Chapter 2: The Deal
Shiro's eyes snapped open—only to be swallowed by shadows. Darkness pressed in from all sides, a void tearing at the edges of reality itself.
Before him, a figure materialized—tall, cloaked in black, with eyes like cold embers burning through the gloom.
"Shiro," the figure's voice cut through the silence, low and menacing, "How is my favorite sla—, disciple today?"
Shiro's lips barely moved. His voice was hollow, drained of hope. "Where… am I?"
"This is my domain," the figure replied with a chilling chuckle, "The place where debts are collected and destinies are rewritten."
Shiro frowned, confusion mixing with dread. "Who… are you? And what happened to that shadow that was chasing me?"
The figure smiled—if such a thing could be called a smile—a twisted curl of sarcasm and pain. "Don't worry about the shadow. That was a mere whisper of what's to come. I'm your friend… your master. Surely you remember?"
Shiro's brow furrowed deeper. "No…"
The figure stepped closer, shadows twisting around its form like living smoke.
"You truly don't remember… how disappointing."
Shiro's throat tightened. "I don't know what you want from me."
The God of Death's voice dropped lower, almost a whisper that echoed in the void.
"I want what was promised. Your memories. Your pain. Your very essence. Every time you forget, I feast."
Shiro's eyes flickered with a faint spark of something—fear? Anger? "Why? What do you gain?"
"Power. Control. The currency of this realm. Your memories fuel me. The more you lose, the stronger I become."
A chill crawled over Shiro's skin. "And the deal? What did I agree to?"
The figure's grin widened, cruel and knowing.
"You chose to barter your soul for a second chance—a blank slate to escape your sins. But nothing is free in my domain. Each memory devoured tightens my grip."
Shiro's hands clenched, voice hardening.
"Then I'll take back what's mine. I'll be stronger than you."
The God of Death laughed, cold and hollow.
"Ah, the flame of defiance. Precious, but fragile. Remember, Shiro… in this game, you are my pawn, my prize, and my prison."
The void seemed to pulse with the weight of those words as the figure began to fade into shadow.
But then, lingering just a moment longer, the God of Death chuckled.
"It's not like you'll remember this conversation anyway," he hissed with a sinister grin. "I'm taking it all."
A dark, shadow-like hand surged forward, seizing Shiro by the skull. His eyes widened in agony as his life essence was wrenched away. His body convulsed—then fell limp, sinking once more into a deep, suffocating sleep.
Much time passed.
A voice echoed in the dark, distant and unclear:
"How long will this take…"
Shiro stumbled through the nothingness, following it without knowing why.
"Wake up, idiot."
With a sharp gasp, Shiro jolted upright, coughing and sucking in sweet air. Grass brushed against his skin. A gentle breeze carried the scent of flowers.
He was lying on a hill overlooking a breathtaking landscape—a rolling expanse of green dotted with forests and lakes, unlike anything he'd ever seen.
"Where… am I? Who—"
"Heh heh heh…"
A laugh. Familiar. Yet distant.
Shiro's head snapped around. "WHO ARE YOU? WHY AM I HEARING VOICES?!"
"Calm down, idiot," the voice replied casually. "My name's Hamiel. I'm your guardian angel. I'm here to set you off on your journey. You've been sent to this world to defeat the Demon Lord, oh brave hero."
Shiro blinked. His expression slowly shifted—first to confusion, then to a wide-eyed grin.
"Another world?! Wow! This is gonna be amazing, but wait… you said another world—wha…"
A sharp pain lanced through his skull. Images tried to surface—faces, blood, shadowy claws—but slipped away like water through fingers.
He winced, clutching his head. Then the memories were gone. Whatever he'd almost remembered was lost.
Shiro stood there, still rubbing the side of his head as the pain faded, his breath coming out in short, shaky bursts.
Hamiel floated a few feet off the ground, arms crossed and a sly grin on his face. His wings flickered with faint light.
"Anyway…" Hamiel said, with a teasing sigh, "I suppose I'll have to explain everything—about this land, this world, and why you're really here."
Shiro blinked up at him, mouth slightly open.
Hamiel gave him a lazy wave.
"But we'll save all that for later. Rest up, hero. You're going to need it."
Shiro didn't respond. He just stood there, staring at this so-called guardian angel, a thousand questions burning in the back of his mind—questions he wasn't even sure he wanted the answers to.
The wind rustled through the grass, carrying the scent of something sweet and foreign.
For now, that's enough.