"So… I'm dead, right?"
That was the first thing Kaito muttered, staring blankly at a floating tea table spinning in slow circles above a floor that didn't exist, his voice dry and cautious, like someone afraid the answer might be worse than the question, and sitting across from him, in a chair made of clock gears and gold trim, was a white-robed man with a beard so dramatic it looked like it had been grown specifically to win contests at fantasy conventions, and this old man nodded slowly while sipping tea from a floating porcelain cup.
"Very dead," the man said, tapping the side of his cup, "though your body held up surprisingly well considering the caliber of bullet that went through your skull."
Kaito closed his eyes for a second, exhaled, then opened them again without lifting his head, as if hoping the scenery might change if he blinked long enough, but the bizarre room filled with ticking sounds and glowing runes stayed exactly the same, and the god—or whatever he was—still had that smug, serene smile that made Kaito want to flip the table, assuming it wasn't floating due to divine physics.
"Okay," Kaito said, voice low and calm, "if this is some joke, I've heard worse. If it's real… then where's the line for reincarnation? I've got some questions before you send me off as a slime or a goat."
"Ah," the god chuckled, swirling his tea like a wine snob, "no goat transformation for you, Mister Kaito Sumeragi. You've been selected for a rather… special placement. A different world, one of swords and sorcery, full of greed, blood, and old systems begging to be torn down."
Kaito sat up straight now, arms resting on his knees, eyes narrowed, and though his tone stayed polite, there was a tired sharpness to it, the edge of a man used to dealing with double-crossers and half-truths.
"Why me?" he asked plainly, "You expect me to play hero?"
The god smiled wider, leaned forward, and snapped his fingers.
A floating screen appeared in the air between them, displaying text in glowing letters, and Kaito's eyes scanned it quickly, reading in silence as the god recited it with theatrical flair.
Name: Kaito Sumeragi
Race: Human (Reincarnated)
Title: The Triggered Outlander
Class: Gun Saint
Weapon: ZeroSystem Mk-IX – Legendary Gun
Abilities:
[Bullet Time] – Active Skill
[Gun Kata] – Passive Style
[Craft Ammo] – Utility Skill
- Inferno Round
- Frostbite Round
- Shockburst Round
- Hollow Curse Round
- Echo Round
[Recoil Drive] – Passive Enhancement
[Snark Lv.MAX] – Passive Curse
[Trigger of Fate] – Hidden Skill
[Gun Saint's Aura] – Class Signature
"…Gun Saint?" Kaito said slowly, not impressed.
"You'll be the only one with a firearm," the god replied, "and an evolving one at that. A living gun. It reacts to your intent, grows stronger with your tactics, and yes, the ammo crafting lets you experiment. No need to explain gunpowder to peasants."
Kaito raised an eyebrow, leaned back again, and crossed his arms, his mind already processing the implications—not as a soldier, but as a planner, someone who'd done infiltration, clean kills, and logistics more than brute combat, and the thought of introducing advanced tactics into a medieval setting made something cold and calculating settle into his chest, not with excitement, but focus.
"So I'm not supposed to save the world," he said, more to confirm than ask.
The god grinned.
"You may destabilize it, if you like," he said cheerfully, "but no, no chosen one destiny. Just… live, build, shoot whoever deserves it, and make a name if you're inclined. Though, for the record, you'll be dumped in the slums of a collapsing kingdom. Good place to vanish. Or rise."
Kaito sighed and stood up, looking at his hands as a sleek black gun materialized in his grip, polished and humming faintly like it had its own pulse.
"One last thing," he said without looking up, "I get to choose what kind of man I become over there, right?"
"Naturally," the god said, floating higher, his beard glowing like a divine curtain, "but be warned: the shadows have deeper rules than the light."
"Good," Kaito said quietly, turning the gun over in his hands, "I never liked being seen anyway."
And just like that, the ground vanished beneath him, space cracked open, and the divine void hurled him downward into a world waiting to be corrupted, rebuilt, or maybe both.
Somewhere in the slums of Arvellas…
"Oi, get that girl! She's seen too much!"
"Kill her before she runs—!"
Gunfire exploded from an alley, a single shot piercing the night air, and the thud of a body hitting cobblestone silenced the pursuit.
A cloaked figure emerged from the shadows, revolver raised, eyes hidden beneath a hood, and the girl on the ground stared in shock at her savior.
"Who… who are you…?"
The man tilted his head, voice low and unreadable beneath the cloth mask.
"Just a traveler looking for a quiet place to set up shop."