evil' being. At the top of Heaven sits God, followed by the 'Four Great Seraphim,' the most powerful of the angels. Besides them, there are ten more seraphim, all loyal to their lord."
Tomoe delivered all of this in one breath, barely pausing. Even after she stopped, her words echoed endlessly in my mind.
What kind of madhouse have I landed in? Seventy-two devil clans — Solomon's ass, what!? Fallen angels, angels, the actual Biblical God!? And amidst all this insanity, humans are still just walking around like it's no big deal? What is even happening in this world!?
I hadn't cursed this fiercely — or this much — since that time I accidentally crashed a server during my internship.
"How are humans not dead yet?" I couldn't help but blurt out, staring at my sister.
Tomoe glanced at me and burst out laughing.
"Oh, I haven't even told you about the other gods and their factions yet."
"Other... Gods?" I exhaled in shock.
"Yup."
"Allah?"
"Nope," Tomoe shook her head.
"Indian Gods?"
"Bingo!"
"Odin?"
"Yup."
"Greek Gods?"
"Yup."
"Celtic?"
"Yup, yup."
"Japanese?" I threw this one out there after a moment of thought.
"That too," my sister nodded affirmatively.
"Jesus—"
"He's gone by now."
"—Fucking Christ" I couldn't hold back a curse.
"Hey! Watch your language," Tomoe scolded, frowning. "Besides, it's not all bad. Many Gods actually love humans and see them as the 'children' of this world. And angels, too, protect humanity, since, for Heaven, people are God's creation. That said, even with this divine protection, humans still face their own challenges. Which brings me to the topic of magic and the 'Sacred Gear'."
"Sacred Gear?" My ears perked up at the unfamiliar term.
"I won't go into too much detail today, but here's the gist: Sacred Gears are weapons bestowed upon humans by the Biblical God Himself. They're also known as 'God's Artifacts '. Sacred Gears are something only humans can possess. They're born with them, and eventually, usually under stress or strong emotions, their powers awaken," Tomoe explained, tapping her chin thoughtfully. "It's thanks to these Sacred Gears that humans can stand toe-to-toe with other supernatural beings… which, to be honest, is a little unsettling, because human magic is still weaker than demonic or divine power."
It was hard to miss the bitterness in Tomoe's expression. And after hearing about the Sacred Gears, I couldn't help but feel a tinge of that bitterness myself. In the end, humans only become truly powerful because of these 'God's Artifacts.' Those who don't possess them have to rely on magic, but even that doesn't grant them the same level of power as the weakest of the Longinus — the group of the most powerful Sacred Gears.
That's why, when my sister told me about a man named Vasco Strada, I immediately gained a deep respect for him. A man who became as strong as a God without any divine aid, relying only on his own human potential — that's someone truly extraordinary.
Vasco Strada… I'll remember that name. I've always admired exceptional people, and hearing about someone like him, I instantly made him a sort of "goal" to strive toward.
A knock on the door cut through the silence of the hallway.
"Come in," my sister's voice came from inside.
I opened the door as calmly as possible, trying to steady my hands, which were trembling with anticipation.
My sister's room was quite spacious, like every other room in our house. One quick glance was all it took to tell that the person living here had an impeccable sense of order. Everything was in its place with precision and care, as if it were a display in a showroom. There wasn't a single item on the floor, not a speck of dust in sight.
The bookshelf along one of the walls was particularly noteworthy. It was filled with books of various genres and topics, each standing perfectly upright like soldiers at attention. Thick volumes of classic literature stood alongside modern bestsellers and scientific works. It was a clear reflection of Tomoe's love for reading and the breadth of her interests and knowledge. The shelf also had a few neatly arranged souvenirs and framed photographs, each seeming to hold its own special significance.
On her desk, positioned near the window, lay perfectly arranged study materials and stationery. The desk lamp was angled to illuminate the workspace in the most efficient way possible.
"Your room's spotless," I commented, sitting on the bed across from my sister.
"What, did you expect it to be different?" Tomoe's face twisted with mild annoyance.
"No, no," I laughed nervously, scratching the back of my head in embarrassment. "It's just… compared to my room, this is a perfectionist's paradise."
"I just don't like clutter," my sister smirked, clearly pleased with my explanation.
"Alright," I said, crossing my legs and slapping my knees to get her attention. "Where do we start?"
"How eager," Tomoe smiled knowingly before continuing. "Then again, I was the same when Mom first told me the truth about our origins."
"By the way, about that," I paused for a second, thinking. "Mom mentioned that since I'm not a witch, I don't meet the minimum requirements for training. What did she mean by that?"
"Hmm," Tomoe tilted her head slightly, deep in thought, looking surprisingly cute as she did so. "I think it's best if we start with the basics — what human magic is and how this world operates. But I'll only give you a broad overview, since you'll get more detailed information from the textbooks I'll lend you."
"Good, that's even better," I leaned forward, excitement bubbling up inside me.
"If I didn't know you better, I'd say that sounded a bit disrespectful," Tomoe smirked slyly.
"I didn't mean anything by it!" I protested, waving my hands.
"Don't worry, I know," she said, shaking her head, a soft smile creeping onto her face, her eyes warm with affection. "But I do like seeing this side of you. The way you get excited and forget to filter your words… You're really acting like a kid right now."
In response, I could only curl up in embarrassment, awkwardly scratching my cheek. Even in my past life, back when I was a student, I'd sometimes get overly sincere and childlike when doing or learning something genuinely interesting. I guess that's why I was good at what I did.
Tomoe watched me as I mulled over her words and smiled. Then, taking on a more serious expression, she nodded like a teacher about to give a lecture.
"Let's start with what you already know: the human world," she began. "At first glance, it's the same Earth we're familiar with — where the Sun shines by day and the Moon lights the night. But humans, going about their daily lives, are unaware of the supernatural beings and magic hidden from their ordinary view. In the shadows of our 'normal' world exist secret societies, organizations, and supernatural species like vampires and yokai, known only to a select few."
She paused to let that sink in before continuing.
"Next, as a mage, you need to know about the 'Three Factions,' which include devils, angels, and fallen angels. Let's start with the Underworld, also known as Hell. It's a separate dimension divided between devils and fallen angels. Human mages have the most contact with devils and fallen angels. The Underworld is roughly the same size as the human world, but it lacks oceans and seas, so there's much more available land." Tomoe paused for a moment, searching for the right words. "Interesting fact — the flow of time in the Underworld used to be different from the human world, but for the sake of reincarnated devils, it was synchronized with ours."
"Reincarnated devils?" I raised an eyebrow, sensing something off about that.
"After several back-to-back wars involving devils, their population dwindled significantly. Devils aren't very fertile, largely because of their near-immortality. But they're clever, so eventually, they created a special system that allows other races to become devils. And yes, humans are the ones most frequently reincarnated as devils," she added, noticing the spark of interest in my eyes. "Some by choice, others through trickery, but the fact remains — there are so many reincarnated humans that they even created a moon and, as a result, night in the Underworld for their benefit."
"And people just give up their humanity that easily?" I asked, astonished.
But the more I thought about it, the quicker I realized how foolish my question was. Giving up one's humanity is probably the least someone would be willing to do in exchange for power. Besides, there are people who, while technically still "human," become such monsters and scumbags in their lifetime that reincarnation as a devil would probably feel like earning a "noble title" for them.
"You've already figured it out, haven't you?" my sister smiled knowingly, clearly guessing what was going through my mind. "Still, reincarnating as a devil has its perks. Immortality, strength, political influence of the house you have joined. Compared to all that, human pride doesn't count for much. However, there are downsides too — becoming a devil means you're permanently Heaven's sworn enemy. Heaven refers both to the faction of angels under God's leadership and their actual dwelling place. Its exact size is unknown, as it's vast, but we know it's structured into seven levels. Angels serve as the army of the Biblical God and are on par with both fallen angels and devils."
"And now, let's talk more about devils, angels, and the fallen," Tomoe continued, quickly shifting the topic. "Devils are the rulers of the Underworld. They wield immense power and can manipulate magic at an incredibly high level. The devils are ruled by 'Four Great Satans' and a 'Great King,' who leads the devil council. Their political system resembles an aristocracy, with noble houses and commoners. Originally, there were seventy-two Pure-Blooded Devils clans, but more than half are now extinct, with only thirty-two officially recognized."
"Next are the fallen angels — angels who were cast out of Heaven for their sins. They live in the Underworld as well, and they're the smallest group among the 'Three Factions.' The fallen angels call their faction 'Grigori,' and it's led by a governor, a vice-governor, and several high-ranking leaders."
"And finally, the angels — the natural enemies of both fallen angels and devils, due to their power of light, which is lethal to any 'evil' being. At the top of Heaven sits God, followed by the 'Four Great Seraphim,' the most powerful of the angels. Besides them, there are ten more seraphim, all loyal to their lord."
Tomoe delivered all of this in one breath, barely pausing. Even after she stopped, her words echoed endlessly in my mind.
What kind of madhouse have I landed in? Seventy-two devil clans — Solomon's ass, what!? Fallen angels, angels, the actual Biblical God!? And amidst all this insanity, humans are still just walking around like it's no big deal? What is even happening in this world!?
I hadn't cursed this fiercely — or this much — since that time I accidentally crashed a server during my internship.
"How are humans not dead yet?" I couldn't help but blurt out, staring at my sister.
Tomoe glanced at me and burst out laughing.
"Oh, I haven't even told you about the other gods and their factions yet."
"Other... Gods?" I exhaled in shock.
"Yup."
"Allah?"
"Nope," Tomoe shook her head.
"Indian Gods?"
"Bingo!"
"Odin?"
"Yup."
"Greek Gods?"
"Yup."
"Celtic?"
"Yup, yup."
"Japanese?" I threw this one out there after a moment of thought.
"That too," my sister nodded affirmatively.
"Jesus—"
"He's gone by now."
"—Fucking Christ" I couldn't hold back a curse.
"Hey! Watch your language," Tomoe scolded, frowning. "Besides, it's not all bad. Many Gods actually love humans and see them as the 'children' of this world. And angels, too, protect humanity, since, for Heaven, people are God's creation. That said, even with this divine protection, humans still face their own challenges. Which brings me to the topic of magic and the 'Sacred Gear'."
"Sacred Gear?" My ears perked up at the unfamiliar term.
"I won't go into too much detail today, but here's the gist: Sacred Gears are weapons bestowed upon humans by the Biblical God Himself. They're also known as 'God's Artifacts '. Sacred Gears are something only humans can possess. They're born with them, and eventually, usually under stress or strong emotions, their powers awaken," Tomoe explained, tapping her chin thoughtfully. "It's thanks to these Sacred Gears that humans can stand toe-to-toe with other supernatural beings… which, to be honest, is a little unsettling, because human magic is still weaker than demonic or divine power."
It was hard to miss the bitterness in Tomoe's expression. And after hearing about the Sacred Gears, I couldn't help but feel a tinge of that bitterness myself. In the end, humans only become truly powerful because of these 'God's Artifacts.' Those who don't possess them have to rely on magic, but even that doesn't grant them the same level of power as the weakest of the Longinus — the group of the most powerful Sacred Gears.
That's why, when my sister told me about a man named Vasco Strada, I immediately gained a deep respect for him. A man who became as strong as a God without any divine aid, relying only on his own human potential — that's someone truly extraordinary.
Vasco Strada… I'll remember that name. I've always admired exceptional people, and hearing about someone like him, I instantly made him a sort of "goal" to strive toward.
3 out of 4 chapters don't actually exist?
They do now it seems
