Inside the [Omni Force]'s Space
The air was thick—choked with the scent of rusted iron and dried blood.
Zoth stood in the middle of a dead hill, gripping Caladbolg tightly, his hands trembling. Beads of sweat dotted his brow, but his eyes stayed locked on the man standing at the hill's peak—a perfect yet distorted version of himself.
"You said… you're me?"
"Then answer this—what do I love the most?"
Zoth frowned, as if trying to confirm this was nothing but a cheap illusion, or at the very least… not truly him.
The other "Zoth" chuckled, covering his mouth with a gloved hand like some mocking aristocrat. His tone was both lazy and derisive.
"Ahem~ Easy. Rias Gremory from High School DxD."
"You even kept the 1/6 scale figure pristine, brought it into the shower so it wouldn't get dusty—"
"Stop!" Zoth's face flushed red.
"I get it! No need to repeat… those shameful historical records out loud!"
He gritted his teeth, glaring at the other version with clear irritation—but deep inside, he was rattled to the core. He pressed on:
"If you're me… then how did I die?"
The other raised an eyebrow, replying coolly:
"A streetlight."
"You were walking at night, blasting anime OSTs, got too emotional and teary-eyed to pay attention to your surroundings… You dodged Truck-kun, but the universe still gifted you a streetlight to the skull. Tragic, really."
Zoth: "…"
Silence. A moment of mourning… for himself.
"Then… if you're me, why are you standing here? Why are you separate from me? What's happening?"
The "Zoth" atop the hill sighed. His gaze turned cold—no longer joking, but the gaze of someone who had lived far, far longer.
"Because… I'm dead."
The words hit like a punch to Zoth's chest. His eyes widened.
"You… died?"
"That can't be… With the power of [Omni Force], you should be able to control—or destroy—everything. Even fate itself."
The other Zoth scoffed, twirling the Caladbolg in his hand. Crimson flames flickered around the blade like a bloodstained twilight.
"Heh… Sure, it's powerful. But just like any good story in Fate—the greater the power, the deeper the tragedy."
"You don't believe me? Then…"
"See it for yourself."
He reached out his hand.
Zoth didn't even have time to react—
[BOOM–!!]
A vortex of energy tore through his mind like a hurricane.
Zoth screamed, collapsing to the ground. He clutched his head, eyes rolling back in agony.
Memories.
Flashes. Snapshots—like old reels of film—raced through his vision.
Battlefields. Blood. A spear piercing his chest. The screams of comrades.
Betrayal. A nameless enemy. Worlds reduced to ashes.
And… a curse.
"Zoth… Don't let… history… repeat…"
Zoth hissed through clenched teeth, his entire body convulsing. Veins bulged on his forehead, ready to burst. He writhed in the red earth, clawing at the ground—each fragment of memory burning through every cell in his brain.
---
Zoth Vari-El, a student at Heidelberg University—
A Russian exchange student currently studying in Germany.
That day, he had just finished an exhausting round of lectures and was walking back to his dorm. The night air was crisp and cold, and in his ears played the melancholic notes of Fate/Zero's "Point Zero" OST.
Suddenly—
The sharp screech of brakes tore through the night.
A truck. Completely out of control. Barreling straight toward him!
Zoth's instincts kicked in. He jumped back just in time as the truck swerved past him and slammed full-speed into a nearby streetlight.
He thought he'd made it. He thought fate had spared him.
He was wrong.
[CRASH–!!]
The toppled streetlight fell—straight onto his skull. Darkness swallowed his mind.
He died instantly.
"…My man just caught a cold foot to the afterlife."
Zoth's eyes snapped open.
Before him stretched a vast, emerald meadow. The breeze gently rustled the leaves, and the surface of a nearby crystal-clear lake shimmered like a mirror of the sky.
If this were the old world, the place would've already been turned into a five-star eco-resort.
Zoth sat up, dazed, glancing around.
"I… I got isekai'd?!"
His brain felt like it had exploded. All he ever wanted was a normal student life—study, binge anime, and graduate on time. But no—fate just had to drop the cheapest isekai cliché right on top of his head.
"Goddammit… where the hell even am I?!"
He scrambled to his feet, starting to stumble through the forest, mind filled with one word: survive.
Not that he had the first damn clue how.
Just as he was bracing himself for a night of starving under a tree, a streak of light slashed across the sky—
A shooting star, crashing directly into a nearby mountaintop!
No hesitation. Zoth sprinted toward it.
When he arrived, he saw a massive crater, smoke billowing into the sky. At the center, something gleamed with golden light.
Zoth's eyes widened.
"No freaking way… Don't tell me—?!"
He leapt down, waving the smoke aside, and gasped.
"Blyat!! That's Caladbolg from Kamen Rider Saber!!!"
The sword stood embedded in the earth, its golden-red blade radiating power. Without thinking, he grabbed it—
The moment he did, fire ignited around his waist.
Dark energy and golden lightning spiraled together, fusing into a driver belt.
"[Doom Driver Buckle]… and Caladbolg?!"
But it didn't stop there.
From his left palm, a small book materialized—red and white, its cover etched with a massive tree and a blazing sword.
Zoth stared. And then screamed:
"It's [Omni Force]!! With this setup, who the hell can stop me now?!"
He burst into laughter—mad, gleeful, echoing through the forest.
He knew. With these three artifacts—Driver, Sword, and Book—he wasn't just a player. He was the Master of the World.
Throwing the sword over his shoulder, Zoth began trekking through the woods, hunting for a way out.
He lasted five minutes.
"Oh for f*ck's sake!!!"
He collapsed to the ground.
He was completely lost.
Then—lightbulb moment.
He had [Omni Force]!
Whipping out the book, he transformed it into a fantasy-style GPS—something like a magical Google Maps.
Thirty minutes of walking later, a red dirt path finally emerged in front of him.
As he strolled along the dirt path, humming a random tune, Zoth finally felt a bit more at ease—
Until—
[Rustle rustle…]
A group of thugs emerged from the trees, surrounding him. Every one of them looked rough, armed with swords and daggers, eyes gleaming with malicious intent.
"Hey kid," one of them sneered, licking his lips, "those fancy clothes look expensive, huh?"
Zoth sighed.
He glanced down at himself—yeah, he was still in his university uniform. The kind that screamed elite international student.
"So I really did get sent to some ancient-ass timeline…" he muttered under his breath.
The thugs laughed at his reaction.
"This brat's never been mugged before, huh?" one of them growled.
Zoth didn't respond. He simply stared, voice cold and low:
"Have any of you… ever killed someone?"
"Pff—what if we have?" the leader scoffed. "You think you're some knight in shining armor?"
Zoth slowly unsheathed Caladbolg.
His voice barely more than a whisper.
"Then there's nothing more to say."
[BOOM—!!]
One swing.
Reality cracked.
The air split apart with a sonic boom. Earth and stone exploded skyward. Half the road vanished into a swirling void.
The thugs?
Gone. Erased. Not even ashes left behind.
Zoth calmly slid his sword back into its scabbard and kept walking.
He paused beside the one guy who hadn't completely vaporized, rummaged through the corpse's pouch, and pulled out a small coin bag.
"…Should've just sliced them in half instead of disintegrating them," he muttered, shaking the pouch regretfully.
He continued down the path.
Eventually, a small town appeared on the horizon.
A caravan of merchants was approaching its gates. Zoth casually slipped into the group, watching the guards ahead—knights, most likely—checking travelers' papers like a medieval version of border control.
Zoth narrowed his eyes.
Quietly, he activated [Omni Force], forging a magical illusion of a "travel pass."
The knights glanced at it, nodded, and waved him through.
Zoth used the chance to ask,
"Excuse me, sirs… but, uh… where exactly am I?"
One of the knights replied flatly:
"Tours. Capital of the province Indre-et-Loire. Why do you ask?"
Zoth chuckled awkwardly.
"Ah… I'm a traveler. Always wandering, you know."
The knights nodded and turned back to their post.
Zoth stepped into the town, his gaze drifting toward the distant castle skyline. He exhaled slowly.
"…So I really did get sent to ancient France."
As he wandered deeper into the cobbled streets, he began noticing people whispering and staring.
Zoth looked down—and groaned.
He was still wearing his modern-day university uniform.
"Goddammit—of course they're staring."
He ducked into a nearby clothing shop and bought a plain set of roughspun linen clothes—something a regular peasant or traveler might wear. Enough to blend in and avoid suspicion.
Cost: 20 francs.
Left in the pouch: 72 coins.
"Well… at least I've got enough for a couple meals," he muttered, patting the pouch.
Zoth stepped back out into the street, now dressed like a local.
Above him, the ancient sky stretched wide and endless—
And somewhere within it, destiny waited.