Should our very own big adventure begin, we always see it as a giant explosion that blazes differently from everything we’ve ever seen.
It could be sparked by the murder of a loved one, the discovery of an ancient artifact, or the sudden approach of a bus hitting you into another world.
Rare are the beginnings of silence and peace where time seems to have stopped flowing for, but a few moments.
Comparatively to loud entries in a narrative, which are those we expect and prepare for, the discrete ones wish to surprise you in a new way.
They hit you in the back of the neck when you least expect it.
It all started in darkness with a single point of light floating in a peaceful void.
There were no colors except for the inky blackness that seemed to consume every possibility he created.
This pitiful point of light is our protagonist, and while he couldn’t remember information related to his identity, he could remember bits and scraps of common knowledge from his world.
He possessed a frame of what he had and was while alive. A precisely hollowed frame of particular knowledge.
This soul came from a Modern Era Technological World.
Comparing this world to others he knew of, from imagined fantasy worlds to dystopian sci-fi, its advantages would be its culture and technological advancement. They both reinforced each other to reach greater heights.
The downsides of such a specialization were multiple and evident.
If our protagonist had to point out one of these flaws, it would be a question they couldn’t answer even at the height he could remember they reached, especially considering his, now relevant, situation:
Technology couldn’t prove yet what happened after your death.
It couldn’t prove if other forces deemed supernatural existed.
He didn’t remember how he ended up here, in this immobilized state of death. The very last thing he remembered of his life was this white window on a black background.
It wasn’t a physical window per se, yet it still stood before him before everything turned to darkness.
[You died]
He…
He remembered his name was John, his last name unknown and now irrelevant considering he couldn’t remember anything about them. His tastes, his preferences, his first love, nothing remained.
A curious lack of panic invaded him as his intuition told him to wait for more information.
Considering his situation, he hoped it was his actual intuition and not just a command someone programmed into him like some sort of supernatural AI which, I guess, would then be called a golem…
Still, he had to ask himself if this was the famous isekai phenomenon that was so frequent in anime. He was in a soul-like state in the middle of nothingness, perhaps a cute goddess or a wise old man would bestow upon him supernatural powers to save a world from a primordial evil?
As various possibilities crossed his mind, time passed, and more points of light woke up, some bigger, some smaller, various colors were even depicted, representing the culmination of what they were while in the world of the living.
Some even changed their original form from flaming spheres to more humanlike shapes. Details couldn’t be seen, but their proficiency in morphing their form was impressive enough to John, a neophyte.
He tried for about 2 seconds before stopping himself, his knowledge of the situation severely missing to start messing with what currently was his body. He didn't want to blow up by accident just yet.
John, for a non-supernatural soul at least, was in the middle range of complexity. Considering the number of lights was still increasing and was about to reach a thousand, he told himself it wasn’t bad. His unusual senses could see his form and tell him that he was a gray-colored soul, which he didn't know the significance of.
Was it an alignment shart? A favorite color maybe? Perhaps it was just random or modifiable with the right flex of metaphorical soul muscles?
In the end, John observed that this all also implied that most of these souls were rather important people, having accomplished incredible feats in their domains. This fact could be seen through these achievements that reinforced the core of their very being, making up more imposing souls.
As a very large number of them finally woke up from their state of nothingness, filling a portion of the void with light, a change occurred in the environment they found themselves in.
Most would have screamed if they could, but souls aren’t exactly known to be talkative.
As such, the most a majority of the crowd could do was tremble and flicker in response to the sudden light in the sky that colored the nothingness.
As the light settled, turning the inky blackness around them into a whiter gray mist reminiscent of a brighter morning, a giant shadow appeared on the whiter canvas that became a sort of sky.
John’s first thought, after seeing the shadow that reminded him of Death itself, was about his computer history, which was rather sad considering his cause of death was erased from him.
This made him realize the terrible social implication of not having his search history erased but also that whoever chose which memories made the cut had considered that its potential erasure wasn’t important enough.
A very unfortunate and unintended conclusion to what was one of the main worries about his departure to the afterlife while alive.
...
His second thought was whether dying a second time to a giant death god as a soul counted as dying or dying squared.
Hell, they hadn’t answered the question of where people went after death, now he had to quickly find out where souls went after their second one or at least what to believe in.
Should he invent a religion on the spot?
Fortunately, his train of thoughts was interrupted before he started inventing his sacred texts as the shadow slowly took form.
On the giant’s figure stood out a completely white mask with blank features except for a singular red spot representing an eye. At least, it was placed where it would be if the being followed human anatomy, which wasn’t the most evident guess to make considering the pressure it emitted just standing before them was inhuman.
It was draped in a white robe. A combination of what John would have seen as a bad cosplay combination of a scientist’s coat and what Greek philosophers were often represented in. The only defining color other than the blinding white was a highlight of navy blue, here and there. Little could be seen of the individual behind the costume, every part of it draped, a hood covering the rest of its head and white gloves covering a human number of fingers.
As the figure finished materializing in the realm, the drawn red eye moved, as if alive and slowly inspected the crowd of souls.
The eye of Sauron briefly flashed in front of John’s eyes as he tried to stay focused on the present surreal situation instead of references.
A hidden smile could be seen behind the creature's eyes as a tool appeared in its hands from nowhere…
The long, spear-like object was then twirled at high speeds between its fingers before being stopped abruptly, hitting the ground hard enough to make the sound echo through the immaterial audience.
It was a microphone that appeared in the hands of the god.
It then spoke for the first time, breaking the silence that permeated the air for what felt like eons.
“WEEEEELLCOME TO THE GREATEST EXPERIMENT THIS MULTIVERSE HAS EVER SEEN!”
A booming voice echoed through the realm, opening a page that would last eternities for John.
