NOVEL ONLINE FREE Chapter 1: What the Heck
This life is so boring—nothing worth a second glance. That's my mantra, and no one's changing it. Why? Easy—here's the rundown:
Sleep, wake up, work, eat, then tomorrow, same old garbage. Repeat ad nauseam.
People obsess over stacking cash, grinding for Master's degrees and PhDs like it'll earn them a gold star from the universe. Newsflash: nobody cares! You could pour 30 years into a company, and they'll still ditch you like yesterday's trash—just a "name" on some HR list.
Yeah, I sound like a grumpy cat meme, but that's the grim truth we're all wading through. So, I flipped the script—ditched the rat race and went full NEET (Not in Education, Employment, or Training) with a side of otaku spice. That's my paradise. All I need is a part-time night shift at a convenience store to pay the bills, and then it's me, my manga, anime, and light novels living the dream. It's plenty for a guy like me.
What's your take? Best life ever, right? Who needs a soul-sucking desk job when That Time I Got Reincarnated as a Slime is calling my name? So, yeah, time to clock in and fund this nerd utopia. Hehe! Just thinking about chilling post-shift with Rimuru owning demon lords has me buzzing. Can't wait to crack that next chapter—and then—
BAM!!
Wait, what? Why am I eating pavement? Why's everyone gawking like I'm a dead man walking? Hold up—don't tell me…
Shit!!! TRUCK-KUN strikes again! The holy grail of otaku deities! Am I about to get transmigrated?! HELL YEAH, let's roll! Beam me to a world with shadow summons, Sun Breathing, or an elf princess BFF! I'm ready to be overpowered, Truck-kun—don't flake on me now!
Reality warps like a glitchy anime stream, and suddenly I'm not roadkill anymore. My eyes are fuzzy, my body's shrunk—like I've been stuffed into a kid-sized onesie—and someone's grabbing me. Firm grip, total panic mode. It's a woman, sprinting like she's late for the last train. Then—ZAP!—a green flash streaks by, so close I smell singed hair. RIP my eyebrows.
"Alibaba!" she shouts. No, wait—"Abrada!" Another green bolt, and my brain clicks: "AVADA KEDAVRA!" Oh, hell no. I've been isekai'd into Harry freaking Potter! Not Overlord with skeleton armies, not Konosuba with goofy goddesses—not even Doraemon with its chill gadget vibes. Nope, I'm in wizard murder central, where everyone's slinging death curses like it's a sport!
She's a witch—wild auburn hair, ripped cloak—hauling me like I'm a clearance-sale potato sack. Green lasers zip everywhere, and I'm just flopping along, grumbling to myself, "Why Harry Potter, of all places? I'd take Doraemon's pocket over this death trap any day!"
I crane my neck, scoping the chaos. Robed figures chase us, wands blazing like it's a magical police sting. "Stupefy!" "Incarcerous!" "AVADA KEDAVRA!"—that last one's way too common for comfort. My body's tiny, like I'm stuck in baby mode. I try yelling, "Hey, lady, drop me already!" but it's just a weak "Goo goo!" Perfect—I'm a helpless infant in a wizard shootout. Living the dream.
She ducks a red blast that turns a bush into confetti, muttering, "Bloody hell, quit wiggling, you little monster!" Her voice is sharp, frayed—like she's one spell from snapping. "Merlin's beard, why am I stuck babysitting in a warzone?"
"Warzone?!" I gurgle, flailing pudgy fists in my head. "I wanted an OP skill, not 'Baby vs. the Wand Cops'!" It's all "Gah!" to her, but I'm raging internally. "Truck-kun, you troll! Re:Zero has retries—heck, Peppa Pig has zero body counts! Why this?!"
A spell slams the ground, kicking up dirt. I spot our hunters—stern wizards in official robes, yelling like they're in Law & Order: Magical Edition. "Marigold Vex, surrender the child!" one barks, wand glowing like a bad omen.
Marigold Vex? That's her name? She dives behind a rock, clutching me tighter. "Shove it, Kingsley, you overstuffed owl!" she yells back, catching her breath. "You lot couldn't catch a flobberworm!"
I thrash, thinking, "Lady, can we skip the dying part? I just wanted slime adventures!" It's a pitiful "Wah!" but she adjusts me, grumbling to herself, "Oh, you're a handful, aren't you? Typical—always trouble."
Aurors close in, spells lighting up the dark like a cheap rave. "Stupefy!" one shouts, and Marigold dodges, cursing under her breath. "These gnats just won't quit! What's next, a dragon?"
"Don't jinx it!" I squeak in my mind, picturing myself as dragon chow. She's gotta be a fugitive—did she rob a vault? Hex a politician? Whatever it is, I'm her tiny partner in crime now.
A tall, bald guy steps up, Auror vibes dialed to eleven. "Marigold Vex, last chance! Hand over the kid, or it's lethal force!"
"Lethal force?!" I gurgle internally, outraged. "I'm a baby, you lunatic! My worst attack's a spit bubble!" Marigold snickers despite the chaos, throwing up a Protego as a spell zips past.
"Nice try, Shacklebolt!" she hollers, grinning wickedly. "Eat this!" She yanks off her hat, mutters something, and—POOF!—a swarm of enchanted paper bats erupts, swarming the Aurors. They flail, yelling, and I hiccup-laugh like a gremlin.
"Nice one!" I think, wishing I could cheer. She smirks, scooping me up and bolting into the woods, muttering, "Slytherin ingenuity, that's what that is. Let's ditch these clowns."
We zigzag through trees, spells popping off behind us. I'm bouncing like a ragdoll, half-thrilled, half-freaked. "Truck-kun, you sly dog," I mutter in my head. "You stuck me in a wizard heist flick! Where's my slime saga?!" Still, this is kinda dope—an isekai with grit.
Marigold stops by a stream, panting. "Right, time to bail," she says, mostly to herself, pulling out a gnarled wand. "Portus!" A blue portal flares up. "Hold tight, you little terror—this might jostle you!"
"Jostle?!" I think, panicking. "I'm already a fugitive tot—what's next, a troll nanny?!" She leaps through, and the world twists, colors smear. I'm pretty sure I barf (milk? Gross).
We crashed onto cobblestones in a grimy alley. Marigold groans, brushing dirt off her cloak. "Knockturn Alley, our little hideout," she mutters, checking me over. "Those Auror stiffs won't find us here."
I drool a grin, thinking, "Wizard outlaws? Sweet—am I Zephyr the Toddler Terror yet?" She tousles my hair, smirking faintly. "You're lucky you're cute, troublemaker."
Then she crouches, locking eyes with me, her tone shifting. "Oh, by the way your name, It's Zephyr Riddle, you are son of me and Tom Riddle, the slickest and strongest Dark Lord to ever terrorize an England."
My baby brain stalls. Tom Riddle? Voldemort? My dad?! Truck-kun didn't just troll me—it threw me into the deep end with a Sith Lord for a parent! I flop back, gurgling, but in my head, it's a full-on scream:
"WHAT THE HECK!!"