Zero’s Reign: Reincarnated with a Gacha Clone System

After finishing their meal, Zero leaned back in his chair, tapping his fingers against the table. His mind had been racing with possibilities ever since he succeeded in making a second clone.

He looked at Z and Soma, both still casually sitting at the table, relaxed and unbothered.

"Hey, I've been thinking…"

Soma raised an eyebrow. "Oh? That's dangerous. Should I call for help?"

Zero ignored him and continued, "If clones can materialize and then change form after absorbing a character card… doesn't that mean you two can change forms however you want? Like… at will?"

Both Z and Soma tilted their heads in unison, thinking about it.

A beat passed.

Then, Z closed his eyes, as if trying to will himself into another form.

After a few moments, he opened them again, frowning. "Nope. Can't do it. I feel like something is… missing."

Soma snapped his fingers. "Oh! I think I get it."

Zero turned to him. "Oh? The great Chef Soma has had a revelation?"

Soma smirked. "Damn right. When I absorbed the Soma Yukihira card, I didn't choose this form—it was forced on me. I think that's why Z felt something missing when he tried to change. There's no catalyst."

Zero nodded, intrigued. "That makes sense. Well, let's test it."

He pulled out two Gacha cards from his pocket and held them up.

Shinichi Kudo (Child Form)

Erwin Smith

Zero grinned. "Wanna try something fun?"

Z leaned forward, eyeing the cards before smirking. "Hell yeah."

Zero pressed the Conan card against Z's forehead.

The effect was instantaneous.

Z's body shrank rapidly. His limbs reformed, his hair darkened, and in an instant, a small child stood in his place—the spitting image of Conan Edogawa.

Soma let out a low whistle. "Well, damn. You actually turned into a kid."

Zero crouched down, inspecting him with curiosity. "How do you feel? Different?"

Z adjusted the tiny glasses on his face and crossed his arms. "Short."

Soma chuckled. "Hey, do you think if we got a female character card, you could turn into a woman?"

Zero and Z both answered at the same time.

"I would."

Soma rolled his eyes. "Of course, you both would say that."

Zero grinned. "Alright, Z. How do you think you can change back?"

Soma leaned against the table. "No need to test it. I already tried before. Once a card is absorbed, it's permanent. You can't undo it."

Zero nodded, filing that information away. "Alright. That's another thing off the list."

Then he smirked.

"Let's try adding another card."

Z frowned. "Do you think that's wise? We're experimenting blindly."

Soma flicked Z's forehead. "Oi, don't start acting smart now. Just do it, Zero."

Zero pressed the Erwin Smith card against Z's forehead.

The moment the card absorbed, Z's body stiffened violently.

His small hands clutched at his throat, his tiny form shaking as if something was crushing him from the inside.

"Z?!" Zero's eyes widened.

Z staggered, his breath coming in short, strained gasps.

Then—without warning—

He lunged forward and sank his teeth into Zero's arm.

Zero let out a sharp gasp, pain shooting through him as blood poured into Z's mouth.

Soma shot up from his seat. "The hell?!"

After a few long moments, Z released his grip, staggering back. His breathing steadied, his body stabilizing.

Zero clutched his bleeding arm, grimacing. "Okay. That was NOT normal."

Z exhaled, standing upright.

And when he spoke—

His voice carried something new.

Something commanding.

Something powerful.

"What did I just tell you?"

Zero froze.

Soma's brows furrowed. "Wait… why do you sound like you're about to lead a damn war?"

Z looked at them sharply.

"We stop these experiments until we understand more about the demon race. We are clearly guessing, and that is reckless."

Zero and Soma exchanged a look.

Something had changed in Z.

There was an aura about him now—a presence that neither of them had ever felt before.

Soma scratched his head. "Not to kill the moment, but you seriously sound like a commanding officer now. Like… an actual battlefield leader."

Z's gaze hardened.

"Are we clear?"

Zero and Soma straightened up instinctively.

"Yes, sir."

Soma blinked. "Wait. Why did I just say that?"

Z adjusted his glasses, the glint in his eyes sharp. "Good. I'll start gathering more magical energy so we can create more clones."

Zero, still nursing his injured arm, nodded. "Wait, before you go—can you change into Erwin's form now that you have both cards?"

Z's body shimmered into mist, shifting, stretching—growing.

When the mist cleared, a tall, commanding figure stood before them.

Erwin Smith.

Soma let out another whistle. "Damn. So, what should we call you now? Conan or Erwin?"

Erwin glanced at them calmly.

"I will take Erwin Smith."

Then, his body misted again—and once more, the small child detective stood in front of them.

Zero crossed his arms. "Are you gonna use Conan as your main form?"

Erwin adjusted his tiny tie, nodding. "It's comfortable. But in public, I will use Erwin's form."

Soma smirked. "I'm calling the FBI."

Erwin's eyes gleamed coldly.

"I am going to found the FBI."

Zero and Soma stared at each other.

Then—

They burst into laughter.

Soma wiped a tear from his eye. "AHAHA, no one's going to take orders from a tiny detective like you!"

Erwin's expression darkened.

Then he pointed toward the door.

"Both of you. Get back to work. Now."

Zero and Soma immediately snapped to attention.

"Yes, sir!"

Without another word, they marched back to the café floor.

Behind them, Erwin adjusted his glasses once more, a small smirk forming.

…

The humming energy of Café Leblanc was in full swing as Zero and Soma moved between tables, taking orders, serving meals, and brewing coffee.

The café was slowly building a reputation, with more regulars returning each day. However, as expected—Zero's presence was still an issue for some.

At one table, a group of human customers whispered among themselves, casting sideways glances at Zero.

One of them, a merchant-looking man, leaned toward Soma as he placed a plate down. "Didn't see him here yesterday. Is he the owner?"

Soma, without missing a beat, smiled. "Yep. That's the boss."

The man's expression twitched, barely concealing his disgust. The others at the table also shifted uncomfortably, some taking longer sips of their coffee, avoiding looking at Zero entirely.

But—

A few customers who had grown close to Soma during his live cooking events simply shrugged.

A burly dwarven blacksmith, who had been one of Soma's customers at the town square, grunted.

"If the food's good, I don't give a damn who runs the place."

Some of the more hesitant customers glanced at the blacksmith, their expressions shifting.

Zero noticed the reactions but kept his expression neutral as he went back to work.

Progress was slow, but progress was progress.

However—

The moment was interrupted when the front door swung open.

A group of uniformed city patrol officers walked in, their boots thudding heavily against the wooden floor.

The atmosphere in the café shifted immediately.

Customers fell silent, some watching cautiously while others subtly gathered their things, preparing to leave.

Zero and Soma both turned to see the three officers, their expressions hard as their eyes immediately locked onto Zero.

The lead officer, a broad-shouldered man with sharp features, sneered as he approached the counter.

"Didn't know demons ran cafés now. Guess they'll let anyone own a business these days."

Soma, wiping down the counter, smiled pleasantly. "Welcome to Leblanc. What can I get you?"

The officer ignored him, his gaze locked onto Zero like a predator watching prey.

"I asked you a question, demon. What's a filthy thing like you doing running a place in our city?"

The tension in the room spiked.

Several customers subtly pushed back their chairs, prepared for trouble.

Zero exhaled slowly, keeping his composure. "Serving coffee and food, same as any other establishment."

The officer clicked his tongue. "Hah. And here I thought the only thing your kind knew how to do was take orders from humans."

Soma's grip on the rag tightened.

Another officer snorted. "Bet the kitchen's crawling with filth. Maybe we should check if everything's up to standard."

Zero placed a hand on the counter, tilting his head slightly. "Are you implying that you have the authority to conduct inspections, officer? Because last I checked, that's not within your jurisdiction."

The officer's sneer deepened.

"Careful how you speak, demon. Wouldn't want to get into trouble, would we?"

Soma was about to say something when—

The café door swung open again.

A new figure stepped in, his sharp gaze immediately scanning the situation.

Detective Wolfe.

Dressed in his standard detective attire, Wolfe walked in with calculated steps, his presence immediately shifting the atmosphere.

The three patrol officers stiffened as soon as they saw him.

The lead officer, who had been taunting Zero just moments ago, flinched slightly when Wolfe's cold stare landed on him.

For a few seconds, Wolfe simply observed.

Then, he spoke—his voice calm, yet weighted with authority.

"Is there a problem here, Officer Gavrin?"

The lead officer—Officer Gavrin—immediately stuttered, his previous bravado crumbling slightly.

"D-Detective Wolfe. I was just—"

Wolfe tilted his head.

"Just what? Harassing a business owner? Standing around in a café while you're supposed to be guarding the perimeter?"

The other two officers stiffened further.

Gavrin clenched his jaw. "Sir, this demon—"

Wolfe's eyes narrowed.

"As your superior officer, I gave you an order to patrol the area. And instead, I find you loitering in a café, drinking coffee while there's a fugitive on the loose."

Gavrin opened his mouth, then closed it.

The two other officers looked at each other, clearly realizing they had screwed up.

Wolfe exhaled through his nose.

"Get out. Now."

Gavrin gritted his teeth but didn't argue.

With a quick salute, he and his men turned sharply and walked out of the café, their boots hitting the wooden floor in rushed steps.

The moment the door closed behind them, the tension in the room eased slightly.

Some customers let out quiet sighs of relief, while others continued watching cautiously.

Zero, who had remained calm throughout the entire exchange, turned to Wolfe with a small smirk.

"Detective Wolfe. Next time you eat here, it's on the house."

Wolfe's sharp gaze flicked toward him.

Then—

He scoffed.

"I don't take bribes."

Without another word, he turned and left the café.

Zero and Soma watched him go before looking at each other.

Soma let out a low whistle. "Hoo boy. That was almost bad."

Zero sighed. "Yeah. But one thing's for sure."

Soma tilted his head. "What's that?"

Zero grinned.

"That guy's definitely gonna be a regular."

Soma chuckled. "Oh, no doubt."

As they returned to work, the tension in the café gradually faded, but the impact of what had just happened lingered.

Things were escalating.

And soon, Zero would have to decide how to handle it.

…

The night air in Pinecrest was thick with the scent of rain-soaked pavement and city smoke as Detective Wolfe gripped the steering wheel of his car.

The faint hum of the engine blended with the distant noise of the city—the rhythmic beat of horse-drawn carriages, steam-powered trams, and late-night workers shuffling home.

Inside his vehicle, a small crystal transponder sat mounted on the dashboard, softly pulsing with a blue glow as it fed real-time information into the system.

A voice crackled through the enchanted device—one of the internal affairs dispatchers.

"Detective Wolfe, we have a confirmed sighting of the fugitive near the Merchant's District. Subject is a wanted smuggler—Name: Daven Kross. Half-elf, 5'10", wearing a dark brown coat. Last seen near the old foundry."

Wolfe's eyes flickered with recognition.

Daven Kross.

That piece of shit had been running illegal contraband for the past two years, bribing officers to look the other way. But now?

Now there were no more bribes.

No more corrupt cops covering for him.

Wolfe pulled the car into gear and slammed his foot on the accelerator.

The engine roared to life.

And the chase began.

The Merchant's District was still lively, even at this hour. Dimly lit streets stretched between rows of shops, warehouses, and trade stalls, some already closing for the night while others catered to late customers.

Wolfe's keen eyes scanned the sidewalks, looking for any movement that matched the description.

Then—

A flicker of movement.

On the left side of the street, slipping through an alleyway behind a closed bakery, a man in a dark brown coat moved quickly, glancing over his shoulder.

Daven Kross.

Wolfe's grip tightened on the wheel.

"Got you, asshole."

He reached for the transponder, clicking it on.

"Control, Detective Wolfe. Suspect spotted near Crest & Ember Street, moving north through the alleys. I'm engaging pursuit."

"Copy that, Detective. Backup en route. Be advised—suspect is armed and has a history of resisting arrest."

Wolfe didn't respond.

He was already on the move.

Daven moved fast, slipping through the narrow alleyways, vaulting over crates and barrels as he tried to disappear into the maze of side streets.

But Wolfe was faster.

The moment Daven crossed the next street—

Tires screeched.

Wolfe's car drifted into the alley entrance, blocking the smuggler's path just as he emerged.

Daven skidded to a stop, eyes wide.

For a split second, he hesitated.

Then—

He bolted in the opposite direction.

"Tch. Predictable." Wolfe muttered as he threw open the car door.

The detective sprinted after him, weaving through the cluttered streets, his boots pounding against the pavement.

Daven leapt over a stack of wooden crates, knocking one over in an attempt to slow Wolfe down.

But Wolfe barely broke stride.

He jumped over the debris effortlessly, closing the distance.

The smuggler then turned sharply, dashing into a narrow passageway between two buildings, thinking he could lose Wolfe in the tight corners.

Big mistake.

Wolfe anticipated it.

Instead of following him into the alley, he took the next street over, moving parallel to Daven's path—waiting for the next opening.

Then, just as the smuggler emerged from the other side—

Wolfe was already there.

Gun drawn.

"Stop. Now."

Daven skidded to a halt, panting, his hands hovering near his coat.

"You think I'm gonna let you take me in that easily?!"

Without hesitation, he reached inside his coat.

Wolfe fired.

The shot rang out, hitting the ground just inches from Daven's foot.

The smuggler froze.

"Try that again, and the next one won't miss." Wolfe's voice was calm. Unshaken. Absolute.

Daven slowly raised his hands, gritting his teeth.

"Tch. Fine."

The sound of sirens echoed through the streets as a patrol unit arrived.

Wolfe kept his gun trained on Daven, only lowering it when two uniformed officers rushed in to restrain the smuggler.

As they cuffed him, Daven spat on the ground. "The old force would've let me go. You know that, right?"

Wolfe stepped forward, looking him dead in the eye.

"The old force is gone."

Daven scowled.

"You think you can clean this whole system up? You think the nobles are just gonna sit back and let you? You're fighting a losing battle."

Wolfe's expression didn't change.

"Get him out of here."

The officers dragged Daven toward the patrol carriage, his protests fading into the distance.

Wolfe watched silently, then exhaled.

The old force was gone.

But he had a feeling the fight was only beginning.