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The screech of tires. A flash of chrome. The gut-wrenching thud that follows only one legendary event: Truck-kun had claimed another soul. One moment, a crosswalk. The next—isekai. There was no dramatic goodbye, no emotional flashback. Just the abrupt realization that the afterlife, if it existed, had a twisted sense of humor. Darkness fell. Then, cold stone. The body lay sprawled across damp flagstones, surrounded by the crumbling bones of ancient giants. Faint ghost-lights flickered overhead, casting eerie reflections across sunken mausoleum walls. The air reeked of decay, mold, and something older—something hungry. A low groan echoed in the shadows. A skeletal figure emerged, dragging a rusted sword behind it, half-held together by brittle sinew and blind intent. It moved with jerking purpose, closing in fast. Then—nothing. Not death. But not awareness either. Light returned, soft and golden. The scent of flowers, parchment, and a touch of distant forge-smoke floated on the breeze. The ground beneath was cobbled and humming faintly with dormant magic. Twilight stretched across the sky in purples and golds, painting the towering city in soft, eternal glow. Sprawling plazas buzzed with adventurers—traders haggling over runes, knights comparing blades, mages arguing over scrolls. Towering dungeon gates stood seamlessly beside bakeries and blacksmiths, pulsing with the quiet promise of danger. There was no sign of the crypt, nor the creature. No memory of what happened between then and now. Only the aching sense of near-death and the city that now breathed around you.