The void rippled like a living canvas, swirling galaxies shifting lazily beneath Azrael's feet—if he even had feet anymore.
The silence was oddly peaceful.
Before him stood the old man again, the one who'd greeted him after death. Tall, robed, and timeless, with eyes like twin stars and a beard that flowed like an ancient river.
"So, you're ready?" the old man asked, a faint smile on his face.
Azrael crossed his arms and raised a brow. "Depends. Am I getting scammed with reincarnation terms and conditions, or are we talking premium deluxe isekai package?"
The old man laughed, a deep, rolling sound that made the cosmos tremble with mirth. "A sharp tongue for a dead boy. Good. Keeps things interesting."
With a flick of his hand, five glowing sigils formed in the air between them. They shimmered with colors no human eye was meant to perceive.
"You get five gifts," the old man said. "Three of your choosing. Two of mine. Because, frankly, I'm bored."
Azrael squinted at the swirling glyphs, his expression morphing from curious to greedy faster than a gacha whale spotting a limited SSR banner.
"Alright," Azrael grinned. "Let's roll. First wish—I want a System. Multiversal, daily sign-in, the whole shebang."
"Define 'whole shebang'," the old man said dryly.
Azrael ticked off his fingers. "Self-aware. Loyal. Semi-Sentiment.Pulls rewards from across the multiverse—skills, items, titles, whatever. Also has a Store, Quest Board, and Infinite Inventory."
The old man raised a bushy eyebrow. "Demanding. But approved."
One of the sigils spun faster, glowing with golden light before merging into Azrael's chest. A faint hum echoed in his mind, like a system powering on.
[System Initialization Complete. Welcome, Azrael. Sign-In Available. Rewards Pending.]
Azrael grinned. "Nice."
"Second wish?" the old man prompted.
"The ability to travel the multiverse and A Pocket Universe. My own personal realm where time moves however I want, I control the laws, and no one gets in unless I say so And Absolute Control."
The old man's smile widened. "A sovereign's adventure and his space. A classic. Approved."
The second sigil dove into Azrael like a comet. Images of floating islands, starry skies, and eternal sunsets flashed through his mind.
"Third wish..." Azrael tapped his chin. "Template. I want power. Not just strong—I want to be broken. I want the most overpowered version of Superman. The golden god himself."
The old man's smile faltered just a moment.
"Superman Prime One Million. The one who bathed in the sun for fifteen thousand years, reshaped reality with punches, and heard prayers across time and space."
Azrael nodded. "That's the one."
The old man chuckled. "You'll be unstoppable. Approved. But you'll have to grow into it. No fun in handing you everything upfront."
"Deal."
The final sigil burned like a miniature sun, flaring gold before fusing into his being. His body—if he still had one—felt brighter somehow. Stronger. Potential coiled like a sleeping dragon in his core.
"Now," the old man said, clapping his hands. "My two gifts. Surprise gifts. One curse. One blessing. Neither can be refused."
Azrael frowned. "You didn't say anything about a curse."
"Surprise," the old man said with a wink. "But don't worry. You'll come to appreciate it. Eventually."
Before Azrael could argue, two new sigils appeared, one silver and the other pitch-black. They sank into him like rain into soil.
He shuddered. Something in him shifted.
"You'll learn what they are in time," the old man said, looking far too amused.
Azrael sighed. "Fine. So what world am I going to first?"
The old man waved a hand. A vision of a scarred boy with messy black hair, glasses, and a lightning-bolt scar flickered in the air.
"You'll be reborn in the Harry Potter universe."
Azrael raised a brow. "Interesting."
"Any preferences? Bloodline, name, body?"
Azrael smirked. "Put me in the boy's shoes. Literally. I want to be the Boy Who Lived."
"Fame and pity?"
"Harem potential," Azrael said bluntly. "Hermione, Fleur, Tonks, Cassandra... it's a buffet of beauties. I'll build from there."
The old man blinked. "Well, at least you're honest."
"Always."
"Very well. Your memories will remain intact, though you'll need to fake confusion for a while."
"Naturally. Can't blow my cover in Year One."
The old man raised his hand.
"Good luck, Azrael. And try not to break the universe too quickly."
Azrael chuckled.
"No promises."
Light consumed him.
----------
[20 th July 1991]
[Privet Drive, Surrey, England]
Azrael awoke in a cramped cupboard under the stairs, the musty scent of dust and neglect filling his nostrils. He sat up, bumping his head on the low ceiling.
"Ugh," he muttered, rubbing his forehead. "So this is the Dursleys' hospitality."
Memories flooded in—both his own and Harry's. He sifted through them, organizing and compartmentalizing.
The world greeted him with dust.
And the smell of mildew, rotting wood, and socks that had long since given up their will to live.
Light sliced through the slats of the door, golden and warm, casting strips across his skinny forearm.
His body ached.
Ribs, arms, back—each breath like dragging broken glass.
And yet… he smiled.
Because he remembered.
Everything.
The god. The deal. The wishes. The new life.
This was no dream.
This was his rebirth.
"Get up, boy!" came the guttural growl from the kitchen. "And don't you dare be late with breakfast again!"
Uncle Vernon.
Still the same walrus-shaped tyrant with a heart as greasy as his bacon.
The cupboard door rattled as Vernon passed by, muttering obscenities.
Azrael sat up slowly. Bones popped. Skin itched where bruises were beginning to fade—no, heal.
Then he felt it.
The sun.
A single shaft of light slipped through the vent above the cupboard door and touched his face. It was soft. Gentle.
And then something deep inside him stirred.
His breath hitched.
There was a hum in his bones. A low vibration that grew louder with every second. The moment that light kissed his skin, it was like… everything changed.
The pain disappeared.
Hunger? Gone.
Bruises? Healing.
His spine straightened, muscles warmed, blood pumped with purpose.
It wasn't just a magical effect. No, this was something else.
This was cosmic.
The sun filled him.
A celestial engine revving back to life.
And in that radiant moment, something unlocked.
Ding.
[Welcome, Azrael.]
[Identity: Harry James Potter.]
[Template Equipped: Superman Prime One Million.]
[System Online.]
Azrael blinked.
"…That was fast."
[Response: Initialization complete. All features dormant until user inquiry or trigger.]
"Well then," he murmured, "hello, old friend."
---
He pushed open the cupboard door and stepped out.
For the first time, he didn't shuffle.
He didn't limp.
He moved like a storm that chose to be calm.
The kitchen was bright with early morning sun. Vernon was at the table, reading the paper, fork in one hand, the other drumming impatiently.
Petunia hovered by the stove.
Dudley was already halfway through his second helping of sausages.
"About time you—" Vernon began without looking up, then paused.
Azrael stood straighter than they'd ever seen. His face wasn't pale—it was radiant. Not glowing unnaturally, but healthier than any malnourished orphan had the right to be.
"What's with you?" Vernon squinted. "You look… different."
Petunia turned, and her eyes widened. "Did you do something to your face?"
Azrael glanced at her, calm. "Just woke up."
Vernon's jaw tightened. "What are you smirking at, boy? Think you can skip chores now, do you?"
Azrael's expression didn't change. "I'm not smirking."
"Yes, you bloody well are," Vernon snapped, slamming the table. "Wipe that look off your face and get to the stove before I—"
Azrael turned to face him fully.
Just one step forward.
One deliberate step.
His green eyes shimmered faintly—gold flickering at the edge.
Vernon went silent.
Something primal in the back of his lizard brain screamed danger.
Azrael didn't yell.
Didn't threaten.
He just looked.
And that was enough.
Vernon's nostrils flared. His fists clenched and unclenched. "Boy… if you think you can start acting high and mighty just because you hit puberty…"
Azrael cut him off, voice quiet. Measured.
"I'm going outside. I need air. And sunlight."
Vernon rose from his seat. "You'll do your damn chores first, or I'll—"
Azrael didn't move.
But the air did.
It compressed around him, like reality itself leaned closer to listen.
"If you try to lay a hand on me," he said softly, "you'll regret it."
It wasn't a threat.
It was a fact.
Vernon froze.
Petunia stepped between them, nervous laugh bubbling from her throat.
"No need for all this, Vernon. It's just… fresh air. Let him go breathe."
Dudley dropped his fork.
The room was silent.
Azrael gave them one last look—cool, calm, unreadable—then turned and walked out the back door.
---
Backyard, Privet Drive – 7:46 AM
The moment the sunlight hit his skin, his breath caught.
It was like being baptized in gold.
Every cell in his body sang.
He tilted his head toward the rising sun. Let it drench him. Soak into him. Feed the cosmic engine coiled in his bones.
The hum grew louder.
His heart beat once.
Twice.
BOOM.
Like a solar flare under his skin.
He felt it. Power. Vast and endless.
The hunger he'd lived with his whole childhood was gone.
His body—the fragile thing that barely scraped by—was changing. Cells bursting into life. Muscles knitting, strengthening. His very skeleton reinforced by alien perfection.
And deep within his mind…
[Template Integration: 1%]
[Solar Absorption Rate: Normalized]
[Kryptonian Physiology Fully Active Under Yellow Sun.]
He opened his eyes.
Golden fire danced in the green.
"…So this is what being alive feels like."
He looked down at his hands. Flexed his fingers. Felt strength humming in every twitch.
He took a breath and held it—for nearly two minutes—just to feel the control.
"System," he whispered. "Status?"
[Features Available: Inventory, Store, Quest Log, Sign-In Bonus, Template Management.]
[Unclaimed Item: Beginner's Starter Pack.]
[Notice: Daily Sign-In Bonus Available.]
A slow grin spread across his face.
"Oh, you're spoiling me already."
He stretched once, his joints cracking for the last time in human memory.
He looked at the sky.
""I think it's time I started being who i am meant to be."
---
POV Shift – Petunia Dursley
She watched from the window.
The boy—her sister's son—was standing perfectly still in the sunlight, like some ancient statue.
But she felt it.
That wasn't the Harry she'd known.
There was something… wrong.
Or worse.
Different.
"Vernon…" she whispered. "He's… glowing."
---
Back to Azrael
He raised his hand to the sky, basking in the warmth.
The System's interface pulsed faintly in his mind's eye.
[Would you like to open the Beginner's Pack?]
[Would you like to claim your first Daily Sign-In Bonus?]
"Oh," Azrael whispered, eyes gleaming.
"Yes, please.".....
--------------
Author's Note –
Welcome to a new journey—where isekai meets wizardry, technology, madness, and divinity crashes headfirst into destiny. This is not your average Multiversal fanfic. Here, Azrael, an otaku's soul with a cosmic wish list, takes center stage in a twisted rebirth that rewrites fate with power, wit, and just a hint of menace.
Expect an overpowered protagonist, multiversal mechanics, and unapologetic system shenanigans. Canon? Optional. Drama? Absolutely. Harem? Guarrented. Chaos? Guaranteed.
Thanks for giving this story a shot. If you like what you read, drop a comment, review, or just scream into the void—it all fuels the magic.
See you in Chapter 2.