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Darkness.
Not the gentle fade of sleep, nor the merciful oblivion of unconsciousness. This was a void beyond absence—a blackness so total it pressed against my skin like a physical weight, cold and suffocating, as if I'd been submerged in ink thick enough to drown in. I tried to open my eyes, but how could I be sure they were closed? There was no difference. No light. No shadow. Not even the phantom shapes that dance behind eyelids in the deepest night. Just an endless, hungry nothing.
I raised a hand—or thought I did. Impossible to tell. My fingers might as well have been severed. No sensation. No warmth. No *self*.
*"Where... what is this?"*
My voice vanished the moment it left my lips. No echo. No resonance. The words were swallowed whole, as if the darkness were a living thing, feeding on sound.
Then—
A voice.
Not loud. Not even a whisper. And yet it *shook* the void, vibrating through my bones like the first note of a funeral bell. Ancient. Immeasurable. It didn't speak *into* the silence—it *unmade* the silence, replacing it with something older than language.
*"You really think that life is meaningless?"*
Every hair on my body stood rigid. My lungs locked. That voice—it wasn't human. Wasn't *mortal*. It carried the weight of collapsing stars, the heat of primordial fire, the depth of oceans that had never known sunlight. It was the voice of something that had existed before time had a name.
I whirled, instinct screaming at me to face the threat, but there was nothing to face. Just the black. Just the void.
*"Who said that?"* My own voice sounded pitiful now, a child's whimper in a cathedral. *"Who's there? What the hell did you do to me?!"*
No answer.
Only more words, each one a hammerblow:
*"Adam Sainz. You are here for the judgment of God."*
I blinked. Laughed. A raw, jagged sound that tore from my throat like broken glass.
*"What the fuck? Are you serious right now? Judgment? Me?"*
*"Watch your words, young boy."* The voice turned glacial, colder than the space between galaxies. *"Or face the consequences."*
I spread my arms, a mockery of surrender. *"Come on! I'm already dead, right? What're you gonna do? Throw me in Hell again?"*
The void *shifted*.
Light—real, searing, *impossible* light—split the darkness like a blade. Not the gentle glow of a lamp or the diffuse warmth of the sun. This was light as *violence*, light as *revelation*, carving through the black with the fury of a supernova. And within it—
A figure.
Tall. Radiant. Terrifying.
Not glowing. *Burning*.
Every contour of its form was a wound in reality, as if the universe couldn't bear to look upon it directly. Wings stretched behind it—not feathers, but *galaxies*, swirling constellations woven into the shape of wings, nebulae bleeding into the void like ink in water. Its face was beauty and terror fused: flawless and pitiless, the face of something that had never known doubt, never known fear.
An angel.
Not the chubby cherubs of Renaissance paintings. Not the androgynous figures of Sunday school flannel boards. This was a being of *judgment*, of *fire*, of *swords*.
My knees gave out. I collapsed, my body folding like paper, my breath coming in shallow, panicked gasps. The weight of its presence crushed me, pressed me into the nothingness beneath me. I wanted to look away. Couldn't.
The angel spoke, and its voice was law:
*"Indeed, you are truly dead. But here, the truth is this—not all souls find peace. Not all reach Heaven or fall into Hell. Some,"* it stepped closer, the light dimming just enough to let me breathe, *"like yours... remain in between. Until judgment is passed."*
I swallowed. My throat was sandpaper. *"Which is...?"*
*"Adam Sainz. Your judgment is to choose a world where you will fulfill a duty."*
I blinked. *"Wait, wait—any world? Like, fantasy? Fiction? You serious? What do you mean 'duty'?"*
*"Any world,"* the angel confirmed, unmoved. *"By your choice. As for your duty... you will learn it later. However, you are both gifted and punished. You are bound to a system—one that will determine daily and obligatory tasks. It will offer rewards. It will deliver punishment."*
I barked a laugh, sharp and disbelieving. *"So let me get this straight—I'm dead, in a void, talking to flaming voices and nuclear angels, and you want me to just agree to go on some cosmic internship through fictional realities with a system watching me like Big Brother?!"*
*"True,"* the angel replied, utterly indifferent to my hysteria. *"And if you do not accept, you will suffer the death of every human being—each time a soul dies, you will feel it."*
The air—if there was air—stilled. The weight of the threat settled over me, a yoke of unimaginable torment. Every death. Every scream. Every last gasp of every last human, forever.
I laughed again, but it was hollow now. Bitter. *"Alright. Nothing to lose. I'm dead already, yeah? So sure—let's go full absurdity. But I'm choosing my journey. Send me to Middle-earth. But before that... drop me somewhere wild. Let me have more adventure first. Heh."*
The first voice returned, quieter now, almost thoughtful:
*"Alright, Adam. But understand this—each time you grow stronger, a Greek god you will face. They are your enemies. They have grown arrogant, bloated with worship. I will give you judgment. I will give you logic. Your decisions will shape not just your fate, but the fate of entire realms."*
Then—
The void *shattered*.
Lightning cracks of brilliance split the darkness, spiderwebbing through the black like fractured glass. Heat—unbearable, purifying heat—erupted from the cracks, searing through my spine, my limbs, my *soul*. I screamed. Or tried to. My voice was lost in the inferno.
The last thing I heard was the voice, fading:
*"Your last request is l..."*
Then—
Nothing.
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[ End of Chapter. ]
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