BOOM!
The last thing Zarek remembered was the shrill crack of his phone detonating in his hands while he was reading his favorite novel.
A blinding eruption of white fire. The stench of charred flesh clogging his nostrils. The burning bite of pain that barely had time to register before everything was swallowed in silence.
Then—
…nothing.
Now, he floated.
Yeah. Floated.
No body. No trembling hands to clutch at wounds. No skin to itch or blood to boil. Only a faint, wavering glow—his essence, maybe?—a dim flame of yellow light suspended in an ocean of endless black. The kind of black that devoured sight, thought, and even the idea of time.
"Am I dead?"
The thought brushed across his mind, and though it felt absurd to ask, something deep inside him whispered the answer. He wasn't just dead—he was completely destroyed, stripped down to whatever passed for a soul.
"Is this my soul form?"
The words echoed faintly, as though the abyss itself tossed them back to him.
Most people would've been clawing at the void, shrieking in terror, begging for another chance at life. But Zarek? Zarek just floated, strangely calm. A sense of déjà vu hummed in him, as though he'd gone through this very scene a thousand times before.
And in a way, he had.
Countless novels he'd devoured began like this—souls drifting in the void, reincarnations waiting to be triggered, golden fingers of fate reaching out from the dark. Even the one he'd been reading just before his phone exploded had opened with a near-identical scene.
What was it called again…?
Ah. Right.Beyond Good and Evil.
A world where warriors grew stronger through their chosen classes, carving power from the monsters that flooded in from beyond.
Cliché as hell. But then again, that's just how these stories always went.
Time continued to pass, but the moment that he was waiting for didn't come. No mysterious god came to greet him, neither did the annoying voice of the system sound in his ears.
Slowly, with passing time, the excitement faded, replaced by creeping dread. The darkness around him seemed to come to life, eating away at the glow of his soul form.
Zarek looked down to look at his hands, but there was nothing except a flickering ball of light which looked as if it would be extinguished at any moment.
As if the glow was the only thing keeping him warm, as it dimmed, Zarek felt a seeping chill down to his very soul.
Slowly, an instinctive feeling took root in his heart. He knew if the situation continued like this, he would definitely die again, this time permanently.
With passing time, his paranoia grew, but no solution seemed clear in sight. Without him realizing it, the once bright glow was gone, leaving nothing but a dim ember behind.
Zarek's consciousness was almost completely faded, his vision blurry. Memories of his life started to flash before him.
One moment after another, watching the scenes, a strong feeling welled up in his heart—his life was nothing more than a wasted life.
Half of his life was wasted playing games and the other half chasing meaningless pursuits.
If there was someone else in Zarek's shoes, they might have felt anger, regret, or even resentment. But Zarek felt nothing. Just as the ball of light was about to be extinguished, a single thought appeared in his head.
This was the ending his meaningless life deserved.
Even if he was given another chance, he would have wasted it again chasing instant gratification.
So this is how it ends…
Zarek froze, his formless body slowly merging with the endless darkness around him.
Then, in barely a few moments, there was nothing—only the endless darkness that seemed to stretch till infinity.
It was then the void once again shook, and once more a glowing ball of light appeared in the darkness, just a few hundred meters away from the position where Zarek once existed.
However, compared to Zarek, this ball of light looked more lively, and it was easy to distinguish its facial features. It was a young man with a sharp jawline. Just like Zarek, the young man also thought he was about to be transmigrated.
Excited, he waited for the arrival of the god.
Where are you, god? The young man thought, looking around excitedly. The stretching darkness seemed to have no effect on him.
But before the god could arrive, the young man felt a strange force wrapping around his body tightly, pulling him toward the position where Zarek had existed moments ago.
The strange situation didn't affect the young man at all. Instead, the smile on the young man's face widened even more.
However, the next moment the young man's face darkened. He felt pain so strong that his conscience was directly crushed to nothingness, then the man's soul disappeared as if devoured by something.
In this fashion, the cycle continued. One after the other, several more balls of light appeared, each brighter than Zarek's would appear, then the same suction would take them to Zarek's position before disappearing as if Zarek was devouring them.
This cycle repeated itself hundreds, thousands, then millions of times. Meanwhile, the surrounding region remained completely unaffected.
Then one day, out of nowhere—boom! A loud explosion sounded, sending ripples through the endless space as if reality itself was breaking.
The surrounding space started to fold like a piece of cloth. In the blink of an eye, all of the darkness had disappeared, leaving nothing but a piece of glowing soul behind. Strangely, it looked eerily similar to the Zarek from before, albeit there was one difference—a strange cube-shaped mark had appeared on his forehead, slowly rotating.
Where am I? Zarek thought while examining his surroundings. He was again in an endless space; however, unlike the last time with its frightening darkness, this time it felt more inviting. Zarek felt as if he was once again back in his mother's embrace.
Just as he was about to get lost in his own train of thought—
[Hmm. This is… problematic.]
The voice rippled through the void, neither loud nor soft, neither cruel nor gentle. It simply was—a resonance that carried with it the weight of inevitability.
"This one wasn't meant to die. Not yet. Not this way."
Zarek jolted, his flickering form twisting in alarm. He looked around desperately, but there was nothing. Only the infinite black, stretching on forever.
Then, at the very edge of his vision, something moved.
A shape.
Vast. Humanoid, but wrong. Its proportions were flawless to the point of unease, its face carved with a symmetry that no human could ever possess. Too perfect. Too smooth. And there, stretched across its lips, a faint smile that seemed to mock the concept of emotion itself.
Hiss!
The sound crawled through the void like venom. One glance at the figure sent a shiver racing through Zarek's very essence, a chill that reminded him that even without a body, terror could still exist.
The shape, however, paid him no mind. Its voice flowed again, casual yet absolute:
[Well then… the compensation must be given.]
Compensation.
That single word cracked open something inside Zarek. The fear clutching his soul instantly faltered, swept away by a rush of greedy anticipation.
"Compensation! Doesn't he want to compensate me?"
The thought burned brightly in his mind, echoing like a prayer.
And though Zarek didn't notice, the figure's perfect smile curved just a little sharper, as though savoring the amusement of watching him cling to such hope.
Then, without warning, its gaze drifted away from Zarek—turning toward the void as though something else were there.
Zarek blinked, bewildered. The abyss shifted.
And then—
Another light flickered into being. Brighter. Steadier.
From the glow stepped a figure—no shapeless blur, but a man. A handsome young man with golden hair, sharp features, and eyes the color of a clear summer sky. His modern clothes fit cleanly, without a wrinkle, radiating the quiet confidence of someone who had never stumbled in life.
Zarek froze. His mind stuttered.
Because the man looked just like him.
Not the Zarek who had died in greasy, torn clothes, slouched in a chair with a phone in hand. No. This was Zarek as he was meant to be—polished, successful, the kind of version you saw on the cover of glossy magazines.
Zarek's flickering soul shuddered as the thought clawed its way into his mind:
"…That's me? No. That's who I should have been."
Zarek watched in silence as the blonde man's form solidified in the void. The man gasped, sharp breaths escaping as his eyes darted wildly across the endless dark.
"W-Where am I?!"
The shape drifted closer, vast and unhurried. Its voice pressed down like a truth carved into the marrow of reality:
[Young one, you died because of a mistake on my part. I can compensate you for it.]
The words struck the blonde like a hammer. His lips moved, numb, as though his mind had short-circuited.
"Died… because of your mistake… and you can compensate me…"
He repeated the phrase, dazed, like a broken machine. But then—clarity returned, sharp and quick. His eyes lit with a hunger that Zarek recognized all too well.
"How?"
The shape didn't hesitate. It was almost as if it had been waiting for that exact word.
[You shall be transmigrated into your favorite novel—Beyond Good and Evil.]
The blonde blinked. Once. Twice. Then his jaw dropped.
"Wait, seriously? Do I get a system, a dragon girl, and a cheat, and also that 9-inch… cough?"
His voice cracked with disbelief, giddy hope tripping over every word.
From the sidelines, Zarek's flickering soul shivered. A sour heat twisted inside him, a hollow ache spreading through the fragile glow of his essence.
Wait. This… this isn't right.
This isn't how the script is supposed to go!
The truth clamped down on him like chains. He was the one who'd died, the one who had been reading that exact novel when the explosion consumed him. Compensation should have been his! Not this stranger's!
A storm of emotions battered him—anger sharp as knives, envy gnawing like acid, helplessness drowning him as the void itself seemed to mock his silence.
The blonde, meanwhile, had steadied himself. His breathing slowed, excitement carefully folded into a mask of calm. Only then did his gaze drift—and fall upon Zarek.
He stiffened. His finger shot out, trembling.
"Wh-what is that? That flickering orb?"
Zarek's soul convulsed. For the first time, he was seen. His fragile light wavered, desperate, hopeful.
But then the shape turned. Its too-perfect face tilted, and a smile—thin, sharp, almost indulgent—etched itself across its lips.
[That?]
The voice carried no hesitation. Only dismissal.
[Just a good-for-nothing extra, not worth your attention.]
The words sliced deeper than any blade, hurting more than they should have.
Zarek's light trembled violently, as though the void itself had spat him out and declared him meaningless.