"Two paths," Seraphina-7 said, her golden eyes shifting from data streams to something approaching warmth. "Natural reincarnation or the Game. Both are legitimate choices."
Marcus gripped the counter edge. The surface felt solid enough, but everything else defied logic.
"What happens to Emma? Is she okay?"
"Your sister survived with minor injuries. Broken wrist, some bruising. She's currently at Massachusetts General being treated for shock."
The angel's expression softened slightly. "Her physical welfare is secure."
Relief flooded through him, followed immediately by dread. "Foster care?"
"The state will assign guardianship within seventy-two hours."
Strangers. Emma would go to strangers who wouldn't understand her midnight panic attacks or the way she tested boundaries when she felt abandoned.
She'd bounce between homes until she aged out at eighteen, assuming she didn't run away first.
"Explain the choices," Marcus said.
Seraphina touched something on her workstation. A holographic display materialized between them—two branching paths rendered in soft light.
"Natural reincarnation," she said, highlighting the left path. "Complete memory erasure followed by rebirth into a random life. You experience normal childhood development with no knowledge of your previous existence.
Death, for all practical purposes, followed by a fresh start with no burdens."
The right path pulsed brighter. "The Game. You retain full consciousness and memories while living sequential lives across different worlds and time periods.
Each life presents specific challenges and objectives. Success earns reincarnation points you can spend on advantages for future lives."
Marcus studied the display. "What's the catch?"
"The Game is dangerous. Failure results in true death—no reincarnation, natural or otherwise.
Success requires intelligence, adaptability, and moral flexibility. Many participants accumulate debts they spend eternity trying to repay."
"How many people choose the Game?"
"Approximately eight percent of processed souls."
"Success rate?"
Seraphina hesitated. "Sixty-seven percent survive their first scenario. Long-term success rates are... variable."
Marcus ran probability calculations. Even assuming he fell into the top performance percentile, the Game offered maybe fifty-fifty odds of surviving long enough to accumulate significant power.
Natural reincarnation guaranteed peace, but offered zero chance of helping Emma.
"If I succeed in the Game," he said, "could I eventually affect the living world? Help someone still alive?"
"Theoretically, yes. Advanced players sometimes purchase interventions, though the costs are..." She paused. "Substantial."
"Define substantial."
"The type of intervention you're considering would require contracting with a Time God. Millions of God Points.
Most players never earn more than a few dozen GP in their entire existence."
The numbers painted a bleak picture, but Marcus had built optimization algorithms from worse starting conditions. "What would I need to do?"
"Excel consistently across multiple scenarios. Earn reincarnation points through objective completion and bonus achievements.
Convert RP to God Points at exchange rates that fluctuate based on divine market conditions." She leaned forward slightly. "Mr. Chen, the odds of accumulating enough resources for temporal intervention are microscopically small."
"But not zero."
"Not zero, no."
Marcus stared at the holographic paths. Natural reincarnation offered guaranteed peace—no more guilt about Emma, no more responsibility for anyone's welfare. Just oblivion followed by a clean slate.
The Game offered a theoretical chance to save Emma, wrapped in astronomical odds and lethal consequences.
"Tell me about the first scenario."
"Tutorial level. Historical Earth setting with clear objectives and limited supernatural elements. Most new players find it manageable if they apply themselves."
"Historical when?"
"1906 San Francisco earthquake. Your mission involves saving specific individuals during the disaster while demonstrating basic competency in crisis management."
Marcus had read about the earthquake in a geology elective. Massive destruction, fires, thousands dead.
A perfect testing ground for someone willing to risk everything for people they cared about.
"If I die in the tutorial—"
"True death. No appeals, no second chances."
He closed his eyes, seeing Emma's face as she'd looked up from her phone in that final second before the Honda Civic changed everything.
Twelve years old, brilliant, stubborn, completely unprepared for a world that would categorize her as another foster system statistic.
The math was brutal. Maybe one in a million chance of earning enough power to help her.
Ninety-nine point nine nine nine percent probability of dying permanently in scenarios designed to eliminate the weak.
But one in a million wasn't zero.
"I need guarantees about Emma's immediate safety," Marcus said. "Placement with a good family, educational support, therapy for the trauma."
"I cannot alter living world events directly," Seraphina said. "But I can ensure certain... administrative oversights that might benefit her case file review."
Not a promise. A hint that Emma might get lucky with her placement if Marcus chose the path that benefited the administrative system.
"The Game," he said.
Something flickered across Seraphina's features. Surprise? Respect?
"Are you certain? Natural reincarnation offers genuine peace—"
"I'm certain."
She touched her workstation. New displays appeared—character sheets, scenario parameters, objective lists.
"Tutorial scenario begins immediately upon contract acceptance. You'll inhabit the body of a twenty-four-year-old male with identity and background appropriate to 1906 San Francisco.
Mission briefing will appear as intuitive knowledge once insertion completes."
"What name?"
"Michael Brennan. Irish immigrant, construction worker, no family ties to complicate your mission."
Marcus nodded. Clean identity, appropriate skills for disaster response, no emotional baggage from inherited relationships.
"Final question. If I somehow succeed at this impossible goal—if I accumulate enough power to hire a Time God—will I still be me?"
Seraphina met his eyes directly. "That depends entirely on what choices you make along the way, Mr. Chen. The Game has a tendency to change people."
She extended her hand. "Contract acceptance requires physical contact."
Marcus reached across the counter. Her skin felt warm, more human than her appearance suggested.
"Welcome to the Game."
The world dissolved.