Death and Life

My name is Hana. A humble librarian, I lived thirty-three years alone—no family, no friends, no one to grieve my absence when the time came.

I was working, just like any other day, when it happened. The earth trembled beneath me. A deafening roar split the air as the city around me cracked and crumbled. Buildings collapsed, their shattered pieces raining down like deadly confetti. The ground split open, a yawning abyss, swallowing everything in its path. And then… fire. So much fire. It spread like a living thing, devouring everything in its wake, a hunger I couldn’t escape. I tried to run, but there was nowhere to go. The streets were blocked, the air thick with choking smoke. My lungs burned, filling with the sting of ash and ember. The flames crept toward me, inevitable, relentless. I screamed, but no sound came. It didn’t matter. My flesh, my will—they were nothing to the fire. I was consumed.

The next thing I remember is… nothing. Darkness. I floated in an endless void of pure blackness, weightless and silent. I couldn’t move, couldn’t see, couldn’t feel. Time didn’t exist here. Was it minutes? Hours? Eternities? I had no way of knowing. Was I dead? Had I survived, only to be trapped in some hollow existence, my broken body lost in a void with no one to mourn me?

The more I thought about it, the more my mind began to spiral. My body felt… heavy. Like something was pressing down on me, holding me in place. I strained against it, and then—something changed. I could move. The sensation was subtle at first, but it was there. After what felt like an eternity of numbness, the simple act of movement was a strange comfort.

I shifted again, feeling the weight of my body, the stiffness in my limbs. But something was wrong. I could no longer feel the soft bed I had imagined I’d been lying on. Where was I? What was happening?

I jerked again, this time with more urgency, more desperation. And then—crack. A sharp, sudden sound. Something… had broken.

My body itched. Not just an ordinary itch. It was as if my skin was alive, demanding something from me. It felt like… instinct. My muscles tensed as I struggled against whatever held me, each movement causing the sensation to intensify. I had to break free. Had to escape.

The pressure built until I couldn’t take it anymore. I swung harder, faster, until—

CRACK—CRACK—

C-

And then, I was free. I gasped. Air. Real, fresh air. I could breathe again, move again. But something was wrong. My body felt alien, foreign. My arms—there were four of them. Four. When had that happened?

I blinked, trying to clear my vision, but it was distorted, overwhelming. My senses were heightened, but everything felt… off. I could see more, but differently. The world around me was both clearer and more confusing. What was going on? This… this couldn’t be real. Was I still dreaming? Had I died and ended up in some twisted nightmare?

I lay there, trying to make sense of it all. Time passed—how much, I couldn’t say. My body, weak and trembling, felt the gnawing hunger. That gnawing… I hadn’t felt it in what felt like forever. It was real. This was real. I wasn’t dreaming.

Could it be? Could this be the so-called “Isekai” everyone talked about? The fantasy world where people are reincarnated with powers? I had no memory of anything before. No memories of a family, no past, no real connection. But now, here I was.

I gritted my teeth. If I was in an Isekai, I had to have some kind of power, right? That’s what the stories said. The protagonist always had something extraordinary, something hidden, something stolen. But how would I know what I had?

“Status?”

A flicker of hope, a spark of curiosity, led me to speak. The words barely left my lips before the screen appeared before my eyes.

Weeeell... that's something to start with, I guess?

Baeon

This is a story that I decided to create and share with the world, if it has mistakes or isn't very good have patience with me, it's my first story and English isn't my first language.