"No..thanks."
The silence that followed Sol's answer was heavy enough to crush bones.
The Void didn't speak. Her outstretched hand lingered between them, fingers curled slightly in invitation, the gesture now awkward and hanging in the air like an unanswered question. Then, slowly, she withdrew it.
She said at last, her voice deceptively calm.
"May I know. why?"
He didn't flinch when her eyes, those twin eclipses beneath her blindfold, narrowed at him.
"Spirits that could ruin the world."
The words echoed like thunder in Sol's head.
He was just a kid. A nobody. He wasn't a chosen warrior, a blessed hero, or some ancient guardian reincarnated to fulfill a prophecy.
He had no sword blessed by the stars. No hidden lineage. No divine blood in his veins.
All he had ever been was someone trying to get by, trying to survive in a world that never once bent to him.
And now?
He died, somehow ended up in a cosmic prison, learnt his body has decomposed, found out he was saved by some mysterious crystal that's apparently a divine jail key, and now…
Now he's being recruited by the prison itself to go hunt eldritch spirits with world-ending tendencies.
What was next? A cape and a theme song?
Sol rubbed his face slowly, fingers dragging down in disbelief."Yep. Totally normal day," he muttered under his breath.
It was laughable. Absurd.
He felt like laughing.
Instead, he just closed his eyes, letting the silence press down on him.
What could he do against creatures that once terrified even the gods? Some of these spirits had probably shattered empires before he was even born.
And now they were loose in the living world, growing stronger with every moment, hungry for hosts, for flesh, for chaos.
And she wanted him to stop them.
He barely knew how to throw a proper punch.
He couldn't even protect himself when it mattered most, couldn't stop his own death.
Couldn't hold onto his life. It had taken a cursed stone and sheer accident for him to still exist at all.
He wasn't a savior.
He was just… Sol.
He looked up at the woman, Void, whatever she was, who stared at him with the calm intensity of someone offering you a job you couldn't possibly refuse.
Except he was refusing.
Because this wasn't a job. It was a death sentence wearing a slightly poetic coat of paint.
'You want me to hunt ancient hell-escapees?'
he thought bitterly.
He was barely holding it together. He'd been panicking over the idea of being dead for the past ten minutes, and now he was supposed to chase down soul-eating monsters? Did she think he had backup stashed somewhere? A spare personality that was brave, strong, and maybe immune to getting killed?
He didn't even know how to fight. Not really. He knew how to duck, maybe how to run, and had once managed to knock out a drunk with a broken chair leg, but that hardly made him a contender for "Void's Chosen Champion of the Year."
He was a scared, confused, half-dead guy with abandonment issues and a shiny rock.
Hardly elite hunting material.
And even if he was strong, even if he could take on one or two of those rogue spirits, why should he?
Why should he do this? For her?
No offense, but she was literally a prison. A talking, omniscient prison. What was he supposed to say?
'Yes ma'am, happy to risk soul annihilation for a cause I didn't sign up for, right after decomposing in a ditch.'
He sighed, loud and long, and ran a hand through his hair, or what passed for hair in this strange half-existence he was in.
"I mean… yeah, I want to live."
he muttered to himself. "But not as someone else's tool."
Not as a slave. Not even to something as ancient and cosmic as her.
He could feel it now, this stubborn, aching knot in his chest. A part of him that wasn't afraid, not really. Not of the danger, not of the monsters.But of becoming something used. Something owned.
He was tired of people trying to control him. The demon, the lords, even fate, it had always felt like his life belonged to someone else.
Not anymore.
If he was going to live, it had to be his life.
And if Void didn't like that?
Well, she could find another corpse with a shiny rock.
Sol stared into the steaming tea that sat untouched before him.
He wanted to live. That much was true. Despite the confusion, the strangeness of everything around him, there was still something deep inside him that clung to life.
Not the kind of life written in stories or sung in temples, but real life. The messy kind. The one where you don't have answers, where things don't always make sense, but you keep going anyway.
But what was the point of returning if it meant being a tool?
"I'm not some hero. I didn't die to save the world, and I sure as hell didn't come back to clean up the gods' mess."
Void didn't seem offended by his refusal. If anything, she looked, entertained.
She tilted her head, the corner of her lips twitching in amusement. The black blindfold still obscured her eyes, but somehow Sol could feel her gaze sharpening, like someone peering deeper into his soul than he'd ever allowed.
She walked slowly around the table, hands clasped behind her back, as if pondering a particularly fascinating painting in a gallery.
"I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. You're not exactly the obedient type, are you?"
Sol just shrugged. "Never really had the luxury."
A chuckle escaped her lips. "I noticed."
She paused beside him now, her presence unsettlingly calm, like still water just before a storm.
"You mistake me, Sol," she continued. "I'm not asking for a servant. I don't need a slave. I need a partner."
Sol arched an eyebrow. "Partner? Is that what we're calling cosmic conscription now?"
Void laughed. A real, melodic laugh, like a sound she hadn't made in centuries. It faded slowly, replaced by a thoughtful hum.
"Fair enough. My first offer was crude. Too... simple. Let me make another."
She returned to her chair and sat down with the grace of someone who had seen empires rise and fall, then leaned forward just slightly.
"This isn't about saving the world, not really. The world is always breaking. It will keep doing that, with or without you and me."
That silenced Sol for a second.
She went on, "The truth is, these spirits... they don't just want chaos. Some of them are looking for vessels. People to inhabit. People to twist. They will slip into positions of power, creep into the cracks of weak minds, and before anyone knows it, wars will start. Cities will fall. And unlike you, most humans don't have the option to say no."
Sol looked down at his hands.
Still there. Still solid. Still not his.
"But why me?" he asked, still unsure.
"I'm not special. I don't even know how I'm here, let alone how to fight goddamn ancient horrors."
Void tilted her head. "You're still asking the wrong question."
She snapped her fingers—and suddenly the garden flickered. The air warped. For a heartbeat, Sol saw not flowers and peace, but flashes of the horrors that had escaped: souls without form, pure malice wearing shapes that barely clung to human structure. Wraiths slithering through cities, whispering into ears of kings and beggars alike.
Then gone.
The garden was quiet again.
"You think I wanted this? You think I sat here plotting for some moody kid with a weird soul trait to come strolling in, dragging a void key behind him like a stray cat?"
She looked at him again, voice lower now. Honest.
"I don't have a choice, Sol."
Her tone lost all of its theatrical edge. No grand speeches, no mysterious riddles, just truth.
"You're the only one who slipped through. The only soul still intact. The only one holding a key. Everyone else is either shattered, insane, or too dangerous to trust."
She sighed.
"If I had options, believe me, I'd take them. But right now… it's you or nothing."
"Still think you're just a kid with a shiny rock?" she asked softly.
Sol didn't answer.
Void leaned in. "You don't have to hunt them all. Not now. Not alone. I can help you. Not just with power, but knowledge. Guidance. I know what they are. I know where they go. I know what they fear."
She let that linger.
"And in return?" Sol asked warily.
Void's tone softened. "In return, I offer a bond. Not chains. Not orders. You are free to refuse any task. You choose what spirits to confront. And when this is over, if you still want out, I will release you from everything. You can live a full life, untethered."
Sol frowned. "And if I say no again?"
Void smiled faintly. "Then I erase your presence from the living world. No one will ever know you existed. Not even the boy who now wears your old name."
That made his breath catch.
"You'll return to the Void. Not as a prisoner," she added gently. "Just... as silence."
Sol stared at her. At the chair. The garden. His hands.
This time, he didn't speak right away.
And Void said, "I am not trying to control you, Sol. I'm offering you a choice. Perhaps the first real one you've ever had."
"Take it," she said, "or leave it, entirely up to you."
Sol sat in silence, chewing on the weight of it all. The more he tried to think his way out of this, the clearer it became: there was no out.
The world didn't exactly pause for existential crises.
"I don't like this," he muttered finally.
"I don't like being backed into corners. I don't like being used. And I sure as hell don't like being told the fate of the world depends on me."
He looked up, meeting her gaze. "And if I walk away from this, what am I even walking into? I can't go back. I don't have a life to return to. I'm stuck in a body that doesn't belong to me, in a world that moved on without me."
He gave a weak laugh. "So yeah. I'll do it. Not because I'm the hero you were hoping for, I'm not even close, but because, like you said, there's no other choice. "
He extended his hand halfway, then hesitated. "But if I'm doing this, I want one thing clear: I'm not your pawn. Not some errand boy for a cosmic prison."
He stared at her, firm now. "I'll hunt your spirits. I'll do the job. But after that… I walk. No tricks. No chains."
His voice was steady. "I may not have much, but whatever I am, whatever's left, it's still mine."
He held out his hand fully.
"Deal?"