CHAPTER ONE
Death, and Waifu
Los Angeles, California. A summer sun blazed down over the city, baking the concrete and intensifying the smell of fried food trucks and fresh acrylic paint. Outside the Los Angeles Convention Center, Anime Expo was chaos in technicolor.
It was heaven.
Towering over the crowd like a misplaced boss character, Samuel Schmidt, 6-foot-5, ex-SAS sniper, world's most lethal assassin, stood wide-eyed in front of a display of limited-edition Yuzuki figures.
He wasn't here to kill anyone.
Well, not yet.
"Festival Yukata Version… with real fabric layering..." he whispered, holding the box like it was a sacred relic. "You are my light in the darkness."
A passing cosplayer waved at him, mistaking him for a security guard.
Sam ignored them. His focus was on one thing: Yuzuki, his fictional wife, crimson-haired shrine maiden from the anime Celestial Blade: Kagura's War. He had every season memorized, every figure shelved, and her character theme set as his alarm.
He wore a "2D > 3D" shirt unironically.
It was the happiest he'd been in years.
Until his burner phone buzzed in his pocket.
[Encrypted: Mission Reconfirmed. Target Present. Warehouse District. ETA: 45 min.]
Sam sighed. "Can't I have one damn day with my waifu?"
He turned—just in time to lock eyes with a cosplayer.
Yuzuki.
Or rather, someone cosplaying her. But the resemblance was perfect—same height, same eyes, same faint scar under her lip from Episode 12.
His breath caught.
Then instinct kicked in.
A black SUV turned the corner. Tinted windows. The kind smugglers and mercs preferred. Sam's eyes narrowed.
The mission wasn't waiting.
Forty minutes later, Sam was perched atop a loading crane near the docks, rifle in hand, shadow melting into the rusted steel. His target—Hector Mendez, weapons trafficker, international poison merchant, cartel prince. He was laughing with his men near the warehouse entrance.
Sam lined up the shot. Breathing slowed. One twitch of the finger—
"Sam," said a voice in his earpiece. "Change of plans."
He blinked. "Alex?"
The scope moved—just slightly. Mendez turned his back.
"Pull out. HQ wants him alive."
"Bullshit. They've wanted him dead for two years."
Silence.
Then—
"I'm sorry."
The shot came from behind.
The bullet punched through Sam's shoulder and tore his body sideways. Pain seared across his chest.
He dropped the rifle, ducked, and rolled.
He didn't need to look. He knew.
Alex. His partner. His friend.
Sam sprinted across the rooftop, blood trailing behind. Heart pounding. Confusion and betrayal tangled in his mind like barbed wire.
He vaulted down into the alley. Sirens began to wail in the distance.
He ran toward the backlot of the Convention Center—toward the noise, the crowd. People wouldn't shoot in public.
Wrong again.
Another shot hit his thigh. He collapsed behind a dumpster, dragging himself into the shadows.
Everything hurt.
His phone buzzed one last time.
[We warned you not to care.]
The world spun. His vision blurred.
And then—
she appeared.
The Yuzuki cosplayer. She ran toward him from the crowd, panic in her eyes.
Her lips moved. He couldn't hear.
But she was beautiful.
Like a goodbye.
He smiled through blood. "Yuzuki… even now... you came for me."
Then—
Darkness.
The Void Between Worlds
He awoke in a place without time. A glowing plane. Stars in every direction. No ceiling. No floor.
A presence emerged from the white.
"I am the Unknown God," it said.
"You don't look like a waifu," Sam muttered.
"You were betrayed," the voice said. "Cut down by those you trusted. But your soul… refuses to die."
"I want vengeance."
"I offer peace," the god countered. "Rebirth in another world. Magic. Power. Freedom. But only if you let go."
"No." Sam's voice was flat. "Let me remember. Let me burn them all."
The god paused. "Hmph! Stubborn one! Very well. Rebirth—with memory. But your new life will not be what you expect. You will be sent to Ertha. A world ruled by mana, divided by war. Defeat the Demon Lord Makaius, and I will give you your vengeance, remember that no one should know that you are a reincarnated being."
"I don't want peace," Sam growled. "I want purpose."
The god nodded.
But just before the ritual could begin, the space shattered.
A rip in the sky.
A woman descended—dressed in a purple flowery kimono, eyes like fire.
She looked exactly like—
Yuzuki.
"I demand a different life! A different body!" she shouted.
"You're not permitted here!" the god roared.
She dove toward the soul gate, arms reaching.
A burst of light.
A scream.
Something twisted.
And everything went black.
Sam awoke choking—gasping, sweat clinging to soft skin.
He was… warm. Smaller.
"Is she awake?" someone whispered.
Sam opened his eyes and nearly screamed.
Long red hair tickled his cheek. A silken kimono clung to his chest. A very voluptuous chest.
"What the fu—"
The door slammed open.
"Princess Samara lives!" a maid cried.
Samara?
The name echoed in his mind—and then the memories hit. Pain. Shame. Loneliness. Her soul had died here. But the body had lived. Now it was his.
And hers.
Merged.
He was Sam. But also... her.
Word spread quickly. The forgotten princess—Samara Kintaro—had survived her suicide attempt. Rumors of resurrection, curses, and divine punishment swept the castle.
Days later, they dragged her—barely recovered—into the Great Hall.
To test her mana.
To measure her worth.
The High Mage began the rite. "Place your hand on the stone."
Samara obeyed.
The crystal ignited. Flames erupted from its core. Lightning flickered. Water surged. Wind howled.
Gasps erupted.
"Such power..."
"She's... divine-tier?!"
The king leaned forward, eyes wide.
Maybe… finally, his daughter was worth something.
The final scroll floated into view.
Job Class: BLACKSMITH
Laughter followed.
The king's face darkened. "A blacksmith?! All that power, wasted on hammers and scrap?!"
"You will still marry Skaal of Valheim," he growled. "Even cursed goods can be traded."
Sam bit her lip in frustration of what he heard from the Emperor.
That night, Sam stood before the mirror.
Her robe slipped down.
And there—tattoos.
Fire coiled down her right arm like a dancing dragon. Water rippled across her left. On her chest, a sun and moon burned in ink. Her back, she knew, was wrapped in forests and wind.
"Cursed," they whispered. "That's what she gets for trying to cheat death."
"Her body's still beautiful," another said. "If not for her filth, she'd be a perfect wife."
Sam smiled coldly at her reflection.
"Call it a curse if you want."
She tightened the sash around her waist.
"But from now on, this curse is mine."
Her eyes gleamed.
"I'll live for her. And I'll make you all regret ever calling her worthless."
To Be Continued...