Y/N's Bizzare Impact

A tree, a mask and some arrows

Death wasn't supposed to look like a theater.

Y/N remembered the screech of tires, the heavy, metallic crunch of the chassis, and the sudden, merciful dark. He had expected the quiet void, or perhaps whatever afterlife waited for a guy who spent his weekends binging old anime. Instead, his soul was yanked upward into a cosmic canopy of blinding, woven gold—the roots of the Imaginary Tree.

A massive, shifting presence loomed over him. It didn't possess a face, only a cascade of laughing theatre masks that echoed with the sound of breaking glass and circus calliopes. Aha the Elation had intercepted a stray soul slipping between realities.

"A human from a world without Honkai? Delightful," the laughter rattled the boy's teeth. "A world where the cosmic threat is a meme on a screen? How tragically boring. Let us fix the balance. Let us see how a mortal breathes when the joke becomes reality."

With a violent shove, the entity didn't grant him a holy sword or a system. It reached into the boy's own memories, dragging out the concept he held dearest—the bizarre, fictional rules of a supernatural bloodline. The entity condensed that fictional data into raw, heavy meteoric iron, forging a handful of jagged arrows before shoving them, and the boy, straight down into the cold, toxic dirt of a dying Earth.

Y/N shot awake, sitting up in an area that could only be described as.... Destroyed. Brick walls, turned to rubble, bodies littering the streets, and fires raging everywhere. What was this world..?

His head felt like it was burning, as he struggled to breathe. He could feel his veins clogging up, his eyes melting, his skin stretching and contorting. Looking down as best as he could, Y/N could see the pink lines creeping up his body, an infection he had never seen before.

Then, a few simple bits of information flooded his mind, left over, from his bathing in the radiance in the Imaginary Tree. The Honkai. That was what had caused this, and what was mutating him. A sickening, vile plague upon humanity.

Or was humanity deserving of this new illness sent to cull their numbers? The Imaginary Tree had imparted much to Y/N, as if pitying the poor soul, who could barely even know what his gift by a cosmic clown was. Valkyries. Otto Apocalypse. Kevin Khaslana. Why were these names so important? Y/N did not know. But what he could barely remember, was the feeling of power settling within his body. 

Aha did love THEIR games. THEY had granted him a power from a series he had always enjoyed, but one that had been changed, fundamentally, to keep him alive, so this Fool of Fools could watch him struggle.

"B-Breat-the... Do-on't st-top... How.. did.... How did, J-Joese-eph... Do... it...."

Even as mere breathing began to cause black spots on the edges of his vision, Y/N did not give up. He kept breathing, kept straining, until he felt a warm energy filling his lungs. A soft golden static began to spark around the pink, burning them away. The pain was immeasurable, yet he could not stop.

After minutes of agonising breathing, which felt like hours to the damaged body of Y/N, the pink had receded completely. Collapsing to his knees, he panted heavily, feeling the phantom pain racking his body.

Hamon. The power of sunlight, used to eviscerate the undead and augment the healing of the user. Y/N let out a heavy sigh, mentally thanking the Imaginary Tree and Aha (though he still held a small grudge against the trickster for sending him here anyway.) for granting him knowledge and power.

Then, came a growling, actually, it was closer to a low groaning moan, raspy and pain. From around the corner, came a zombie. 

The thing that shuffled into the dim, smoky light didn't look like a classic horror movie monster. It was a girl, or at least it had been one, still wearing the torn rags of a high school uniform. But her skin was a pale, sickly grey, and her eyes burned with an unholy, neon-pink light. Thick, crystalline spikes of pink energy protruded violently from her shoulders, twitching with a parasitic life of their own.