Spoilers for JARS Chapter 40 and beyond.

Continuity placement… I don't know, do you?

Haruto Ayanami would like to think that he died like a true isekai protagonist: face-first, mid-monologue, on a Tuesday.

He hadn't expected it to be that Tuesday, but the possibility had always lurked in the back of his mind, nestled somewhere between the calculus homework he hadn't finished and the online poll he he'd just answered about what overpowered skill he'd want in a new world. He'd chosen "Unlimited Inventory," because practicality was sexy, and Haruto, being the self-proclaimed isekai connoisseur (read: a very delusional guy) that he was, knew that you always ran out of bag space right when things got interesting.

They say your life flashes before your eyes when you die.

For Haruto, it was more like a playlist of videos he could find on the internet. A mashup of dramatic anime death scenes, those satisfying "level up" chimes from RPGs, and the bittersweet ending of a certain series. If anything, it was a decent montage up until the part where he got pancaked by a truck with a decal of a grinning angel giving a thumbs-up.

Classic.

He had maybe 1,3 seconds to process that he was actually dying. A split-second thought flared up—Is this it? Is this my ISEKAI moment?—before the asphalt met his face and everything went squish.

'Truck-kun, you magnificent bastard. I'm ready.'

Even as a teenager, living is already hard enough. That's why people turn into the idea of isekai as a romanticized escape from the hardships of life. That's why even though Haruto was dying, he didn't feel all too concerned about it. It is what it is, as people say.

Darkness then swallowed him whole.

…

…Except, not really.

Because darkness would have been too dignified. What Haruto got instead was a tacky-looking waiting room, the kind you'd find in a dentist's office trying too hard to seem friendly. The couch beneath him was lumpy. The plant in the corner looked fake. There was a water cooler bubbling ominously, despite the absence of cups or people.

Haruto blinked. Then he squinted at the sign on the wall:

PLEASE WAIT TO BE PROCESSED AND TAKE YOUR TIME TO CONTEMPLATE. YOUR NEXT LIFE MATTERS!

So… the deity who will reincarnate him has a preference for mundane offices? Weird. Anyway, so it begins, Haruto thought to himself with a smug little smile.

Despite being freshy smeared across the front of a delivery truck, he felt remarkably okay. His clothes were intact, his body appeared unharmed, and his nerves were surprisingly calm. This was it—the start of his second life. Like all the light novel protagonists before him, he had made it. He was finally here.

At that moment, Haruto noticed something he hadn't before.

Off to the side, past the flickering water cooler and the brochure rack labeled Afterlife Orientation Materials – Please Take One (or Don't, We're Not Your Mom), was a glass display case. Inside it sat a meticulously crafted model of a warship. Haruto tilted his head. It hadn't been there a second ago, had it?

Drawn by the miniature, he approached, squinting through the dust-smeared glass.

Ayanami, read the plaque in faded kanji. The eleventh ship of the old Imperial Japanese Navy's Fubuki-class destroyers.

"Oh, hey," Haruto exclaimed, crouching a bit for a better look. "That's my name."

Unfortunately, he wasn't a military otaku for him to enjoy this scale model. The closest he got to warfare was the occasional mecha anime binge and the one time he accidentally fell into a Wikipedia hole about tanks. People will usually get depressed whenever they talk about warfare back home, after all. But even he recognized the existence of the Fubuki-class destroyers from the informative paragraphs accompanied the miniature.

The Ayanami. Fast. Sleek. Blew up in the Solomons or something, right? There was a whole paragraph beside the model explaining her service history, complete with dates and a grainy black-and-white photo. Haruto read it all, nodding solemnly like a guy who had any clue what displacement meant. He was an avid reader, after all. You don't amass an encyclopedic knowledge of isekai tropes without being one.

After all, the only JMSDF escort ship he really remembered off the top of his head was the Yamato, and that was less because of naval fascination and more because she was a national icon, where being the epitome of fighting against all odds during the war decades ago, she was often visited by people wishing for luck against whatever test they're up to. Japan's (or South Japan, if you're a gaijin—even the Reds still call this archipelago just Japan) pride and joy until she was retired, cleaned up, and turned into a floating museum ship at Kure. He remembered visiting her once during a school trip and buying a chocolate bar shaped like a battleship. It tasted nice.

"Aight, cool," Haruto nodded to himself and straightened his back, returning to his fantasizing.

"I wonder what my cheat skill will be," he muttered under his breath, crossing his arms and grinning. "Maybe time manipulation. Or reality warping. Something tasteful."

"You're so adorable," said a voice.

It wasn't loud. But it was pointed. Haruto turned—and found himself face to face with someone who most certainly did not look like divinity.

The entity(?) standing in front of him looked like a man in his 20s wearing a white jacket not unlike the models he'd seen back home. His hair was short and spiked, silver in color (the only thing ethereal about him, honestly), and his smile carried the energy of an older brother who definitely stole your snacks but somehow convinced your mom it was your fault.

Except Haruto never remembered growing up with a mom, or dad, or a sibling. But anyway.

He looked somewhat normal. And yet… not.

"Am I speaking to Haruto Ayanami, age seventeen?"

"Y-yes?"

Consulting a clipboard he carried, the man continued speaking. "Favorite food: melon bread, cause of death: vehicular manslaughter. Congratulations. You're dead. Welcome to post-life processing. Or… well, what's left of it."

Haruto blinked. "Arent you supposed to be a god or something?"

"Nope." The man snapped the clipboard shut and offered a hand. "I'm Legiel Roguerider. White Rider of the Four Horsemen. Pestilence, if you want to get biblical about it. But honestly, I prefer just Legiel. Titles are for insecure blokes."

"…Huh, eh, what?"

"That's the spirit!" Legiel said, clapping him on the shoulder after the handshake. "C'mon, we've got a lot to audit and not a lot of time. Walk with me."

Dazed but curious, Haruto followed the Horseman through a hallway that hadn't been there moments ago. The walls shifted as they moved, where blank space warped into windows showing scenes from other worlds(?), like someone left reality on shuffle.

"Wait, audit?" Haruto asked, catching up to the taller man's stride. "I thought I was getting reincarnated."

"You were. But let's just say I intercepted the process." Legiel tossed him a wink over his shoulder. "Think of it as a quality control. You know, checking to see whether you were going to turn into another world-breaking power fantasy that warps an entire ecosystem with your presence."

"I… wasn't?" Haruto asked, a little hurt.

He had a hazy understanding of why most isekai stories were just power fantasies—wish-fulfillment slop where the main character effortlessly dominated a world that always seemed to be some generic medieval Europe knockoff. But Haruto wasn't some bully! He helped old ladies cross the street. Heck, he'd even dreamed of being a cop when—if he grew up to adulthood, despite his delusions and basically everything.

"You might've. Jury's out. You've got that perfect blend of overthinking brilliance and low-effort stupidity that makes you very dangerous in a magical setting," Legiel said. "But that's what makes you interesting."

Haruto frowned. "So you hijacked my reincarnation?"

"Hijacked is such a strong word. You're being liberated from divine mismanagement, please do not resist."

"And the god?"

"What god? The one who would've processed you was a sentient octopus. But I stepped in," Legiel smiled. "Don't worry about it."

Him being so casual about the implications did not help whatsoever.

The hallway opened into a domed chamber filled with floating screens, each displaying chaotic montages from different worlds—dragons, demon lords, overpowered teenagers striking smug poses, and gods popping up like underpaid game masters. In the center, standing like a statue of calm amidst the swirling madness, was a silver-haired boy in a maroon vest and neatly-pressed slacks. He looked like someone's honor student and a minor aristocrat had fused into one.

"Little Brother! This is our candidate. Haruto Ayanami. Haruto, this is Meteos Roguerider, my overly wise little brother."

The teenager called Meteos gave a polite nod. "Charmed. You have my condolences."

Haruto stared at the brothers. "Wait. Are you also a Horseman of the Apocalypse?"

"I am the only Horseman around here," Legiel corrected.

"White Rider, Pestilence. But instead of spreading actual diseases, he now spreads brainrot. But he also cleans up divine messes. Like a spiritual janitor with executive powers, but one who sabotages the entire building first to make himself look good," Meteos continued.

"What about you?"

"Meteos is… well, things happened and he stuck around. Now he's basically my right-hand kid."

"I'm not a kid," Meteos said calmly.

Haruto looked between them. "Okay. Okay. This is a lot. What exactly do you want from me?"

"We're auditing reincarnations," Legiel said, suddenly serious. "The system's broken. Gods handing out cheat skills like candy, mortals steamrolling entire worlds, civilizations collapsing under OP teenagers with trauma and delusions of grandeur?"

"So… you want to fix it?"

Legiel's gaze turned melancholic, as if he remembered something fond. "I want to understand it. Maybe fix it, if it's fixable. But first, we test the waters with you. You'll go into a world, but under my watch. We observe, we report, we intervene if needed."

"Intervention?"

"Yes, we're so going to slap down overpowered weirdos and keep the world from collapsing under the weight of its own nonsense!"

"Sounds… risky."

"It is. But it beats being sent to a farm village with farming magic and a harem of goblins."

"What the hell!? …Okay, yeah. That does sound worse."

A portal shimmered into being behind him.

"Our first stop—" Legiel said before Haruto blurted out.

"Wait, 'our'?"

"You have to regularly tend to your garden, don't you?"

"…I see…"

"As I was about to say before, the first test site would be a fun one, but not one you're familiar with."

Haruto visibly deflated. Well, his accumulated knowledge might or might not be useful at this point. It turned out that there's still a limit to what one could expect. Now more hesitant than before, he dared to ask Legiel.

"So… what do I do in there?"

"Be yourself," Legiel said, hands in pockets. "Make choices, but bonus if you can make the world a slightly less shitty place to live. You know what I'm talking about, right?"

After a moment of contemplation, Haruto nodded silently.

"Good, Meteos and I will be there too. Oh, and don't die. Again."

"…Then, can I have a cheat skill at least?"

"How about you have competence?"

Haruto pouted. "That's not funny."

"Oh, well!" Legiel waved him off. "Your worth will be determined by your deeds, so why don't we get started by stepping through the portal over there?"

And with that, the portal pulsed, and Haruto Ayanami, finding no other choice, stepped through after his two hosts—armed with nothing but potential, an existential audit form, and the creeping realization that dying was the easy part.

Do not be fooled. This is a concept chapter of a spinoff involving Legiel (Pestilence), the most evil character in JARS.