This Humble One, Reincarnation Flow Player

Chapter 1: I, a Reincarnation Stream Player

I, a Reincarnation Stream Player by Shara Twin Trees

Reborn, you discover:

The air is filled with the scent of youthful daily life, a blissful existence surrounded by beautiful girls is slowly unfolding, and you will use your foresight to game the life you lead.

Just then, someone sends you a game invitation:

[Welcome to the Reincarnation Game]

[You will witness the Bloodthirsty Red Moon, escape from a demonic hospital, experience the Six Paths of Reincarnation...]

[You will link with countless players across the heavens, you will see Frieren's elegant cat-walk, face Shiki Ryougi's Origin, and experience Aizen's terrifying conspiracy...]

Wait a minute.

Which one of us got the wrong script!?

Volume: Bloodthirsty Red Moon

Chapter 1: Welcome to the Reincarnation Game!

Whoosh, whoosh--

The white gauze curtains fluttered as a slightly briny sea breeze poured into the room, brushing over everything like an invisible hand.

A whiteboard covered in photos and crisscrossed with dense red lines stood beside a cluttered desk. On the desk, an ID card with a black cover flipped in the wind, revealing a photo stamped with a steel seal and the information below:

Izu University, Faculty of Medicine, first year, Yuki Sorajima.

Tap.

A palm pressed down on the flipping student ID. The boy, who had the same short black hair and crimson eyes as the photo, pulled open a drawer and tossed the ID inside. He rubbed his head, then picked up a pen and scribbled hastily on a scrap of white paper he had torn off:

"My eighteenth birthday has passed, and there have been no abnormalities. Could it be that I really hit the jackpot and arrived in the world of my dreams? Was that sentence I saw back then just a hallucination from when I first transmigrated?"

The pen tip paused. He turned his head to look at the wall mirror in his rented room, seeing the boy in the mirror with black hair and red eyes, his face well-defined and handsome by any measure.

Yet, there was little excitement in the boy's eyes, for he had been looking at this handsome face for nearly ten years; if there had been any excitement, it had long since faded.

Ten years ago, he had taken over this body, the sole survivor of a car accident. Handsome, with some savings, parents deceased—it was the standard protagonist template. Just as he was preparing to indulge in his new life after the initial shock, he had read a line in Yuki Sorajima's diary that broke him out in a cold sweat.

He remembered that sentence vividly to this day; it was written in Simplified Chinese, a line of blood-red characters:

[Survive!!]

"So, I spent a long time waiting for monster invasions, the apocalypse, spiritual energy recovery, system activation, or urban legends."

The boy rubbed his chin, his eyes shifting toward the whiteboard covered in photos. It was plastered with pictures of men and women, military bases, strange buildings, and various urban legends, with a giant red question mark in the center.

"I drew that question mark? Why don't I remember?" Sorajima clutched his head, thinking hard to no avail. He simply grabbed a metal bucket, ignited the scrap of paper he had just scribbled on, and tossed the photos and data from the whiteboard into the bucket to burn.

The faint flames flickered gently with the sea breeze from the window, illuminating Sorajima's profile. He stared blankly at the burning photos—a cold-faced girl with black hair, or perhaps a boy with dead-fish eyes—as his blank expression became increasingly vivid.

"No inexplicable gas explosions, no Avengers, no Men in Black organization. There are conflicts and wars in the world, but on the whole, it is very peaceful, much like the Earth of my past life. If I really had to say what's different--"

He glanced at the photos turning to ash, names flashing through his mind.

Grand Blue, Kaguya-sama: Love Is War, Hyouka, The Pet Girl of Sakurasou, and some people and events he hadn't yet identified. They all shared a common trait:

This was a normal world of youthful daily life. The school lives of boys and girls formed the main plot, and the greatest harm should be nothing more than a stomachache; at the very least, it shouldn't require force to resolve.

"And then I could never find that diary again. Could it be that I read too many web novels in my past life and developed a persecution complex?" Sorajima's mouth twitched slightly. That sentence had made him suspicious and paranoid for years, making his life quite difficult.

Waiting for the apocalypse was the most agonizing part. Gradually, he had begun to slack off, especially in the last two years, focusing more on reality.

"So I chose to hedge my bets: keep preparing on one hand, and choose this Izu University on the other."

At this thought, a smile appeared on Sorajima's face involuntarily.

The easygoing Azusa, the busty Nanaka—he could start a youthful romance journey at any time.

Experience the happiest school days, become a literary plagiarist after graduation to accumulate wealth, start a family with someone he loved, and have a few lifelong best friends.

Such a life was ordinary and happy. It lacked the grandeur of words like 'transmigration' or 'rebirth,' but what did that have to do with me?

To put it bluntly, I didn't ask to come here. Being cautious for all these years is already quite impressive. If it were an average transmigrator, would you believe they'd have the guts to sniff out Shuchiin at age eight to pick up girls and turn them all into childhood sweethearts?

The paper scraps burned out. Sorajima picked up the bucket, flushed the residue down the drain, and grabbed a brush to wipe the writing off the whiteboard. He paused for a split second when he passed the blood-red question mark, then wiped it away with a huff.

"What a waste of the suffering I've endured all these years. But looking on the bright side, the things I've learned can protect my home, and at the very least, a sea king needs a fit body, right?"

He tossed the brush aside and rolled his shoulders, his mind already planning his new life. He cast his gaze toward the coffee table in front of the single sofa.

It was an idol magazine. On the cover was a beautiful girl with waist-length black hair and light purple eyes. She had a pink rabbit hairpin in her hair and a near-perfect smile on her face.

Mai Sakurajima, a young idol sweeping across Japan. Aside from the fact that she was another 'acquaintance,' Sorajima cared about something else:

Based on the known intelligence, this should be the only work containing supernatural elements, yet Yuki had laid low for all these years and had never discovered any anomalies during his previous trips to Kanagawa.

"The time is about right. If there's no problem this time, I won't have to worry about it anymore. I'll just join the Diving Club and spend my days getting drunk on Oolong tea."

At this thought, Sorajima felt his heartbeat quicken, as if emotions suppressed for too long were about to break through the shackles of reason, finally allowing him to enjoy life without restraint.

He hurriedly put on his jacket and went to the entryway to change his shoes. He hesitated for a moment before opening the door, turned back, and pulled several gleaming scalpels from the lining of the shoe cabinet. The mirror-like blades reflected the smile on his face, and a flurry of memories flashed by.

Kendo dojo, octagon cage, gym, racetrack, anatomy lab...

"I didn't expect I was such a coward. To prepare for a crisis that might come, I shed so much blood and sweat, and the harvest is just a well-developed body?"

Sorajima sighed, feeling he really did have a persecution complex. He didn't think back then that if he had an accident while doing those dangerous activities, he would have died even faster.

"Forget it, it's all in the past. It's not bad to use it as a bragging point."

The blades slid into his pockets, and his battle intent, as if always ready, returned to its sheath. With a 'click,' Sorajima turned the handle and stepped out. The smile on his face froze instantly, and his red pupils contracted slightly.

There was no warm afternoon sun, no balmy sea breeze, and even the sensation under his feet was soft. Before him was a corridor—a corridor that absolutely should not exist in an apartment building with a monthly rent of twenty thousand yen.

The dim corridor, devoid of any sunlight, was covered in thick gray carpet. The pale green walls exuded an ancient aura. Sorajima felt his excited heart stop for an instant, and even his cervical spine became as stiff as rotting wood, only turning inch by inch after several long seconds.

He still didn't see the familiar stairs or the noisy brats from the neighborhood. Only the black wall lamps emitted a faint glow. The monotonous, archaic corridor was deep and seemed to have no end.

Am I still dreaming?

Sorajima's first thought was that he was still in a dream, then he turned around as fast as if someone had stabbed him in the rear with a knife. His palm quickly felt something cold—the shape of a handle.

Ah, this...

He didn't turn it. His pupils, which had been contracting, blinked several times. Because what was reflected in his eyes was not the sixty-centimeter-wide apartment door covered in flyers, but an oak door taller than a person and several meters wide.

There were no extra patterns on this wooden door, yet like the walls and the carpet, it gave off the feeling of an antique. The scent of aged wood drilled into his nostrils.

Sorajima's palm rested on the door handle, not turning it an inch. Then, amidst his shock and uncertainty, he heard a strange sound.

The voice had no discernible gender and no traceable source. It sounded more like countless men, women, old, and young speaking at once—laughing, crying, growling, or sighing. The sound was chaotic, yet every word was incredibly clear.

[Welcome to the 'Reincarnation Game']

[As a lucky one who has stood out from the masses, you will experience the transcendental and become the transcendental]

[Now, please open the door.]

It said so.

Chapter 2: Miss, your head is blooming

Gulp.

Sorajima swallowed subconsciously, his head buzzing, his expression changing constantly within a second.

Confusion, bewilderment, anger...

With that noisy countdown, it felt as if someone had squeezed his heart hard. After blood pumped into his brain, his thoughts became both chaotic and clear.

Why now of all times? Was there really a problem with Mai Sakurajima? Could even imagining her cause unpredictable consequences?

Sorajima, who had basically determined that the world was safe and was prepared to start a brand-new life, felt like he had been struck by a heavy blow. He felt anger instinctively, but a second later, his reason returned.

"What I saw back then wasn't a hallucination?!"

Who wrote it?

Why remind me?

Why now?

Sorajima's confusion was different from that of an ordinary person. It wasn't the philosophical three questions of 'who am I, where am I,' but a sense of trembling shrouded in shadow.

His brain felt as if it had been soaked in the water of life, leaving no memory behind. Sorajima had to force himself to forget this question, and then...

A sense of relief actually emerged.

Regardless of the reason, hadn't he been preparing for this moment for years?

The endurance, the training, the constant searching for memories of his past life—he had missed out on so many childhood sweethearts for this day. If it had all been a fantasy, wouldn't that have been an even greater loss?

"How strange. I don't even know if I've lost or gained."

His heartbeat gradually stabilized, proving at least that he didn't have a 'persecution complex.' Just like a top student who constantly practices mock exams, whether or not he could write the answer was secondary; at the very least, he was mentally prepared when the real exam came.

[Please open the door, rendezvous with your teammates, and complete the novice tutorial]

[Afterward, the player will unlock their personal panel]

[Countdown starting: ten, nine, eight...]

The strange voice sounded again. The problems he had 'drilled' in the past flooded his mind uncontrollably. His previously stiff brain began to run at high speed.

"Reincarnation Game? Player? Is this a dungeon transmigration similar to the Infinite Flow rules? But why is there no mission prompt?"

"Open the door and rendezvous with teammates? Is this a newcomer test? Will the real game only appear after passing this stage? What happens if I don't open it?"

By the time the countdown reached '4,' many questions had already surfaced in Sorajima's mind, but none of them could be answered because the voice had vanished, showing no intention of responding.

He glanced at the endless, bizarre corridor and turned the handle without hesitation, pushing inward.

General Principle One: In a game, it's best to obey the system.

Creak--

The wooden door let out a harsh sound. Sorajima walked straight in, the light from the wall lamps making him squint slightly.

Before him was another corridor—gray carpet, cyan walls, much like the one before. The difference was that he could see other things in this corridor.

There were no windows. Six wooden doors were arranged in sequence along the corridor, and in the middle section, a wooden staircase led to the floors above and below. Turning back, the door he had entered through was open, and he could see the monotonous corridor he had just come from inside the doorway.

A villa? A castle?

The corner of Sorajima's eye twitched slightly. He felt a sense of relief once the countdown stopped.

He was certain he had made the right choice, yet the scene before him left his expression complicated.

"This isn't quite what I imagined."

Beyond the apocalypse or supernatural invasions, Yuki had spent years simulating scenarios where he might be thrown into some sort of game. Recalling the bizarre encounter from the last minute, he felt his previous fantasies had been somewhat off the mark.

"There's no blueprint, or at least it isn't something like Infinite Terror. Could it be a rule-based horror? There's no way to prepare for that."

His head was still buzzing. Yuki instinctively lifted his leg, and only when he felt the soft texture of the carpet beneath his foot did he snap back to reality, his gaze turning resolute.

Once this step was taken, there was no turning back. Regardless of the game type or whether his years of preparation had gone to waste, his goal remained exactly as it had been when he first transmigrated—

I want to survive!

The hallway showed no signs of supernatural phenomena; at least in terms of physical laws, it was identical to reality. Fully in the zone, Yuki stepped onto the soft carpet and soon reached the staircase in the center.

"So, upstairs or downstairs? There are at least five corners, and it's over five stories high. This must be a castle or some kind of large building."

Having made his judgment, he glanced at the gloomy floor below, then suddenly looked up, catching a glimpse of crimson light.

Amidst the dim wall lamps, that faint crimson was exceptionally striking. Yuki's tense face finally relaxed a little. Beyond the light, that strange voice rang out again.

[Player, you have fifteen minutes remaining.]

"Phew, and here I thought I'd have to search slowly. So there are hints after all. But fifteen minutes? Does it really take that long to go upstairs?"

He lifted his foot, but suddenly paused as he stepped onto the wooden stairs.

Thud.

His leather shoe made a dull sound against the wood, but when it reached his ears, it echoed as a double "thud-thud," sounding remarkably distinct in the deathly silent hallway.