Arrival in an isekai

You close your eyes and extend your perception across dimensional boundaries. The Gundam Seed timeline variant materializes in your awareness, countless probability threads converging on the memorial ship Silverwind approaching the Debris Belt. You locate a specific moment: one day before the attack that will kill Lacus Clyne.

With a gesture, silver light tears reality open in the library. The dimensional gate stabilizes, showing a maintenance corridor in Heliopolis colony. Jibril's golden eyes gleam with anticipation.

"Begin your acquisition," you tell her. "I'll handle Lacus personally."

Jibril nods and dives through the portal, white wings folding as she enters the maintenance corridor. The gate remains stable behind her as you follow through and shift your focus.

You cast your scrying perception toward the Silverwind. The memorial ship drifts through space, its white hull marked with peace symbols and diplomatic insignia. Inside, pink-haired Lacus Clyne sits in her private quarters reviewing her speech for tomorrow's ceremony. She wears a flowing white dress, emerald eyes thoughtful as she practices her words.

The bridge crew operates efficiently around Captain Waldfeld, a grizzled veteran who accepted this escort mission despite his combat background. He stands reviewing navigation data while three junior officers monitor systems.

You teleport directly in front of the Silverwind's trajectory, into hard vacuum. Space holds no threat to your level-100 multi-racial benefits. You match the ship's velocity effortlessly, floating before the bridge viewport.

Your telepathic message reaches both the captain and Lacus simultaneously. "Captain Waldfeld. Miss Clyne. Please come to the bridge. I wish to speak with you."

On the bridge, Waldfeld jerks upright. "What in blazes?"

Through the viewport, bridge officers spot you. One screams. Another reaches for the weapons console before Waldfeld stops him with raised hand.

"Sir, there's someone outside the ship!" the sensor officer shouts. "No suit, no propulsion, just floating there matching our speed!"

Lacus arrives moments later, emerald eyes widening as she sees you through the viewport. "How is that possible?"

You speak again via telepathy, your voice calm in their minds. "I mean no harm. I come with an offer that concerns Miss Clyne's future. May I enter your bridge? I assure you I require no airlock."

Waldfeld stares at you for long moment, hand hovering near his sidearm. Then he glances at Lacus, who meets his gaze with surprising calm.

"Let him in," she says softly. "If he wished us harm, I suspect our weapons would prove ineffective."

Waldfeld grunts acknowledgment. "Permission granted. But one wrong move and we'll test that theory."

You phase through the reinforced viewport like it doesn't exist, stepping onto the bridge without disturbing the atmosphere. The junior officers back away, weapons drawn but trembling.

Lacus studies you with remarkable composure for someone facing the impossible. "You said you have an offer concerning my future. What future did you have in mind?"

You smile at Lacus, allowing genuine warmth to color your expression despite the absurdity of floating before a spaceship bridge moments ago. "That is a loaded question, at an odd moment," you acknowledge. "Should I reply with a cheesy pickup line or skip straight to how I want you as a member of my adventuring harem?"

Waldfeld's hand drops to his sidearm. "Now wait just a damn minute."

"Let me introduce myself properly," you continue, ignoring the captain's tension. "There should be ancient stories in your world about dragons and wizards, reincarnation and protagonists becoming strong enough to travel dimensions. My name is Blank. I became one of these multiverse individuals through a fantasy world, and am currently traveling the multiverse in pursuit of my childhood crushes. Among them, Lacus Clyne."

Lacus tilts her head slightly, emerald eyes studying you with remarkable composure. "You claim to travel between universes seeking romantic partners?"

"Among other pursuits," you confirm. "But yes. I already know you, Lacus. In most timelines, you die tomorrow along with the Silverwind and everyone aboard when certain forces attack this ship. They intend to eliminate you as a political threat to their military hardliners."

The bridge goes silent. Waldfeld's face darkens. "That's one hell of an accusation."

"It's verifiable fact," you say calmly. "Check your long-range sensors in approximately twenty-three hours. You'll detect mobile suits approaching on attack vectors. Or you can accept my offer and avoid the situation entirely."

Lacus stands straighter, hands folded before her. "What exactly are you offering?"

"Come with me willingly on an adventure across worlds to gain power and learn magic. Officially, Lacus Clyne was kidnapped off the bridge by a mysterious individual. The Silverwind is required to return to report the kidnapping in person and reattempt funeral preparations with a different representative and escort."

"You want me to fake my own abduction?" Lacus asks, something unreadable flickering through her expression.

"I want you to choose freely," you correct. "You can remain here and die tomorrow as history intends. Or you can come with me and discover what exists beyond this single universe. I'm offering genuine adventure, magical training, and survival."

Waldfeld steps forward. "Miss Clyne, you can't seriously be considering this lunacy."

Lacus doesn't look away from you. "You say you know me. Then you understand I cannot simply abandon my responsibilities to the peace movement. My voice matters here."

"Your voice matters everywhere," you counter. "But only if you're alive to use it. Dead martyrs inspire songs. Living advocates change policy. Which would you prefer to be?"

She considers this for long moment, pink hair catching bridge lighting as junior officers watch with obvious alarm. Finally she speaks again. "If I agreed, hypothetically, what guarantees would I have regarding my safety and autonomy?"

You keep your expression open and honest as you respond. "The adventures will progress slowly from world to world, starting with the simple and classic whack-a-zombie. Eventually building up in difficulty to hunting dragons, traveling kingdoms and changing time."

Lacus tilts her head slightly, emerald eyes thoughtful. "A progression system. You intend to train me gradually rather than throw me into overwhelming danger immediately."

"Slowly. If the challenge is one which you're capable of overcoming but choose not to, such as using your body to shield a child from a zombie instead of whacking said zombie, then your choice is death. If you were outnumbered or overpowered, then you will be saved, or if required, resurrected."

Waldfeld's expression darkens. "You're describing a remarkably brutal training regime, son."

"Brutal by description, but done carefully." you counter calmly. "Choices have consequences. But unlike here, where you'll die tomorrow without recourse, I provide safety nets. Resurrection magic exists and I possess it."

Lacus studies you for long moment. "And autonomy?"

"If I wanted a mindless puppet, I'd be using mind control and not offering you a choice. Become stronger martial or magic, and you won't be asking permission. I have little interest in micromanaging beyond our relationship."

"Our relationship," Lacus repeats carefully. "You mentioned harem earlier. You expect romantic involvement as condition of survival?"

"I expect it to develop naturally," you clarify. "I'm not rescuing random strangers across dimensions. I'm pursuing women I genuinely care about. You specifically, Lacus. Your voice, your ideals, your determination. Those matter to me beyond simple physical attraction."

She considers this while junior officers exchange uncomfortable glances. Waldfeld maintains protective posture but hasn't drawn his weapon.

"If you decline," you add, "do I instead have your consent to revive you after your death? I could wait until tomorrow's attack and resurrect only you afterward. But that seems needlessly traumatic for everyone involved."

Lacus's eyes widen slightly. "You would resurrect me regardless of my current answer?"

"If I have your consent. Though I'd prefer you choose life now rather than death first. Resurrection removes physical damage but psychological trauma from violent death tends to linger."

Waldfeld steps forward. "Miss Clyne, this is insane. You can't trust someone who appears from nowhere making impossible claims."

"Can't I?" Lacus asks softly, not looking away from you. "He survived hard vacuum and phased through reinforced viewport. Either he's telling truth about dimensional travel and magic, or I'm hallucinating this entire conversation. Which seems more likely?"

The captain has no immediate response.

Lacus takes slow breath, pink hair shifting as she straightens her shoulders. "I need clarification on one point. You said 'beyond our relationship' regarding micromanaging. What specifically does that mean for intimate matters?"

You maintain steady eye contact with Lacus as you answer. "The phrases 'be my woman' and 'marry me' tend to get mixed up and change meanings between cultures and societies. I refer to my women, my partners, my lovers as my harem, mostly possessive because I detest the idea of sharing my lovers with other men."

Lacus tilts her head slightly, pink hair catching the bridge lighting. "A possessive arrangement, then. Exclusive to you but not exclusive between partners."

"If your interested or accepting. There are several young virgin women who like you have joined in the last few days. Our relationships and emotions will develop with time. As to if you're expecting to be tied up and your chastity taken violently, it's not my preference."

You pause deliberately, letting the question hang. "Though do you want that?"

Waldfeld makes strangled sound. "This conversation has gone completely off the rails."

Lacus ignores him, emerald eyes focused entirely on you. "No. I appreciate the clarification that violence isn't your approach. But you mentioned progression. What timeline are we discussing?"

"My potential list of women has from fifty to a hundred and fifty women on it intended, likely with a few surprises added. At the moment I'm getting maybe an hour a day with twenty girls, most of them still virgin. As the numbers of women increase, I imagine it will be days between intimacy with certain women if they don't seek me out themselves."

Lacus processes this information with remarkable composure. "So you're proposing I become part of a rotating schedule of intimate partners while simultaneously training to survive dimensional adventures. And you expect emotional attachment to develop naturally within this framework."

"Essentially, yes. Though I won't force artificial timelines. Some integrate faster than others. Some seek more frequent contact, others prefer independence. The harem design intentionally allows flexibility."

"And if I decline intimate involvement entirely?" Lacus asks carefully. "Would you still offer dimensional travel and training?"

You consider this honestly. "I could. But I won't pretend my primary motivation is altruistic rescue work. I'm pursuing women I genuinely desire. Offering survival as leverage may feel like coercion when the alternative is guaranteed death, however is not when said death has nothing to do with me, That said I won't force physical intimacy on unwilling partners."

Waldfeld steps forward again. "Miss Clyne, please reconsider this madness. You have responsibilities here."

Lacus finally looks at her captain, expression thoughtful. "Captain, if this man speaks truth about tomorrow's attack, my responsibilities here end with my death. If he lies, I can always refuse later once his claims prove false."

She turns back to you. "I have one final question before deciding. You mentioned resurrection magic. If I die during training, what happens to my consciousness during that period? Do I simply cease to exist until restored?"

"You experience brief darkness, then awakening," you explain. "No suffering during the interval. Physical damage removes completely. Psychological trauma from the death itself may linger depending on circumstances. Death, is not supposed to be a pleasant experience."

Lacus takes slow breath, emerald eyes steady. "Then I accept your offer. On condition that you prove your resurrection capability before I engage in any life-threatening training."

You smile at Lacus with deliberate teasing warmth. "Are you suggesting I kill someone here in order to demonstrate resurrection? There will be opportunities to show you resurrection before we enter a trial world. For now I have no doubt that the recording of this will be rather heavily secured after we leave, so if you have something you'd like to say, for example to Siegel Clyne, while I won't be visiting to ask for your daughter's hand, know that I will take care of her."

Lacus's emerald eyes widen slightly before understanding settles across her features. She turns to face the bridge crew directly, particularly Captain Waldfeld. "Captain, please ensure my father receives accurate recording of this conversation. Tell him I chose this freely, that I was offered genuine choice between certain death and dimensional adventure."

Waldfeld's jaw tightens. "Miss Clyne, I cannot in good conscience allow this."

"You cannot prevent it," Lacus corrects gently. "But you can honor my wishes by ensuring my father understands I was not coerced. Tell him his daughter chose life over martyrdom, and that I will return when circumstances permit."

She pauses, pink hair catching bridge lighting as she addresses the junior officers. "Tell PLANT leadership that Lacus Clyne died as scheduled in tomorrow's attack. My political role here ends regardless. Better they mourn a martyr than hunt a deserter."

One junior officer stammers. "But you're not dead. We can't lie about that."

"You'll report accurately what happened," Lacus says firmly. "A dimensional traveler appeared, made an offer, and I accepted. Whether they choose to publicize that truth or simplify it into 'killed in attack' remains their decision, not ours."

Waldfeld exhales slowly. "You've thought this through."

"I had approximately three minutes," Lacus acknowledges with small smile. "But yes. My father will grieve either way. At least this version leaves possibility of reunion."

You extend your hand toward her. "Ready?"

Lacus takes your hand without hesitation, emerald eyes steady despite obvious uncertainty about what comes next. Silver light flares across the bridge as you teleport.

You materialize in the maintenance corridor where Jibril entered earlier. The dimensional gate to Nazarick glows softly nearby, silver edges defining the portal. Lacus releases your hand and turns slowly, taking in the unfamiliar architecture.

"This is Heliopolis colony," you explain. "We're waiting for Jibril, an angel of knowledge and battle, one of your harem-sisters, to finish acquiring copies of this world's knowledge from different countries. We have perhaps fifteen minutes before she returns."

Lacus processes this calmly. "You mentioned harem-sisters. How many women currently share your attention?"

"Thirty, with three indecisive, you making thirty-one. Most joined within the last week. You'll meet them soon. "

"And this Jibril is stealing information right now?" Lacus asks carefully.

"Copying, not stealing. The original databases remain intact. She's acquiring coordinator genetics research and mobile suit technical specifications. Knowledge I intend to incorporate into other projects."

Lacus tilts her head slightly. "Will we take a simple walk to waste time, or progress to where I'll be living for the foreseeable future?"

You take Lacus's hand and gesture toward the glowing silver portal. "This leads to Nazarick, my primary base. Specifically to the multidimensional library where Jibril works."

Lacus studies the dimensional gate with scientific curiosity before stepping through beside you. The transition feels instantaneous, reality shifting from utilitarian colony maintenance corridor to vast library stretching impossibly far in all directions. Bookshelves tower hundreds of feet overhead, connected by floating platforms and spiral staircases that defy normal architectural logic.

"This is remarkable," Lacus breathes, emerald eyes wide as she takes in the scope. "How many volumes are stored here?"

"Millions, across multiple dimensions and timelines. Jibril maintains the collection obsessively." You maintain gentle hold on her hand, drawing her attention back to you. "Though I'd prefer focusing on you right now rather than library logistics."

You raise her hand slowly, pressing lips to her fingertips with deliberate softness. Lacus watches without pulling away, pink hair framing her face as you kiss your way across her knuckles, then her wrist, then gradually up her forearm. She remains still, breathing measured, emerald eyes steady on yours.

When you finally reach her lips, she meets you halfway, accepting the kiss with calm precision rather than passion. It feels evaluative, like she's testing parameters of this new arrangement.

You draw back slightly, maintaining eye contact. "While we wait for Jibril, I'm going to ask my new songstress to take off her panties, sit on that bed and spread her legs. I'm going to kiss your lower lips gently until you sing for me. And I'll keep you singing until she returns."

You gesture toward Jibril's sleeping alcove, a comfortable space carved into the library architecture with plush bedding visible.

Lacus processes this request for several seconds. "You're asking rather than ordering. I appreciate that. And you're being direct about intentions rather than disguising them as something else."

"Correct on both counts."

She takes slow breath, then nods once. "Very well. This falls within parameters I accepted when agreeing to join your harem. Though I should mention I have no experience with such activities."

"I gathered that from context. Your inexperience is something I treasure as much as giving you that experience myself."

Lacus walks toward the alcove with remarkable composure given circumstances, reaching beneath her flowing white dress to remove undergarments. She settles onto the bed, arranging herself as requested, emerald eyes watching you approach.

"I'm curious whether this will actually produce the vocal response you're anticipating," she says with slight clinical detachment. "My singing voice is well-trained, but I've never tested it under these particular conditions."

You kneel before her, hands settling gently on her thighs. "Then let's find out together."