The Successor to the Throne of God

Rodrigo slowly opened his eyes, feeling the cold, gentle breeze caress his face. He found himself floating in a vast, endless sky, a blue so deep it seemed to swallow everything around him. There was no ground, no horizon, just the infinite expanse above and below. He tried to move his body but realized he was suspended in the air, as if gravity itself had ceased to exist.

When he looked around, his heart raced. Shadows.

Dozens, perhaps hundreds of them. Humanoid shapes of varying sizes, some as small as children, others so colossal they seemed to brush against the stars glittering in the sky above. Each shadow had indistinct outlines, as if made of black smoke, yet carried unique details: some bore swords, others had wings, and a few appeared burdened by heavy loads on their backs.

Rodrigo squinted, trying to observe them more closely. His thoughts quickly fell into place:

"These must be the other candidates. Each of them with desires and abilities as diverse as the possibilities we were given."

A shiver ran down his spine. The sheer power in the air was palpable, almost suffocating. Even without seeing their faces or hearing their voices, he knew these shadows represented competitors—potential gods in the making.

"How many of them wished for something insane? How many are too dangerous to leave alive?" Rodrigo wondered, trying not to show fear, even though no one seemed to be looking directly at him.

One shadow near him stood out, its presence particularly aggressive. It moved erratically, as if itching to attack something. Rodrigo kept an eye on it from the corner of his vision, outwardly calm but inwardly alert. He had no idea how to interact with these other chosen ones—or if he even should.

Then, a voice rang out, echoing like thunder across the sky yet whispering directly into the minds of everyone present:

"Welcome, candidates. This is the beginning of your journey to the throne of God."

Rodrigo instinctively turned toward the source of the voice but found only emptiness. The voice continued:

"You have been chosen because you possess potential. But only one of you can ascend the throne. Prove your worth, survive, and eliminate your rivals. The one who is deemed worthy shall receive eternal reward."

The words echoed in Rodrigo's mind as he struggled to process what he had just heard. Suddenly, the dozens of shadows around him began to vanish, as though erased by an invisible hand. One by one, they faded, leaving behind an oppressive void.

When it was over, Rodrigo realized only seven figures remained, including himself. The silence that followed was crushing.

The voice, the same as before, echoed again across the sky:

"The others do not pass. Now, letus return to what matters."

Rodrigo wasn't sure whether to feel relieved for advancing or worried about what it meant. He glanced around at the others. The six figures were no longer indistinct shadows; they appeared slightly more defined now, as if slowly emerging from a dense fog.

"Each of you will be assigned a number. The number you receive reflects your potential to become God. The one numbered first… is the one who holds the greatest divine potential of all."

The air around Rodrigo seemed to hum with energy, and then, without warning, a familiar figure appeared at the center of the sky.

It was him.

Akuro.

His presence dominated the space, even though his expression remained one of complete indifference. He was clad in black garments that seemed to absorb all the light around him, a stark contrast against the white sky. His neutral, almost apathetic face observed the seven chosen as if they were nothing more than insects.

"Congratulations on making it this far. Though, I must admit, the selection criteria were… basic." His voice was dispassionate, yet carried an underlying menace, as if he were toying with them.

Rodrigo felt a chill run down his spine. He didn't trust this man. There was something about Akuro that seemed more dangerous than anything Rodrigo had ever encountered—or imagined.

"Now..." Akuro continued, folding his arms. "You will discover your numbers. These will not only reflect your potential but also establish the hierarchy among you. Feel free to celebrate your luck—or curse your fate—it makes no difference to me."

A soft glow began to appear above each of the seven chosen, as though something was being revealed. Rodrigo looked up, his heart pounding.

"What will this mean? Will my number define me? Put me at a disadvantage, or…?"

He held his breath as the light above him began to solidify into a numerical symbol.

Rodrigo watched intently as the numbers above the others began to materialize, glowing faintly over their heads. He noted the sequence with growing unease:

2... 6... 4... 7... 5... 3.

Six of the chosen now bore their numbers. Rodrigo frowned. Something felt off. Where was the number 1?

"If 1 represents the highest potential, why hasn't it appeared yet? Was it not assigned to anyone?"

An unsettling thought crossed his mind. He hesitated for a moment before looking up, searching for the number that should be hovering above his own head.

The light above him began to intensify, glowing far brighter than the others. Rodrigo felt a shiver course through his body as the symbol finally took shape.

1.

The number blazed in a brilliant gold, its radiance making the others appear dull by comparison. A tense silence enveloped the space.

Rodrigo could feel the stares of the other six boring into him. It wasn't just curiosity or surprise—there was something deeper, something far more dangerous. He could sense the hostility, the envy, and even fear beginning to grow in their gazes.

Akuro, still wearing his indifferent expression, finally broke the silence:

"Ah, there it is—the number 1. It seems we've found our leading candidate."

He crossed his arms, a faint, mocking smile tugging at his lips as he looked directly at Rodrigo.

"Now, you all know who to eliminate first, don't you?"

Rodrigo clenched his fists, struggling to contain the wave of emotions surging through him. He knew Akuro's words weren't just a casual statement—they were a deliberate provocation, meant to turn the others against him.

"Damn it… this isn't going to be easy."

The other six continued to stare at him, their silence almost deafening, charged with tension. Rodrigo swallowed hard, trying to keep his composure as he grappled with the implications of being labeled as number 1.

Akuro, clearly satisfied with the atmosphere he had created, took a step forward, his eyes scanning the group once more.

His gaze glimmered with a mix of amusement and disdain. Raising one hand, he commanded the group's attention before anyone could react.

"Now that the rankings are established, there's something important you all need to know before this battle for the throne begins."

His voice was calm, yet it carried a weight that made every word feel inescapable.

"All the survivors in the world will be able to watch you. Think of it as a live broadcast. They'll be free to comment, judge, and even sponsor you with coins or other resources."

Rodrigo felt a chill at those words.

"So the whole world will be watching us as a spectacle… like pieces in a cruel game," he thought bitterly.

The other chosen exchanged uneasy glances. Some seemed irritated by the idea of being so exposed, while others looked intrigued by the potential to earn something from the audience.

"And the basic rules for this interaction?" Akuro continued. "You'll figure them out on your own. After all, it wouldn't be any fun if I handed everything to you on a silver platter."

He then turned his attention directly to Rodrigo, a faint, sarcastic smile curling his lips.

"Now, as for the number 1... As the lead candidate, you're entitled to an initial bonus. Something that might give you an early advantage."

Rodrigo raised an eyebrow, intrigued. He opened his mouth to ask for more details, but Akuro cut him off, raising a finger in warning.

"Before you try to get clever and ask for something grand, know this: this isn't like the wishes you've made before. There is no absolute power here. Think carefully, because your choice could make all the difference—or none at all, depending on how you use it."

Rodrigo crossed his arms, deep in thought. His mind quickly began sifting through possibilities.

"Something small… but with the potential to grow into something bigger. Something that gives me flexibility or a strategic edge…"

He looked at Akuro, who seemed to be enjoying his hesitation, and decided to ask for clarification.

"Does this extra have limitations? Can it be an object, a skill, or something more abstract?"

Akuro tilted his head, as if pondering the question. Finally, he answered:

"It depends on how you phrase the request. But remember, number 1, it won't save your life if you're stupid. Choose something practical. Something that makes sense in your context."

Rodrigo took a deep breath. It was time to decide.

His mind raced, jumping from one idea to another: legendary weapons, unparalleled abilities, or even mythical creatures.

"Excalibur? No. Too specific. Something like Gae Bolg? Also no… Even if it were Ea, it would be too limited in situations outside direct combat. I can't focus only on brute force."

He took a step back, both physically and mentally, allowing his thoughts to shift to a new perspective.

"I've already made the mistake of limiting myself with the Bab-ilu Key. Being invincible doesn't matter if my versatility is compromised. I need something that fills gaps, something that allows me to adapt to the unexpected."

Slowly, the answer began to take shape.

"Megumi Fushiguro… Ten Shadows."

Rodrigo closed his eyes, recalling the power of that technique.

"A skill that blends summoning, strategy, and versatility. It's not just about the individual shikigami… It's about how they can be used together. Each fusion, each combination, opens up new possibilities. And at the center of it all is Mahoraga. That monster can adapt to anything. It's the ultimate weapon—but using it requires extreme planning."

A chill ran down his spine as he thought about the implications.

"Over a thousand possible combinations. It's not just an arsenal of options—it's an entirely new dimension of possibilities. With this, I can create strategies for combat, defense, infiltration, even survival in unpredictable situations."

Rodrigo opened his eyes and took a deep breath.

"And the best part: Ten Shadows doesn't rely solely on brute strength. It demands intelligence, skill, and careful planning. Exactly the kind of power that aligns with Return by Death. Every mistake can be corrected with a new plan. Every restart can bring a more efficient use of the shikigami."

He glanced at Akuro, who appeared to be reading every expression on his face, his eyes a mixture of curiosity and boredom.

"I have to be cautious, but I know this is the right choice. No matter how strong Number 2 is, or how unpredictable the others might be. With Ten Shadows, I can adapt to anything. And if I have no other choice… Mahoraga will be there."

Rodrigo smirked slightly, a flicker of confidence surfacing.

"It's almost ironic. Akuro wants us to become gods, yet I'm choosing an ability that requires more work than raw power. That's what sets me apart. They'll give in to the temptation of immediate strength. I choose unlimited potential."

Straightening his posture, Rodrigo prepared to declare his decision.

"Let's see how he reacts."

Rodrigo stepped forward, his gaze locked on Akuro. Though Akuro's expression remained unreadable, his attention was sharp, as though he could feel the weight of the decision about to be made. The atmosphere thickened, as if the entire world was holding its breath. Rodrigo, with his mind clear after his intense internal monologue, finally spoke:

— "I want Megumi Fushiguro's Ten Shadows technique."

The silence that followed was deafening. Even the air seemed frozen in place. Akuro stood motionless, his face blank as he processed Rodrigo's words. Then, without warning, he lowered his head slightly, his hair falling forward to obscure his eyes.

The tension in the air grew unbearable. The other chosen stared in shock and suspicion, unable to grasp the full magnitude of Rodrigo's choice. Even Luana, still watching the broadcast from afar, clenched her fists tightly, dreading what might happen next.

Suddenly, a sound shattered the silence: laughter. Quiet at first, almost imperceptible, but it quickly grew louder. It was sharp, unhinged, overflowing with a mix of euphoria and madness.

Akuro slowly lifted his head, and his eyes—once neutral—now burned with something between fascination and sheer insanity. His laughter echoed through the space, as though the very sky was fracturing under its weight. He threw his head back, his shoulders shaking with the force of his mirth.

"Hahahahaha! YOU REALLY DO HAVE WHAT IT TAKES TO KILL EVERY LAST ONE OF THESE FOOLS, RODRIGO MACHADO!"

He stepped forward, his fiery gaze fixed on Rodrigo, pointing a bony, almost threatening finger at him.

"I knew it… I knew you were different from the moment you made your first choice. But now? NOW? You've surpassed even my expectations, boy!"

Akuro spread his arms wide, as if to embrace Rodrigo in an invisible gesture, his voice reverberating with an almost divine intensity.

"RODRIGO MACHADO, I HEREBY DECLARE YOU MY FAVORITE IN THIS WAR!"

The other chosen widened their eyes, some instinctively stepping back. Akuro's declaration wasn't comforting—it cast a shadow of fear. The being orchestrating this cruel battle had just named his "favorite."

Rodrigo, however, didn't react immediately. His face remained neutral, but his mind was racing.

"Favorite, huh? That's not exactly a good thing. He's throwing me under the spotlight… or worse, painting a target on my back."

Akuro slowly lowered his arms, though the psychotic grin lingered on his face.

"I expect great things from you, Rodrigo. But remember… being my favorite means I'll be watching you even more closely. Don't disappoint me."

With that, Akuro took a step back, his laughter fading into silence. The air grew quiet again, but the tension was suffocating. Rodrigo could feel the stares of the others on him—a mixture of curiosity, envy, and fear.

He took a deep breath, keeping his expression serious.

"If he wants to put me center stage, I'll use it. But I need to be careful. The war started long before the actual fighting."

Akuro gradually silenced his manic laughter, running a hand over his face as if wiping away any lingering traces of emotion. Straightening his posture, his eyes gleamed with a cold, calculating light. The grin vanished, replaced by an authoritative, stern expression.

"Now that everything is decided, let's move on to the next step." His voice sliced through the silence like a blade.

The chosen, still tense from his earlier display of madness, straightened themselves. Rodrigo remained stoic, though internally his mind was on high alert. Akuro raised his hand, making slow gestures that seemed to manipulate reality itself.

"You have been marked as the seven most promising among billions. Each of you carries a potential that could reshape existence. But potential without control or understanding is worthless." His gaze swept over the group, lingering on Rodrigo a second longer than the others before continuing. "That's why you will be sent to different worlds."

The chosen exchanged confused looks. One of them, the man marked with the number 6, spoke up, his voice betraying a hint of nervousness.

"Different worlds? What kind of worlds?"

Akuro didn't bother to look directly at him.

"Worlds designed to test you. Each of you will be placed in an environment tailored to explore your abilities, desires, and ambitions. You will need to learn, survive, and adapt."

He paused, his words hanging heavily in the air.

"These worlds will serve as a prelude to the true conflict. You will have a limited amount of time to grow accustomed to your choices and explore your powers. Use this time wisely, because after that…"

Akuro stretched out his hand, and a surge of energy rippled through the sky, as if heralding something grand.

"You will advance to the second phase of five."

Rodrigo narrowed his eyes, his instincts alert to the weight of the situation. Akuro continued:

— "The second phase is where the real fight for survival begins. Alliances can be formed… or broken. But I'll save the details for when you arrive there." He gave a faint smile, dripping with malice. "The only thing that matters for now is that, while you're in these worlds, everything you do will be broadcast to the survivors of your planet."

Rodrigo felt a faint unease stir in his chest.

"Broadcast to the world… So they'll watch everything, as if it's a show. Every mistake, every victory, every failure."

Akuro turned away, as if he'd finished his explanation, but then stopped, glancing back over his shoulder.

— "Ah, I almost forgot. Even though you'll be in separate worlds, you'll still have the chance to interact indirectly. Coins, as I mentioned earlier, can be sent by sponsors—or stolen from your competitors, depending on how you play."

He flashed a predatory smile, teeth gleaming like a wolf closing in on its prey.

— "So do your best to entertain. You're not just fighting for your lives… you're competing for the support of an entire world."

With a sudden motion, Akuro raised both hands, and the sky above began to fracture like shattered glass. The floating shards of reality tumbled away, revealing alternating voids of darkness and blinding light.

— "Now, go. Prove yourselves worthy of the title of successors… or perish trying."

Before anyone could protest or react, a circle of light appeared beneath each of the chosen. Rodrigo glanced down at the golden glow around his feet, feeling an irresistible force pulling him downward. He had only a moment to think before the light consumed him.

"Different worlds, sponsors, five phases… It feels like a game, but the stakes are real. I won't just be another pawn on this board."

Then everything went white again, and Rodrigo felt the weight of a new destiny settling heavily on his shoulders.

Rodrigo slowly opened his eyes, sensing a strange contrast between the softness of the ground beneath him and the lightness in his muscles. For a moment, he remained still, trying to process the sensations around him. He realized he was lying on something that felt like grass, but it was unlike any grass he had felt before: denser, almost cushioned, as if he were resting on a living mattress.

Above him, his view was partially obscured by plants. Lush, green foliage swayed gently in the breeze, blocking most of the sky but letting small beams of sunlight stream through the gaps. The light was peculiar—more golden and radiant than a normal sun, almost as if there were multiple sources of illumination.

He took a deep breath and noticed that the air was clean and fresh, carrying a subtle floral aroma that seemed to enhance his sense of calm. It was unlike anything he had ever experienced, as though every particle of the environment was designed to be perfect—yet oddly surreal.

Rodrigo slowly raised his arm, watching his hand against the light. There were no tremors, no wounds, no signs of exhaustion. It felt as if he were in peak physical condition, a renewed vitality coursing through his veins.

"This is strange..." he thought, pressing his palm against the grass and pushing himself into a sitting position.

As he sat up, he realized he was in a clearing surrounded by tall, robust vegetation. The plants were such a vivid shade of green that they almost seemed to hum with energy, and flowers in impossible colors bloomed in patterns that defied logic. Somewhere in the distance, the gentle sound of a running stream blended with the melodic calls of unfamiliar birds.

Rodrigo ran a hand across his face and through his hair, still trying to organize his thoughts.

"So, this is where it all begins? This is the world meant to 'adapt' me to my desires?"

He scanned his surroundings again, searching for anything familiar, but everything was alien. The trees were tall and gnarled, their trunks appearing to ripple as if alive. Some glimmered with a coppery sheen that reflected the ambient light, while others emitted a faint blue glow.

Placing a hand on his chest, he felt the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

"Return Through Death... Babylon Key... Ten Shadows... That's what I have. But where do I even begin? There's no manual for this."

Suddenly, a faint hum resonated in his mind, as if someone—or something—was trying to communicate. Instinctively, he closed his eyes, focusing to understand.

A cold, neutral voice echoed in his head:

[Welcome to the World of Adaptation. This environment is designed to test your abilities and develop your potential as a successor. Initial objective: Survive.]

Rodrigo's eyes snapped open, the once-inviting clearing now feeling significantly less welcoming.

"Survive, huh? Of course… because it was going to be easy."

He stood fully upright, stretching his muscles as he began surveying his surroundings more carefully. He knew this world, as beautiful as it seemed, could be just as dangerous. Every step would need to be calculated.

"First step: find a safe place. Second: test the limits of my abilities. Third…"

He paused, looking up at the sky now visible between the plants.

"Figure out why the hell I'm really here."

Closing his eyes for a moment, Rodrigo focused on the tasks ahead. The World of Adaptation was likely teeming with unknown threats, and he needed to explore his powers if he wanted to stay alive.

He centered his thoughts on one of his most strategic tools: the Ten Shadows Technique. He recalled its versatility, its potential for endless combinations, and the sheer power it held. Extending his hands in front of him, he interlocked his fingers to form a seal, channeling all his focus into the summoning.

The air around him grew heavier as he began to tap into the technique's energy, his mind sharp and ready for what came next.

But as he looked at his hands, a strange sensation of discomfort rippled through him. He had felt this before, though never as intensely. His porcelain-like hands glowed with an almost supernatural sheen. He ran his fingers over the smooth surface, and despite the energy coursing within him, something was undeniably wrong.

The hands he expected to see—marked with the wear of hard work and effort—were now unnervingly pristine and pale. There were no signs of strain, no indication that he was invoking a powerful ability.

Rodrigo frowned. It wasn't just the appearance of his skin that felt off. Something about the energy radiating from his hands wasn't right. He tried again, forcing the motion to summon the power, but it slipped through his fingers, intangible and distant, as though he couldn't properly connect with what he was trying to bring forth.

"What's happening?" he thought, frustration beginning to seep in. He should have been able to access this power with ease—or at least see some sign of the shadows manifesting.

For a moment, he held his hands out in silence, focusing intently, searching for any shift, any hint that the shadows might emerge. But there was nothing. No familiar presence, no tingling sensation, no flow of energy as he knew it.

Staring at his hands, realization began to creep in, sharp and unwelcome: he wasn't able to summon his powers correctly. Something was fundamentally off, blocking the connection between him and his desires.

"Why the hell are my hands like this?" he thought, frustration bubbling into anger. Could it be his appearance? Or perhaps the "essence" he chose was interfering with the process?

Doubt began to take hold, simmering like an ember in his chest. It wasn't enough to be thrust into this new world with a body that felt unfamiliar—now he seemed to have lost the ability to wield the very powers he had been counting on.

The thought of losing control, of being unable to execute his plans, sent his mind racing. He knew that without his powers, he was at an extreme disadvantage in this world. Survival was the only goal, and weakness wasn't an option.

Rodrigo took a step back, letting his arms fall to his sides as he inhaled deeply, forcing himself to calm down. The first thing he needed to do was assess the situation.

The forest's quiet wrapped around him, amplifying the weight of his thoughts. He tilted his head back to look at the sky, as though seeking answers.

"What's wrong with my body? My abilities? What does this world even want from me?"

One thing, however, became clear: he couldn't afford to wait for something to happen. He had to act.

Shaking his head to dispel the lingering frustration, Rodrigo refocused. If the Ten Shadows couldn't be summoned as he expected, it was time to test his other abilities. He needed to understand why his connection to his powers felt severed.

Calm as he tried to appear, the frustration gnawed at him. He thought of the Babylon Key, the space-time manipulation power he had desired—a vast, awe-inspiring ability that would allow him to reshape reality itself. The mere thought of invoking it filled his mind with vivid images of portals tearing open, of raw, limitless energy bending space and time to his will.

Yet, when he attempted to summon it, there was nothing.

No surge of power, no ripple in the air, no indication that the Babylon Key was even present. His fingers, which once moved instinctively with purpose, now felt disconnected, devoid of any link to the immense power he envisioned.

He tried again, positioning his hands and mentally commanding the opening of Babylon's Gate. But like before—nothing. No hum of energy, no flicker of light, no reaction whatsoever.

"This can't be happening," Rodrigo thought, his expression hardening as doubt clouded his mind.

"Why aren't my abilities working?"

He lowered himself to the ground, sitting cross-legged, as he tried to make sense of the situation. It felt as though he were trapped in a place where the universe's rules no longer aligned with what he understood. This was different.

This was wrong.

Could it be that…?

Rodrigo's thoughts turned to Akuro—the being who had laid out the rules of this new world and seemed to control everything. He recalled the way Akuro had spoken and acted, almost as if he knew something more, something Rodrigo couldn't grasp.

Could he have undone my desires? The doubt grew stronger. Rodrigo couldn't dismiss the possibility that Akuro had manipulated his choices, perhaps erasing or altering what he had wished for without him realizing it. That would explain the changes in his body and the failure of his abilities to manifest.

But why? What would he gain from this? What reason could Akuro have to deactivate Rodrigo's powers?

Rodrigo closed his eyes for a moment, drawing a deep breath. He didn't have all the answers, but one thing was clear: he couldn't afford to be powerless. His objective remained the same—survival, no matter what had happened to his abilities. If his desires had been erased or were somehow beyond his reach, he would need to find another way forward.

The thought of not having absolute control over his powers gnawed at him, but it also brought an important realization: he couldn't rely solely on his abilities to win. He needed to be sharper, more adaptable. The memory of Akuro's words echoed in his mind—survival, worthiness.

With renewed resolve, Rodrigo stood, feeling the gentle breeze brush through his hair. Nothing would be easy here; this was only the beginning of the challenges and traps this world would throw at him.

He scanned the dense forest again, his instincts warning him not to trust the serenity of the place. He knew there were others—players who might be just as prepared, if not more so, than he was. The shadows Akuro had spoken of were there, lurking. Everyone had something to lose, and Rodrigo understood that only the strongest would emerge victorious.

Still, a lingering question remained in his mind. If his desires had been altered, perhaps there was a reason behind it—something tied to the very nature of the World of Adaptation that he hadn't yet uncovered.

With a more determined expression, Rodrigo took a step forward, resolving to explore further. The clearing no longer felt welcoming, but that didn't matter. What he needed now was to uncover the rules of this game, to figure out what he could truly accomplish in this place. Most importantly, he needed to discover who he really was in this moment, stripped of the powers he thought he had.

He glanced once more at his hands. No longer were they the pristine porcelain-like hands he had first noticed. Now they were just his hands—perhaps the key to something he didn't yet understand. He had no idea what awaited him next, but one thing was certain: he wouldn't stand still, surrendering to uncertainty.

Rodrigo

The sound of running water caught my attention. A river. Small, quiet, hidden among the trees. For a moment, it was as if the chaos in my mind had stilled. I needed to see my reflection. I didn't know why, but something told me there was something very wrong with me—with this skin, with this body.

I approached slowly, each step sinking slightly into the damp ground. The heavy boots made a dull crunch as they crushed fallen leaves and branches. When I reached the edge of the river, I knelt down. The movement was involuntary, almost instinctive. The surface of the water rippled under the soft wind, but I could still see... him.

No. I could see... myself.

The shock nearly stopped my heart. My body froze, eyes wide, trying to absorb every detail of the thing staring back at me. My skin... it wasn't mine. It was far too pale, white as porcelain, smooth and cold, almost artificial, lifeless. My breath caught in my throat as my trembling hand reached for my face. It was real. As real as the wind rustling through the trees.

My fingers brushed against my cheek. It felt rigid, cold, like a mask sculpted over bone. As my hand moved upward toward my eyes... I stopped. There were spikes—twisted, sharp bones emerging from my skull like a cruel crown. The sensation of touching them sent a shiver through me. They were part of me.

"What is this...?"

My voice came out hoarse, low, almost a whisper, but it echoed like a verdict in my head.

My gaze dropped to my lips. A smile. A wide, unnatural smile. It had been there all along, whether I wanted it or not. My mouth was curved as if mocking me, the teeth sharp and perfectly aligned, as white as my skin. It couldn't be human. It couldn't be... me.

I narrowed my eyes. The smile didn't disappear.

I looked down at the outfit. Black. Dark as the deepest night. Thick leather, heavy, with metallic buckles wrapping tightly around my body in layered bands, as if trying to contain something within me. Why? The precision of the straps was unnerving, almost surgical, like a blend of armor and restraint.

My hands, encased in equally dark gloves, creaked as I clenched my fists. When I looked up again, I saw the hat on my head. A wide-brimmed hat, with two sharp, horn-like points jutting upward. Every angle of my silhouette seemed designed to intimidate, to draw the worst fears from anyone who saw me.

"No..." I muttered, backing away from the reflection, my heart pounding. "This can't be..."

I knew this. The smile, the outfit, the spikes, the oppressive presence of that body. My hands trembled as memories pieced themselves together like a puzzle. In the comics, in the stories I'd read countless times, I had seen this abomination before.

"The Batman Who Laughs."

The words slipped from my lips, heavy with a mix of horror and disbelief. That was it. I was in the body of The Batman Who Laughs—a twisted version of the Dark Knight, a being that combined Batman's relentless intellect with the Joker's madness and sadism.

"Why? Why this?!"

My screams echoed through the empty forest, but there was no answer. The river kept flowing, indifferent to my existence. My mind spun, my stomach churned. This didn't make sense. Had my desire been turned into this? Or was this Akuro's doing? Had he tampered with me? With my powers?

I clenched my fists, the spikes on my head seeming to thrum with the motion. The anger and helplessness burned inside me. If this was the body I had now, there was no going back. The world—or whoever was responsible—had given me a monster to inhabit.

For a moment, I stared again at the reflection. The wicked smile didn't fade, as if mocking me. No matter how much I raged, no matter how hard I tried, it was there.

"If this is what I am now..." I whispered, rising to my feet, the leather of my boots creaking against the damp ground. "Then so be it."

The wind blew harder, whipping the frayed edges of my coat like black wings ready to unfurl. My silhouette distorted in the river's reflection, and for a moment, I saw something beyond—a shadow larger, darker, denser than me, as if it were waiting to be unleashed.

I swallowed hard.

"If the world wants me to be a monster, then I'll become this place's worst nightmare."

I turned my back on the river, my cold, empty gaze fixed on the forest ahead. This body, this damned appearance... they wouldn't stop me.

The cold breeze continued to weave through the trees, making the shadows dance around me. The sensation of the wind against my skin—or whatever this pale, artificial shell was—brought me back to a sliver of reality.

I was here. Alive. Breathing.

But why?

The Batman Who Laughs. The thought hammered in my mind like an unrelenting echo. If I was trapped in this body, with this demonic appearance and that insufferable smile... one question lingered: Were my desires respected? My first wish—"Return Through Death." Had it come with me? Or had that wretch Akuro simply rewritten everything I'd asked for?

"There's no other way to know..." I murmured to myself, my voice rough and low.

My eyes dropped to my hands—those pale hands and my long, strangely sharp fingers. I tried to ignore the subtle pulse I felt at the base of the bone "crowns" protruding from my head, as if they were alive, reacting to my thoughts.

What if... what if I didn't have the Return Through Death? The idea sent a chill down my spine, but the truth was, there weren't many options. I had to test it.

The idea of dying didn't scare me. Not anymore. It's not like I was in a hurry to return to my old life. Work? Dealing with people? No, thank you. My old routine, that endless cycle, seemed more suffocating than anything this forest could offer. Dying... well, dying would be a rest.

Maybe the only rest I'd get in a long time.

"So, this is it..." I let out a long sigh, rising slowly. The hem of my black coat dragged across the ground, like a living shadow following me. "I'll die just to be sure."

The sound of the words that left my mouth felt surreal. Who, in their right mind, says something like that? But I wasn't the same person anymore. I looked again at my reflection in the river, that wide, twisted smile that wouldn't disappear, and my decision solidified.

"It's not like I have anything to lose, right?" I said, almost laughing at myself.

I knelt by the rock, my gloves creaking as I clenched my fists. My eyes focused on the rough surface. It would hurt, no doubt, but the pain would be temporary. And if the Return Through Death really worked, I'd wake up at some earlier point. Everything would reset like a checkpoint.

"Alright... just hit my head... hard enough," I told myself, feeling a shiver run down my spine. It was ridiculous that I had to say this.

I took a deep breath, filling my lungs with air. The shadows around me seemed darker, denser, as if the very environment was waiting to see what would happen. Was Akuro watching me? Could the Constellations of this world see my madness?

Doesn't matter.

With one last sigh, I bent my body and threw my head against the rock.

The pain was instant. Brutal.

The sensation of impact surged through my skull like an electric shock. The muffled sound of the crash echoed in my ears, mixed with the snap of something—probably bones. My vision filled with white light, then went completely dark.

...

...

"…What...?"

Suddenly, a rush of air filled my lungs. Suddenly. As if I had been pulled back to the surface after sinking into deep water. My breath came in ragged gasps, heavy and painful.

"Shit...!"

I opened my eyes abruptly. The scene around me... was the same. The forest. The river. The sound of leaves rustling in the wind.

I was lying on the wet grass, my head pounding but unharmed. My skin remained as pale as porcelain, and the weight of the heavy coat was still there, as a reminder that this body was mine.

"It works..." I whispered, almost disbelieving. My voice was shaky, a low, nervous laugh escaping right after. "It works!"

The "Return Through Death." It was here. I came back.

The clearing seemed to have pulled me back exactly where I started, seconds before I killed myself. The same cold wind, the same position. It was as if the world had rewound, erasing that last second where I chose to die.

I stood up slowly, feeling my muscles oddly light. I ran a hand over my head, but there was no sign of the impact. No blood. Nothing.

"So this is it. I can die... and come back."

The twisted smile in the reflection in the river didn't seem so out of place anymore. It matched the feeling that began to grow inside me: a mix of relief and... danger.

If this power worked, then I could test the limits. If dying didn't mean the end, what would stop me from exploring this world? From becoming stronger? From understanding everything that happened to me?

"Akuro... whatever you did to me, this won't be enough to stop me," I muttered, gazing at the horizon through the trees.

The forest seemed a little less intimidating now.

I didn't know what awaited me, but one thing was certain: I no longer feared death.

The world around me seemed to fall silent, as if even the forest had stopped to watch as I stood up. Each movement I made was accompanied by the rustling of the long coat, the sound of the heavy fabric sliding against the wet grass. My hands, those black gloves, pressed firmly against the ground as my body returned to a standing position.

My head still throbbed with the memory of the impact, even though physically there was no pain or marks. It was strange how my brain still seemed to process the trauma of what I had done, even knowing that the body was intact.

"Alright..." I murmured to myself, my eyes scanning the surroundings. "This confirms one thing: the 'Return Through Death' is here."

My voice was firmer, but the weight of my words fell upon me like a stone. One of my wishes had been fulfilled. But what about the others?

Bab-ilu Key.

I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to focus again on that power. I extended my arm forward, my fingers still covered by the black glove, and visualized exactly what I wanted: the manifestation of space and time bending to my will. A portal. A key. Any sign of power...

Nothing.

Not a flicker, not a pulse of energy. Not even a sensation. It was as if my attempt was nothing more than an empty gesture. I stood there, hand raised for a few more seconds, feeling the humiliation slowly rise in my chest.

"…Damn."

I sighed, letting my arm drop to my side. The weight of the coat made the gesture feel even more final, like a period at the end of a sentence. The Bab-ilu Key wasn't working.

"Was it removed? Or… blocked?" I murmured, my voice low as the wind blew again through the trees.

My lips tightened into a thin line, and the grotesque, permanent smile in the reflection of the water seemed to mock me. "Akuro, you bastard… what did you do to my wishes?"

The truth was, the Key wasn't my only problem. The Ten Shadows had also failed. I remembered how I tried to summon them, bringing my hands together in that familiar gesture, only to face those white, strange hands with no result. What could that mean?

"If it's blocked… why?" I asked myself, my voice almost a whisper. "Or is there some condition I haven't discovered yet?"

The possibilities were endless. Akuro might have simply undone my wishes or placed restrictions he didn't explain. Perhaps the powers would only manifest after some kind of test or specific event. I really didn't know.

"But the Return Through Death works… so not everything is lost."

That brought me a small measure of comfort. At least I had one power. A power that, if used correctly, could keep me alive long enough to understand everything that was going on. But that only brought more questions.

"How does the return point work?" I thought aloud, beginning to walk slowly through the clearing, my eyes sweeping the surroundings. "Is it fixed? Or does it change depending on something?"

The ground creaked under my heavy boots, and with each step, more thoughts piled up in my mind. I needed answers.

Then, a new detail surfaced. The body. This body wasn't just any body: it was the Batman Who Laughs.

"Does that mean... I'm a Batman?" The words came out uncertain, but just saying them out loud made my chest feel even heavier.

The Batman, or Bruce Wayne, was known for one thing that transcended even his physical limits: his superior intellect. Genius, strategist, detective. Bruce Wayne was the pinnacle of the human mind, someone capable of facing anyone, even beings with divine powers, using only his intelligence.

And now, I was in this body.

The question hit me like an electric shock: did I inherit Bruce's intellect?

I stood in silence for a few seconds, the cold wind passing by me again. If I truly possessed the intellect of a Batman—even a corrupted version—then that meant... I could be much more than I thought.

"Testing this will be... interesting." A smile—or perhaps that damn permanent smile—seemed to stretch even wider in the reflection I glimpsed at the edge of the river.

But there was something else: the nature of the Batman Who Laughs. He wasn't just a Batman. He was a Batman corrupted by the Joker's madness. A macabre balance between absolute intellect and absolute chaos. And I...? Where did I fit into that?

I didn't feel insane. My mind was intact, perhaps more focused than ever. The twisted smile on my face might be fixed, but it wasn't mine.

Still, a doubt hammered at the back of my mind: would I eventually succumb to this body?

"No. I am me."

My determination was enough to push that doubt away... for now.

"First step, then," I said to myself, lifting my face to confront the trees around me. "Figure out what I can do. Test the limits of this body, this mind... and maybe understand why my other wishes are blocked."

My gaze fell on the horizon of the forest, where the green began to mix with deeper shadowy tones. I had nothing but this body, this power, and the clarity that dying didn't mean the end.

Did Akuro think he had control over me? That he had me trapped here, weak, without answers?

"If he thinks this will stop me… he's very wrong."

I started walking, my heavy steps echoing against the absolute silence. I was a man lost in a body that wasn't mine, in a world I didn't know.

But if I had the intellect of a Batman, the madness of a Joker... and the Return Through Death?

Then I wasn't someone who could be easily defeated.

I was an anomaly, and nothing in this world would stop me from breaking its rules.

The sound of my boots resonated softly against the damp forest floor as I walked aimlessly. Each step dragged a little of the mud under the weight of the black coat, which trailed behind me like an extension of the shadows around me. The forest was dense, the tall trees blocking nearly all the light that tried to filter through, creating a suffocating and oppressive scene. The only sound besides my steps was the murmur of the wind rustling the branches and the dry leaves scattered on the ground.

"Strange..." My voice echoed softly in the solitude of that place.

I paused for a moment, closing my eyes and inhaling the cold, damp air. The feeling of the Return Through Death was still with me, like a fresh memory, a scar that hadn't hurt physically, but had left an invisible mark on me.

"It was like... a warm-up."

That was the best way to describe it. The death was real, the impact visceral, and then... everything just came back. There was no interval, no pause in the void. One moment I was dead, the sound of my own grotesque laughter echoing in the silence, and the next, I was back, lying on the ground as if nothing had happened.

No waiting time.

That detail worried me more than I wanted to admit. Subaru Natsuki, the "original" owner of this power, always had an interval between dying and reviving. That dark void, almost like a space outside of reality, where he just waited to be pulled back.

Not with me.

"The time is immediate..." I murmured, starting to walk slowly again. "Is that good or bad?"

My eyes swept over the shadows of the forest, still alert to any movement, even though I had no idea what to expect there. The "immediate time" of the Return seemed efficient, of course. I died and immediately returned to the starting point, no time wasted.

But what if...

The thought came like a cold wave sweeping over me. What if I died repeatedly? One death after another, with no rest, no interval.

A loop.

My throat went dry just thinking about it. An endless sequence of deaths where the time between one end and the next was zero. The mere idea of falling into that cycle, where each death carried the weight of the previous one, was enough to send a shiver down my spine.

"That would be hell."

My voice came out hoarse, almost as if I were trying to push the thought away. I rubbed my gloved hands together, feeling the sturdy black leather under my fingers. The permanent smile on my face—or rather, the face of the Batman Who Laughs—seemed to constantly remind me that I was trapped in this body.

But what if the Bab-ilu Key wish had been swapped for something?

The idea made me stop in my tracks. I slowly turned my face toward the ground, looking at the dark, damp earth beneath my feet, deep in thought.

"Did Akuro... swap my wish?"

It was a valid theory. If the Return Through Death was confirmed and the Ten Shadows were silent, then something was out of place. The absence of the Bab-ilu Key could be the result of some swap that wasn't revealed to me.

But what?

My gaze turned back to my hands. I slowly opened and closed my fingers, feeling the stiffness of the gloves, the weight of the body I now inhabited. An idea occurred to me. Maybe... if I had something in place of the Bab-ilu Key, it could be a power, an ability, or even something more subtle I hadn't noticed yet.

"How should I... test this?"

I left the question hanging in the air, knowing that no one would answer it. My mind began to work, organizing the facts amidst the uncertainty. If Akuro altered my wish, it meant that something different was now within me, something he deemed more appropriate or entertaining for the game he wanted to play with me.

But how to find out?

I needed to test my capabilities thoroughly. I already knew that death was real, and the return was immediate. So, what else?

— Maybe I need a confrontation. Something that forces me to use instincts I didn't know I had.

My voice sounded firmer now, the tone slightly low and hoarse, which suited the body of the Batman Who Laughs disturbingly well. The scenery around me seemed to resonate with my decision—twisted trees, the wind picking up, and the sound of leaves dancing like whispered warnings.

If there was something to be discovered, I needed to put myself in a situation where adrenaline and instinct would take over. I needed to know what more this body could do.

And deep down, a darker part of my mind whispered: it would be fun.

I narrowed my eyes, the twisted grin still frozen on my face, but now, the expression felt like mine.

— First, survive. Then, understand. — I murmured, walking faster now, each step echoing with more certainty on the damp ground.

The doubts were still many, but there was something reassuring about my situation. I didn't need everything figured out now. The Return was with me. No matter how many times I fell, no matter how many mistakes I made: I would return.

The important thing was to learn with every return.

The wind blew strong again, like a warning, but instead of hesitating, my grin seemed to widen.

I walked slowly through the forest, my footsteps echoing between the twisted trees like a constant beat, almost like a clock marking time—time that, now, seemed to be mine. The cold wind blew against my face, lifting the brim of my black hat, and my mind was buzzing with thoughts that didn't seem to want to quiet down.

"The Return through Death…"

I could feel the weight of that power pulsing inside me, even though it wasn't something visible or tangible. It was a brutal, merciless ability, something that defied the most basic laws of life and death. Subaru Natsuki, the poor soul who carried this burden in the world of Re:Zero, used it as a sacrifice, as a tool to save the people he loved.

I didn't have those kinds of ties.

Subaru had something that held him back, something that kept him morally "correct"—the people around him, his friends, his responsibilities. He didn't abuse the Return because he knew the emotional price it carried. With each death, he accumulated suffering, trauma, the vision of his own flesh being torn apart. For him, dying was a hell.

For me?

— Win and win... — I whispered to myself, the macabre grin of the Batman Who Laughs making the phrase even more chilling.

This ability was now mine. I didn't have a group of friends to save, no family to protect, and no sense of responsibility for a world that wasn't mine. I had nothing to lose. When you reach that point, abusing a power like the Return through Death ceases to be a matter of "ethics" and becomes pure pragmatism.

What would hold me back? Morality? The low laugh that escaped my throat seemed to echo through the trees, laden with an almost insane tone.

Morality is irrelevant.

It was a social construct, something created by a group of individuals to live together in harmony. Rules to maintain order, to prevent a soldier from betraying his group, to stop a citizen from stealing, killing, or destroying what another values. But morality is fragile. When the walls collapse, when chaos reigns and the "I" outweighs the "we," morality crumbles like ash in the wind.

— And ethics? — I murmured, stopping for a moment and looking around, as if the trees had something to answer.

Ethics is different.

It's what you do when no one is watching. A thin, invisible line that separates someone's true essence from the image they project to others. We could summarize morality as what stops a soldier from betraying his group, while ethics is what prevents him from shooting a comrade when they're alone in the battlefield, with no witnesses, no judgment.

But what about me? My ethics had been corrupted long ago. Maybe they never even existed. Now, with the Return through Death in my hands, morality seemed like a pathetic concept, almost a joke. The universe had given me a trump card that couldn't be beaten, so why not use it?

— If I die, I come back. — My voice sounded cold and firm, and I realized there was no hesitation in me. — If I make a mistake, I come back.

In a way, it was liberating. While the world struggled in an endless cycle of fear and consequences, I could restart the game as many times as necessary. Death? It was no longer an end. It was just a correction.

I resumed walking, the black coat trailing behind me, absorbing the mud as if the shadows were feeding off the forest. Each step now felt more solid, more confident.

And then there was the matter of my new body.

The physique I now inhabited wasn't just human; it was almost superhuman. I felt stronger, faster, and had a resistance that seemed unbreakable. It was the body of a distorted version of Batman, a being carrying Bruce Wayne's intellect and the Joker's madness. The Batman Who Laughs... but I was more. I had the intact consciousness of who I was—Rodrigo—and the advantage of being someone with no ties.

I suddenly stopped, clenching my fists.

If I could get the Ten Shadows, the power I wished for along with the Return through Death, then... then I would become unstoppable. Think about it: Bruce Wayne's brilliant intellect combined with summoning powers, the ability to create an army of shadows with divine beasts under my command. Even if the Bab-ilu Key was lost, this power would be enough.

— Ethics, morality... none of that matters when you're above the rules. — I spoke, almost as if explaining it to myself.

The wind blew again, strong enough to make the trees creak around me. My shadow stretched under the dim light of the moon that had finally managed to pierce the canopy, and the image it projected on the ground seemed almost distorted. A man in a hat and long coat, with that terrible grin that seemed to split his face in two.

I chuckled low, the sound coming naturally this time.

— I'm in a situation where I can only win. — The tone in my voice was full of determination, almost fierce. — If this power is mine, then I will use it.

Two rules would govern my new existence: survive and win. It didn't matter how many times I had to die to do so. It didn't matter what lines I had to cross.

And if the world was unfair enough to challenge me? Well, I would break the rules. After all, now they didn't apply to me anymore.

...

My footsteps echoed through the forest as the silence around me grew, interrupted only by the rustling of leaves beneath my feet. The air inside was heavy, humid, almost as if it wanted to trap me within its bowels forever. I didn't know how much time had passed since my last death—minutes? Hours? It didn't matter. The weight of my situation still lingered, but I carried it more lightly now, like an inevitable burden.

Finally, between the twisted trees, a burst of light became visible. A small smile curved the corners of my lips. I quickened my pace, almost running now, with an excitement I hadn't felt in ages—the genuine curiosity of what awaited me. Emerging from the shadows of the forest, the light hit me, blinding me for a brief moment.

When my eyes finally adjusted... there it was.

Distant horizons, a sea of ancient rooftops, all made of wood, in a distinctly Japanese style. Wide streets snaked between the buildings, where people moved like ants seen from above. The sky was a crystal-clear blue, the sun shining with a calm intensity, and for a second, that scene felt strangely familiar.

— It can't be... — I murmured, my eyes fixed on the landscape.

But before any conclusions could be drawn, my body acted on its own. Something between an instinct and an impulse—a need to move, to see more closely. I descended the small slope leading to the town, my black coat billowing behind me, my walk firm yet deliberate.

As I moved forward, people started to become visible. Ordinary, human faces, but their gazes followed me as I entered the busy street. I noticed their expressions change: looks of fear, distrust, and... terror.

— They're staring at me... — I thought, almost amused.

It wasn't hard to understand. Picture this: a tall figure, dressed entirely in black, pale skin, a hat casting shadows over the face, and of course, that distorted grin. I probably looked like a specter that had crawled out of their worst nightmares. A whisper or two echoed through the crowd, but I ignored it.

I walked leisurely, passing them like a shadow that didn't care for the living. Their bodies naturally parted, making way, as if the mere presence of the Batman Who Laughs was enough to displace any trace of courage. I was beginning to enjoy this.

Then, again, that instinct. Stop walking. Climb. See.

My eyes swept over the buildings around me. Tall rooftops, sturdy wooden walls, an architecture that looked like it had stepped out of feudal Japan. I looked at my hands, now pale and thin, almost cadaverous, but strong—very strong. Without thinking much, I took a step toward one of the walls. My fingers gripped the old wood, and with a fluid motion, I propelled myself upward.

My body responded like a perfectly tuned clock.

— Parkour...? — I whispered, almost incredulous.

My feet found small footholds between the planks. My hands, agile and precise, gripped every crack as if they knew exactly what to do. It felt natural. In seconds, I had climbed to the rooftop, the wind blowing stronger up there, the height offering me an even broader view.

I took a deep breath, feeling the freshest air at that point. My hands trembled slightly, and when I looked at them, the sunlight made my pale skin seem even more sickly. I couldn't help it. A laugh escaped my lips—low, hoarse, and growing more intense.

— Hahaha... This is real. This is... mine.

I stood up, letting the wind toss my black coat. With slow steps, I walked to the edge of the roof and looked toward the horizon. The scene, the buildings, the crowd below that had already begun to ignore me, blending into their routine... And then I saw it. There, in the distance, more structures, massive walls stretching as far as the eye could see. My heart stopped for a second.

I know this place.

It was impossible not to recognize. The architecture, the layout of the streets, that horizon bounded by enormous walls. A name came to my mind, clear and inevitable:

— Seireitei...

My heart, which had seemed so calm moments ago, beat fiercely. It wasn't an illusion. It wasn't a dream or delusion. I was in the world of Bleach. The soul of this place was unmistakable. The city seemed calm now, but beneath the surface, I knew what this meant.

— I'm in the Soul Society. — I said to myself, a tone of surprise mixed with satisfaction.

My laugh lightened, but it was laced with irony. The universe had thrown me here, into the heart of one of the most dangerous and fascinating places I could imagine. And me? I was in the body of a monster, with a power that, until now, seemed infinite.

"Return through Death, the body of the Batman Who Laughs, maybe even the Ten Shadows..."

I had an arsenal of potential that would make anyone fear me, and the stage on which I could move was nothing less than the Soul Society. I looked at the horizon, my eyes gleaming with a mix of ambition and purpose.

— Let's see how far this goes.

With a firm step, I continued across the rooftop, the shadow trailing behind me, as if I were the very night taking form. The world of Bleach had no idea what was about to face it.

To be continued.