Jacob Wilkins was not someone popular. Not in the traditional sense. Not even in a metaphorical sense. If anything, he was the guy you'd walk past at the convenience store without even noticing, the one with a hoodie two sizes too big, earbuds in, hunched over his phone while waiting for cup ramen to finish microwaving.
Aged twenty-two, Jacob's world was no bigger than his small studio apartment, his high-speed internet connection, and his ever-growing anime watchlist. If there were medals for the most hours logged on streaming sites or manga forums, he'd have a trophy shelf full. Instead, all he had was a dual-monitor setup, a neglected gaming chair that squeaked with judgment, and a habit of sleeping through the sunrise.
Reality didn't interest him much. Not when fantasy offered better friends, bigger dreams, and actual stakes.
He'd always joked online, "If I ever get isekai'd, I'm totally speedrunning the Demon Lord title." It was supposed to be funny. A joke. A meme.
It wasn't supposed to be a prophecy.
It was an ordinary day—or night, he wasn't quite sure anymore. Jacob had just finished bingeing through a twenty-episode arc of an obscure shonen anime he'd been recommended by a guy on Reddit. Feeling grimy from three days without a proper shower (he blamed the cliffhangers), he peeled himself away from the screen and stumbled into the bathroom.
His foot caught on the edge of a towel. He slipped. Time slowed.
Smack.
Everything went dark.
When Jacob opened his eyes, the first thing he registered wasn't light, but sound—the echo of wailing. Not digital. Not from speakers. Real.
His eyes fluttered open to the sight of a vaulted ceiling and flickering candlelight. A faint smell of incense hung in the air, and an old man stood over him wearing priest-like robes. His face, lined with age and kindness, looked equal parts surprised and moved.
Beside Jacob, two infants cried in tiny wooden cribs.
"Three…?" the old man murmured, eyes misting. "Three of them…?"
Jacob blinked. What the hell?
He tried to sit up, but his limbs didn't respond right. His body felt…small. Lighter. Wrong.
Then the pain hit—dull and distant, like a thud on the back of his head. The memories flooded in. The slip. The fall. The final thought before unconsciousness: Not like this.
And then—this.
He looked down at his hands. Small. Chubby. Baby hands.
And as if summoned by the confusion, a soft ding echoed in his head. A transparent blue box blinked into view, floating in front of his eyes.
[Welcome, Jin.]
[Multiversal System Initialization Complete.]
[You have entered: World #1567930170240 – "Black Clover"]
Jin? My names Jin!? He thought confused.
Jacob—no, Jin—stared at the screen.
Wait. WAIT.
Black Clover?!
He looked again at the two babies beside him. One with scruffy black hair and a wild temper tantrum going on. The other, silent, with a piercing gaze even as a newborn.
His jaw would've dropped if it weren't for the fact he didn't yet have full control over his jaw.
That's Asta and Yuno. A thrill of panic and excitement surged in him. He wasn't just isekai'd, he was isekai'd into Black Clover, reborn alongside the main characters.
Okay. Don't freak out. Play it cool. You've trained for this your whole life. Anime rules. Manga logic. You've got a system, that's already a cheat. You're fine. You're more than fine.
And yet, looking down at his tiny body and hearing the priest—Father Orsi, his memory supplied—mutter prayers of thanks to the gods, Jin realized something critical:
I'm… a baby again. A cry escaped his lips—less from fear, more from sheer existential overwhelm.
Father Orsi bent over him and smiled gently. "There, there, little one. It's all right. You're safe now."
The old man glanced between the three infants. "Asta. Yuno. And… Jin. You're all miracles, my children."
Jin wanted to scream Plot twist! but instead just gurgled.
Inside his mind, the System chimed once more.
[Host would you like a tutorial!?]