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UPGRADE 1 — Ragdoll Physics (Garry's Mod)
Type: Biomechanical Alteration · Passive
Rank: F-
The laws of anatomy and inertia are nullified and replaced by the physics engine of an unstable sandbox. The subject ceases to respond to conventional biology, instead succumbing to the chaos of impact. Whether it is a critical hit or a bullet:
The bearer always collapses.
Instant Elasticity: Upon even the slightest impact, bones and joints turn rubbery for 10 seconds.
Involuntary Collapse: The operator immediately falls to the ground, assuming anatomically impossible poses.
Momentum Nullification: Physical damage is sustained, but the force of the impact is dissipated through erratic spasms on the ground.
Limitation: The ragdoll state is uncontrollable. The subject loses all capacity for conscious movement for the duration of the effect. While the body is in this state, the subject is vulnerable to being kicked, dragged, or stacked as if they were a toy.
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UPGRADE 2 — Anvil Magnet (Looney Tunes)
Type: Probability Alteration · Passive
Rank: F-
The fabric of reality around the bearer becomes unstable and cartoonish, generating a magnetic anomaly that affects only cast-iron objects located directly overhead. Physical logic is suspended to allow for the sudden manifestation of mass from impossible angles.
Dangerous Static: A vertical attraction field activates at random moments, drawing in comically large and heavy objects.
Warning Whistle: The falling object emits a high-pitched, descending sound that alerts everyone within a 5-meter radius, but reduces the bearer's ability to evade due to induced comic panic.
Limitation: The magnet is indiscriminate. The bearer cannot control when the attraction stops or where the object falls once summoned. If impact occurs, the bearer's body suffers massive structural compression (accordion effect), leaving them incapacitated and at the mercy of any external threat until their anatomy regains its original three-dimensionality after a few seconds... or they die.
Whichever comes first.
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—Damn it, it's worse than I imagined.
Rémy scratched his head dejectedly as he analyzed the effects. No matter how you looked at it, both "upgrades" were actually a curse for any poor wretch unlucky enough to bear them; the only possible outcome was being dragged to hell or condemned to a miserable existence. Now, he felt even less certain about which of the cards —still locked, with no clue as to whether they concealed characters or objects— he should assign such curses to.
It wasn't until the next day, with a clear mind and a full stomach, that he decided to leave it all to chance. Truth be told, he didn't really have many other options...
Erick and Rémy reached into the briefcase; with his eyes closed, Rémy shuffled the cards in his hands and then laid them out on a table.
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—UPGRADES SUCCESSFULLY INTEGRATED—
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Rémy's tense shoulders relaxed as a strange tingling sensation rose from his stomach to his throat.
—¿You're doing this on purpose, aren't you? — Erick asked, scratching his navel.
—¿What are you talking about? — Rémy asked, on the verge of activating one of the cards.
The boy listed everything that had happened: his own summoning, Rémy's forced gender swap, and—with heavy emphasis—his own near-death experience at the business end of a gun. Problem after problem constantly threatened both their lives or affected them in convoluted ways.
—You say they're forcing you to do who-knows-what kind of shit, but I don't see anyone pointing a gun at you. ¡Like they did to me!
Rémy couldn't find the right words, partly because Erick was somewhat right. Staring blankly at the ceiling, Rémy explained his theories on what might happen if he just sat tight and actively ignored his system. It might simply vanish and let him live his life in peace, or it might kill him on the spot and move on to pester the next moron with absurd elimination tasks.
—I don't see anyone forcing you to keep summoning thi—
----------------------------------------------------
—ALERT—
The operator has been an asshole for too long. The voluntary selection limit has been reached; all unredeemed rewards will now be unlocked.
----------------------------------------------------
—¡No, wait!
Rémy shouted, uselessly reaching a hand out into the void. The cards orbiting him exploded into a kaleidoscope of jarring lights—a burst of pixels and energy that washed over every corner of the briefcase before the six remaining orbs materialized with a deafening hum.
—¡Take cover, fatty! — though his warning was lost in the chaos.
The mere displacement of air caused by the violent energy of the summonings was enough to lift Rémy's body. He was sent flying through the air and bounced off the trash cans he had arranged himself just hours earlier, landing with the lightness of a deflated balloon.
—¡I told you that faggot shit of yours would get us killed! — Erick coughed from somewhere across the room.
Rémy wanted to complain about the pain in his ribs, but a cheerful beeping sound in his head cut him off. A translucent screen unfurled right in front of his nose, illuminating a nearby banana peel.
----------------------------------------------------
—FORCED MULTIPLE SUMMON: SUCCESSFUL—
Title Unlocked: Suicidal Procrastinator
Description: Ignoring six rewards until the very last second requires nerves of steel... or a total lack of brains.
Consolation Prize: +1 Luck point (you clearly need it).
----------------------------------------------------
«This is going to hurt»
Rémy thought, closing his eyes in resignation. Meanwhile, in the outside world—inside Rémy's room—the briefcase seemed to have been possessed by a poltergeist. It bounced back and forth on the bed, spewing beams of light from its seams and emitting deafening roars that rattled the windowpanes, showing a total and absolute disregard for the neighbors' peace of mind.
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—REWARDS 1/6 (RANK F)—
Type: Garment / Vintage fashion
Name: Alice's Bow
World of origin: Alice in Wonderland.
Description: An immaculate, gigantic sky-blue silk bow that looks as if it were torn straight from the head of a Victorian girl or a children's storybook illustration. Its knots are geometrically perfect, and the fabric drapes so neatly it is almost offensive to the eye. It retains a perpetual satin sheen, clashing violently with any life-or-death situation. It is an absurdly pristine accessory that refuses to get soiled by blood, sweat, or dust; it is designed less for adornment and more to strip away every last ounce of seriousness and dignity from whoever has the misfortune of wearing it.
Basically useless.
INTEGRATED UPGRADES:
-Ragdoll Physics (Garry's Mod)
Upon equipping this item, the effects will activate once the usage conditions are met.
Note: You are now a cute girl.
----------------------------------------------------
Rémy tossed the item into one of the trash bags the moment it appeared, without even bothering to consider any potential advantage or practical use it might offer.
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—REWARDS 2/6 (RANK F)—
Type: Useless junk / Negligible radiation
Name: Nuka-Cola Bottle Cap
World of origin: Fallout series
Description: It's... just a bottle cap.
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—¡Stop torturing me!— Rémy shouted as he tossed the token at the system interface.
The metal token bounced off the holographic screen, emitting a pathetic *clink* before ricocheting back and striking Rémy squarely.
—¡Ouch! — he groaned, rubbing the sore spot while Erick burst into hearty laughter from a distance.
After receiving four consecutive F-rank rewards, his patience was wearing thin. The hope of getting something even remotely useful—especially after nearly dying—made him feel like the entire universe was laughing in his face.
----------------------------------------------------
—REWARDS 3/6 (F-RANK)—
Type: Soul Spa / Asset Storage
Name: "Awesome Mix Vol. 1" Cassette Tape
World of Origin: Marvel / Guardians of the Galaxy
Description: An Earth artifact that belonged to an infamous space outlaw. It contains the perfect soundtrack for saving the universe. Unfortunately, right now it is just a piece of vintage plastic with no combat value.
----------------------------------------------------
Rémy blinked in disbelief. He caught the plastic rectangle in mid-air as it materialized in front of his face. He turned it slowly between his bruised fingers, studying the handwritten white label.
«Actually, this is pretty good» Rémy thought.
The next notifications flickered onto the holographic screen, confirming his terrible luck with a couple of lackluster flashes.
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—REWARDS 4/6 (F-RANK)—
Type: Accessory / Souvenir
Name: Friendship Bracelet
World of Origin: Barbie & the Diamond Castle
Description: An unbreakable symbol of loyalty and musical power between kindred spirits. Unfortunately, the plastic grants no magic resistance and summons no hidden castles; it will only make you look fabulous while you run for your life.
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—REWARDS 5/6 (RANK F)—
Type: Apparel / Limited Inventory
Name: Threadbare Hiking Backpack
World of Origin: The Last of Us
Description: The trusty survival gear of an apocalypse-hardened smuggler. Perfect for carrying bricks, rusty scissors, and severe emotional trauma. Does not include firearms or immunity to fungal spores.
----------------------------------------------------
Rémy let out a long sigh, massaging the bridge of his nose in frustration. Aside from being visually quaint or limited to purely mundane use, all the supposed rewards he had obtained after risking his life were, by and large, an absolute disappointment. In a hostile world, those trophies were nothing more than a bad joke and a blatant waste of space.
He glanced at the final orb, having already resigned himself to the inexplicable streak of bad luck that always dogged his steps. If the third time hadn't been the charm, the sixth was nothing but a mockery of fate.
The air before them began to warp with a flash so blinding and solemn it resembled the birth of a new star. A beam of pure, celestial light pierced the room's dim gloom, accompanied by an angelic choir and golden particles drifting all around.
The orb exploded into a cloud of stardust, revealing an opening leading into the depths of Newt's briefcase. From that leather abyss tumbled a human figure, wreathed in flashes of divine light; he landed on his knees with a dramatic metallic clang and a pathetic shout.
The light slowly faded, revealing a boy with tousled brown hair, dressed in an odd school uniform and wearing a pair of music players hanging around his neck. He was trembling, his gaze lost in the void and his face bearing an expression of utter existential misery as he lifted it from the floor.
----------------------------------------------------
—REWARDS 6/6 (RANK E)—
Type: Dimensional Entity / Character
Name: Shinji Ikari
Stats: -LOCKED-
World of Origin: Neon Genesis Evangelion
Description: A teenager with daddy issues and an alarming medical history. He cannot pilot a giant robot in this universe (probably), but he has a natural talent for depressing anyone within a five-meter radius.
UPGRADES IN--
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Rémy didn't let the message finish appearing on the screen. His lips tightened into a tense, downturned line, while his brows furrowed slightly. He wasn't sad, nor was he angry; rather, he was deeply and personally disappointed with the universe.
—¡¿W-where am I?
Shinji asked, his voice trembling. His eyes darted frantically between the different biomes, inexplicably joined together without the ecosystems clashing negatively. His erratic gaze wandered across the strange landscape until it found the figure of Rémy, who remained hunched over.
Seeking an anchor amidst the madness, Shinji hurriedly approached him. «How did I get here?» That was the only thought weighing on him as he moved forward. He had gone from a state of high alert—shortly after arriving in Tokyo-3—to materializing, after a single awkward blink, in a place beneath a completely darkened sky.
Without warning. Without reason.
Upon reaching the boy—¿or was it a girl who looked a bit too masculine?— he bombarded the figure with a barrage of questions that never received an answer. Rémy, still wearing the same grimace, inspected him from head to toe, muttering words Shinji couldn't quite hear clearly but which, judging by the tone, were undoubtedly filled with sadness and utter displeasure.
—¡Answer me!
Shinji shouted, just as a "ridiculously picturesque" holographic screen appeared before both boys. Shinji abruptly stopped his chatter, blinking in confusion, and stepped back to a safe distance.
Rémy, lacking the energy even to look at him, fixed his gaze on the floating text with utter disinterest.
At first, his eyes scanned the opening line sluggishly, but his posture shifted almost immediately. He leaned forward, bringing his face closer to the light of the interface. His pupils widened and began darting rapidly from left to right. Then, they read faster. And faster still.
His eyes scanned the words, darting frantically from one end of the hologram to the other, while his previously apathetic expression shifted into sheer disbelief and the spark returned to his eyes.
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—STORE UPDATED— ORIGIN CATALOG: TOKYO-3 (EVANGELION)
(SUPPLIES AND ARTIFACTS)
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FILLER ITEM: "SHINJI'S SDAT PLAYER" (1 Credit)
Type: Tech Junk / Avoidance Mechanism.
Effect: Plays tracks 25 and 26 in an eternal, unchangeable loop.
Description: Perfect for ignoring your responsibilities, isolating yourself from the world, and avoiding eye contact with disappointing father figures.
Spare batteries not included.
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CONSUMABLE: "ORANGE-FLAVORED LCL RATION" (15 Credits)
Type: Life-Support Fluid / Questionable Beverage.
Effect: Allows the user to breathe underwater and instantly oxygenates the blood upon flooding the lungs.
Risk: Smells like old blood and tastes like expired orange juice. High probability of experiencing traumatic flashbacks and unwanted philosophical visions upon consumption.
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EQUIPMENT: "PROGRESSIVE POCKET KNIFE" (300 Credits)
Type: Close-Range Weapon (Rank D).
Effect: The blade vibrates at high frequency to cut through matter at the molecular level. Drastically increases slashing damage.
Note: A human-scale replica, not mecha-sized. Very useful for peeling apples, slicing metal, or stabbing miniature-sized Angels.
Useless against a real A.T. Field.
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ARTIFACT: "HEARTLESS COMMANDER'S GLASSES" (1,500 Credits)
Type: Psychological Intimidation Accessory.
Effect: Grants the passive ability "Disturbing Silence." If the user interlaces their fingers in front of their face in dim light, the lenses will emit a dull glow, reducing enemy morale to zero.
Description: They do nothing to improve vision, but they make you look like you have a master plan to use humanity as a tool.
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TACTICAL GEAR: "ONE-SIZE-FITS-ALL PLUGSUIT" (800 Credits)
Type: Synchronization Suit / Excessively Tight Clothing.
Effect: Vacuum-seals via a button on the wrist. Slightly increases agility, regulates body temperature, and facilitates life support.
Risk: It is absurdly tight. Highly embarrassing to wear in public if you have even a shred of modesty.
Imposes a 50% psychological vulnerability to being stared at.
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ELITE ITEM: "SPEAR OF LONGINUS" (999,999,999,999 Credits)
Type: Extraterrestrial Divine Suppression Weapon (LOCKED).
Effect: Pierces any physical or existential barrier in the universe. Instantly neutralizes entities with a god complex.
Status: Over budget. Furthermore, your arms are too short to lift a hundred-meter-long space fork.
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ASSOCIATED SUMMON: "EVA-00 UNIT (PROTOTYPE)" (Requirement not met)
Type: Biomechanical Test Prototype.
Effect: Acts as a tactical support and heavy defense unit, designed to withstand massive damage through the use of ballistic shields.
Description: Humanity's first successful attempt to create an artificial human from the Seed of Life, Adam. Its biological and spiritual instability makes it highly unpredictable, prone to interface rejection and episodes of uncontrollable rage. It is an incomplete giant—a tool born of trial and error that represents the dark, initial sacrifice on the path to survival.
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ATTACHED SUMMON: "EVA UNIT-01 (BERSERK MODE)" (Requirement not met)
Type: Giant Cyborg with Anger Management Issues.
Effect: Destroys everything within a 50-kilometer radius while howling like a flayed beast and devouring its enemies.
Note: Requires an umbilical cable connected to a national power grid and the soul of a maternal figure to function correctly. The system kindly suggests you settle for the SDAT player instead.
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ATTACHED SUMMON: "EVA UNIT-02 (PRODUCTION MODEL)" (Requirement not met)
Type: High-Performance Biomechanical Production Unit.
Effect: Maximizes agility and the advanced use of a vast tactical arsenal. Specialized in close-quarters combat and the rapid annihilation of multiple targets.
Description: The first Evangelion built explicitly without the design flaws of previous prototypes. Manufactured in Germany, it represents the pinnacle of NERV's military engineering. It requires an extremely high—and mentally draining—level of synchronization. The unit is a perfect war machine, reflecting both humanity's immense pride and its desperate clinging to survival through sheer violence.
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ATTACHED SUMMON: "EVA UNIT-03 (PRODUCTION MODEL)" (Requirement not met)
Type: Biomechanical Production Unit (Assimilation).
Effect: Standard deployment with enhanced physical capabilities and heavy armor. Highly susceptible to contamination of Angelic origin.
Description: Manufactured to cutting-edge specifications at NERV's North American branch. Despite its technical excellence, the unit's existence serves as a reminder of the fragility of human control over these biological entities. The line separating the defensive machine from the apocalyptic monster is a fine one, and the vulnerability of its interface makes it a perfect canvas for parasitic enemy invasion.
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ORGANIC ARTIFACT: "ANGEL CORE (S² ENGINE)" (50,000,000 Credits)
Type: Infinite Energy Battery / Biohazard.
Effect: Provides unlimited energy to any device. Theoretically capable of powering heavy machinery without the need for cables.
Risk: It is a red sphere the size of a garbage truck; it weighs several tons and pulses in a disturbing manner. If you attempt to plug a USB cable into it to charge your console, it is highly likely that you will trigger the Third Impact.
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MASS SUMMONING: "MASS-PRODUCTION EVA SERIES (UNITS 05 THROUGH 13)" (Requirement not met)
Type: Avian Nightmare / Smiling Monstrosities (LOCKED).
Effect: Nine autonomous units equipped with copies of the Spear of Longinus. They can fly like vultures, regenerate from extreme mutilation, and brutally tear apart their enemies while hunting in a pack.
Status: The System deems their eyeless faces and huge, smiling lips to be in violation of mental health policies. Furthermore, the cost of feeding them the flesh of other mechas exceeds your lifetime budget.
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Those items—and many more from the *Evangelion* universe—appeared before Rémy's eyes. The store's selection was vastly superior to anything Cartman had ever offered him. It included the everyday clothes worn by the characters, alongside an overwhelming array of other purchasable goods now within his reach.
—¡Sweet gifts from the heavens! — Rémy shouted.
Without warning, he rushed toward Shinji and dropped to his knees right in front of him with such exaggerated drama that the impact landed with a sharp thud and kicked up a small cloud of dust.
He pressed his palms together, fingers clenched tight, and threw his head back to offer a quick prayer of gratitude toward the darkened ceiling of the briefcase. But the solemnity lasted barely a second. The very next moment, he lunged at the bewildered teenager, gripped him firmly by the shoulders, and began shaking him back and forth.
—You, depressed little moron... ¿Do you have any idea how much I love you?
Without giving him even a fraction of a second to process the question, Rémy tackled him. It was a clumsy, unrefined takedown, driven entirely by unhinged euphoria. Shinji let out a stifled cry as the other's weight sent him crashing onto his back.
The impact kicked up a cloud of stardust and knocked the wind right out of him. Before the pilot could raise his hands in defense—or even stammer a plea for mercy—Rémy grabbed his face with both hands, squishing his cheeks slightly to hold him steady, and planted a resounding, loud, and desperately exaggerated kiss directly on his lips.
Shinji went completely rigid. His arms froze at his sides; he was as tense as a wooden plank, his eyes wide open and his pupils trembling. His brain, already fragile in the face of crises, simply stopped functioning, collapsing completely before the absolute and incomprehensible absurdity of his new reality.
—Yeah, welcome to hell — said Cartman. —You're lucky he wasn't naked.
--------------------------------------------------------
Shinji's heart was still pounding erratically. Hours after the traumatic incident, he sat dejectedly before an improvised presentation.
Absolute chaos unfolded before his eyes: disorganized diagrams, a cold summary of the System's rules, and the overwhelming details of his new, incomprehensible reality as a mere "summoned character." He stared blankly into space, hugging his knees to his chest as he tried to process the fact that the universe had somehow found a completely new and absurd way to torture him.
Rémy was bursting with energy and cheer, gesturing enthusiastically as he explained his limited knowledge regarding curses and the deadly world they now inhabited. He placed special emphasis on their grand new joint mission: surviving at all costs and eradicating those wretched specters that so loved slitting people's throats.
—If you ask me — Rémy said —honestly, this beats being constantly hounded by biblical giants. Extinction isn't a sure thing here... or so I'd like to believe —he murmured.
Shinji stood up abruptly, knocking over the chair he had been sitting on. The sound of metal hitting the floor was loud enough to startle Rémy and halt the flipping of the diagram pages.
—You kidnapped me...— Shinji said. —You... you fucking son of a bitch."
Faced with the sudden insult, Rémy could do nothing but swallow the words he had been about to utter. He couldn't argue; there was no reason to.
—W-well, the way I see it, I... — Rémy was lifted off the ground as Shinji grabbed him by the collar. His naturally small body slammed hard against the wall, knocking down a clock and shattering a mirror.
—Okay, okay, okay. ¿Why don't we calm down a bit? This is really out of character for you. —Rémy said, waving his arms.
Shinji tightened his grip, hard enough to make Rémy struggle for breath.
—¡I'm not some fucking character! —Shinji threw him to the ground. —¿You think you have the right to take my life? ¿¡My life!? — he shouted, hurling insults indiscriminately. —¿That I'll just go along with all this and follow you, all because I popped out of a hole in the sky? ¡Send me back to my world right now!
—But I can't...
A blow, landing just to the left of Rémy's head, silenced him.
Shinji—failing miserably in his attempt to hold back the tears that were now streaming unchecked down his cheeks and splashing onto Rémy's face—strained with every fiber of his being to keep his gaze locked on the other boy's eyes.
—Please.
Silence. That was the best, and only, response he could think of. Rémy tried to undo Eric's summoning and send him back to his home world. Each of the two hundred and thirty thousand attempts ended in an equally absurd failure. On one occasion, the system itself punished him with a horrible cramp in both legs and a floating warning note demanding he immediately cease his pathetic plans to get rid of Eric and forgo any future reward.
Sensing, with a feeling that turned into certainty when he heard not the slightest complaint from Rémy, that it was time to go, Shinji walked away. He staggered toward the door, his steps heavy and erratic, until he vanished completely from the sight of the operator who had dragged him into this hell.
Sitting amidst broken glass, Rémy remained motionless, watching the door.
--------------------------------------------------------
The rain soaked Shinji.
¿How long had he been walking? He hadn't started counting the seconds that ticked by after leaving the house.
Surrounded by strangers rushing toward their homes or food stalls to take shelter from the downpour—which worsened by the second—he felt a profound disconnection from his own existence. A world apart: devoid of Angels, yet teeming with dangers far more common to the average citizen. Assuming none of it was a lie.
His life might not have been the most exciting— let alone the warmest one could wish for— but in the end, it was his. His acquaintances, his past, and his future. All of that, along with things he couldn't even begin to describe, had vanished like smoke slipping through his fingers.
Not even an echo remained. Only the heavy silence of a place that didn't belong to him, and to which he didn't belong either.
He checked his phone. The contact for Misato, the woman he was supposed to meet, remained on the screen, faintly illuminating his face beneath the curtain of rain, alongside the last message he had sent, which would never receive a reply. When he tried to call, the call went straight to voicemail. He tried several times. each attempt more futile than the last, until he reached a small hill on the outskirts of town, high enough to make out most of the houses, the school, and the other buildings that made up the community.
There were no voices, no distant footsteps, not even the bark of a dog. Just him, the heavy rain, and the indifferent vastness of a world that kept turning without him.
¿Would he stay here for the rest of his life? Without money, trusted acquaintances, or even the slightest preparation to survive on his own.
He sat right beneath the only nearby tree, one that made no effort to shield him from the biting wind and cold. He remained there for several minutes. Yet, the moment did not last forever: the raindrops striking his face—one after another, with the persistence of someone expecting no reply—finally ceased. It was not because the rain had stopped, nor because the wind had taken pity on him and shifted the direction of the drops.
A girl appeared before Shinji; she had black hair that brushed her shoulders and wore, absurdly familiar, clothes that clung to her body, soaked through, while she held a useless umbrella that offered no protection at all.
She herself, however, served as a shield. Shinji gave her only a single glance before lowering his head.
—I'm sorry, Shinji. I truly am.
Stunned and harboring a faint glimmer of hope, Shinji studied her face for any familiar feature. Perhaps she was an old acquaintance who had also been dragged into this hell.
She had short, straight black hair cut into a bob that framed her face, complete with thick, blunt bangs. Her skin was pale, almost translucent in the cold light of the overcast sky. Her dark, slightly elongated eyes, shadowed by deep circles, were fixed steadily upon him.
She looked familiar; he could have sworn he had seen that face before. ¿
But when had he met her?
—¿You're apologizing? —Shinji asked. —¿Why would you do that?
The girl raised an eyebrow, then immediately slapped her forehead with her palm.
—I forgot to mention I have a Chinese curse. It's... a funny story.
She told him everything. Or rather, she revealed what she had left out the first time they met. Shinji listened in silence, growing increasingly disturbed. Fury toward Rémy flared up in his chest again, hot and familiar, and for a moment, he thought only of getting up and walking away once more.
—What I said wasn't a lie, Shinji — Rémy interrupted. — I know how you feel.
Shinji stopped and spun around sharply, ready to lash out at such cynicism and dishonesty. But Rémy was faster.
—I know what it's like to open your eyes and realize that everything you were, everything you built, and everything you planned to create... no longer exists. I know what it's like to look people in the eye and find no one who truly recognizes you. — She fell silent for a moment, searching for the right tone. —So, yes. I know how you feel. And no, it's not cynicism. It's just that I went through that same dark pit before you did.
Shinji narrowed his eyes.
¿You? How could you...
His voice faltered instantly. Shinji felt that old lump forming in his throat. The one he had known since childhood. He remembered the smell of the laboratory, his father's back as he walked away, the broken promise that someone would be waiting for him at the end of the day.
He remembered the silence of empty apartments, the nights when the only sound was his own rapid breathing. And now, this stranger was telling him that he understood. Shinji lowered his gaze to the mud staining his shoes. He wondered, with a weary bitterness, how many more times he would have to hear someone say they "knew" how he felt, only to discover later that they actually had no idea.
—I'm probably the only person in this world who truly understands you — Rémy said calmly. —Because I've already died.
Shinji looked at Rémy with an expression that clearly said,
"¿What kind of bullshit are you spouting?"
Rémy sighed, rubbed the back of his neck, and sat down beneath the tree, unbothered by the rain. With a brief nod, he invited the other to do the same. Shinji hesitated for a moment, reluctant, but curiosity won out. He ended up sitting down beside him, albeit grudgingly.
—I have no idea what anime or fanfic culture is like in the Japan you come from — Rémy continued, gazing straight ahead —but I'm sure you know what an "isekai" is. With all the baggage that comes with it.
—...I know a thing or two about it —Shinji replied.
Rémy smiled faintly.
—Well, that pretty much sums up my situation — he nodded, displaying an energy that seemed almost out of place. —I used to be called Ryan. I don't remember my last name or even the faces of my old family!
He made a cheerful gesture with his hands, as if the gravity of his confession weighed nothing at all. That absurd lightness only made Shinji frown even more deeply.
—I won't go into the details of how I died or what my life was like before I got here — Rémy continued, his smile fading for a moment. —The first few years were the worst. Surrounded by strangers who would pick me up, trapped in a body that felt completely alien, one I never asked for, and every time I looked in the mirror, I saw only the face of a stranger.
Shinji listened with growing attention to every anecdote. From trivial things like the day he broke both arms trying to reach a ball stuck on the roof, to the countless nights when insomnia, heavy with a nameless nostalgia, left him staring up at the ceiling.
—¿And how did you get over it? — Shinji asked.
Rémy remained silent for a few seconds.
—I suppose I had an advantage. Fifteen years is long enough to learn to live with something, but that's not really what I'm trying to say. — He stood up and offered his hand to Shinji, who looked at it with a puzzled expression. —If someone like me could move on, then someone like you can too. I tore you away from your life; the least I can do is help you build a new one. I'm no hero, nor am I one of those mentors you see in stories. I've got a stupid system that summons trash like Cartman, and half a dozen problems I don't even fully understand myself.
The rain, which had seemed endless, began to let up until it almost vanished. The first rays of sunlight managed to break through the clouds.
—I'm not asking you to forgive me right now. I don't even know if I deserve it. I just don't want you to go through what I did in those early years. If you're going to hate me, go ahead. But at least let me try to keep you from rotting away alone in this place.
Shinji kept his gaze fixed on Rémy's open palm. For a few seconds, he seemed to be seriously considering it. In the end, however, he didn't take it. He stood up on his own, brushing the mud from his trousers.
—I don't have many options anyway
He said with a sigh. No sooner had he spoken than a heavy, dull thud cut through the air.
A massive anvil fell from the sky and slammed into the mud right on one of Rémy's feet, sending up a spray of wet earth. The metal vibrated with a low hum before coming to a complete standstill.
Shinji fell backward onto the ground in shock, while Rémy stood frozen, a pleasant smile still fixed on his face. Then, a second later, he opened his mouth.
In the distance, at Old Man Nagi's house, the last one before leaving the village, the relative calm was shattered by a harrowing scream that tore through the air, echoing in unison with the storm's final peal of thunder.
—They're coming...
Nagi whispered as he polished his shotgun.
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¡¿5 months?!
Damn, time flies when you're getting blown up at Cinépolis.