Chapter 3 – New World
Darkness.
Not the ordinary kind, where one might still make out the faintest outline of their hand if they squinted hard enough. This was different—something deeper, denser, as if the very concept of light had never existed. Jack drifted in it, swallowed whole.
There was no horizon, no sense of distance or direction. Even the basic awareness of his body seemed to dissolve into the abyss. He tried to lift an arm, tried to flex a finger, but he could not tell if anything actually moved. His mind floated in a void where sensation itself felt suspended.
He was numb.
Restless thoughts gnawed at the stillness, circling like vultures. Anxiety pricked at the edge of his consciousness. He remembered. And he remembered very well.
'I died.'
The memory was crisp. His chest tightened as the realization anchored him in the nothingness. 'So where the hell am I?'
He had never given much thought to what came after death. The idea of an afterlife always seemed too romantic—something people invented to soothe themselves against the inevitability of the grave. Heaven, hell, reincarnation… to Jack, those were just stories desperate souls told themselves so their suffering might feel less meaningless.
But now, suspended in this endless dark, he wondered if this was it. Not heaven. Not hell. Just oblivion.
A dry smirk tugged at his lips—or would have, if he still had a mouth. 'Fitting, I suppose. Total darkness. I always knew heaven wasn't made for me.'
Eternal nothingness should have been terrifying. And perhaps it was. But Jack had long ago made peace with death. When he faced Z, there hadn't been a shred of fear in him. To him, death was nothing more than another station in the long journey of existence. Everyone arrived there eventually.
Still… he hoped. 'He'd better keep his word,' Jack muttered inwardly, thinking of Z. 'Or I swear I'll haunt him in his sleep.'
He tried to cross his arms, to assume his usual stubborn posture, but whether the gesture happened or not, he couldn't say. Time bled away, meaningless here. What felt like hours, or perhaps days, or even weeks, passed there. Jack had no sense of time, or if the time was even long enough.
However, he felt it... That something was happening in that dark world. He just didn't know what it was or perhaps couldn't feel what it was. In a sense, that soothed him and numbed his feelings to the point where he just stopped thinking and simply enjoyed his peace after death.
Except... There was never peace.
Then—
Something changed.
At first, it was so faint he thought his mind was playing tricks on him. A dot of light, impossibly small, flickered far in the void. Yet the more he stared, the brighter it grew, swelling until it pulsed like a star being born.
It came closer.
For the first time since entering this darkness, Jack felt something stir in him. A pull. Warmth radiated from the glow, cutting through the emptiness. He found himself reaching for it instinctively, hand—or whatever existed of it—stretching forward. But no matter how far he reached, it slipped away.
The light didn't stop. It surged toward him, devouring the void. Within seconds, the brilliance engulfed him, swallowing his world of silence and shadow.
Blinding white exploded across his vision.
"Young master. Young master, wake up, please."
A voice.
Jack groaned, disoriented. The sound was soft, lilting, the kind of voice that could coil around a man's ear like silk. Feminine. Mature. Close. Then came another sensation: warmth, pressure. Something soft trailed across his bare skin.
His lashes fluttered open, eyes stinging against daylight. He blinked. Birdsong drifted faintly from somewhere far beyond. Rays of the sun passed through like golden strings.
"Mmm… you finally woke up, baby~"
Jack froze. A pair of lips pressed against his cheek, the kiss tender, familiar—as if he belonged to the one giving it. Slowly, he turned his head.
A woman lay sprawled against his chest, her body bare, her arm draped lazily across him.
And not just any woman.
She was breathtaking.
Her skin was pale, smooth as untouched snow, glowing faintly in the morning light. Her emerald eyes sparkled beneath long, dark lashes, and her lips—soft, plump, dangerously inviting—curved in a smile of utter devotion. She looked at him as though he were her entire world.
Jack swallowed, stunned. Her generous curves pressed against him, her thighs tangled with his, every motion brushing warmth across his skin.
'What the hell…?' He blinked hard, his thoughts reeling. 'Since when do I dream about naked women? And—no—wait. Didn't I die?'
His throat worked. "Who are you?"
The woman tilted her head, confusion flashing across her features. "Hm? Are you still dreaming, young master?" Her voice dripped with affectionate amusement. She nuzzled closer against him, her hand stroking his cheek. "After ruining me all night long, I don't blame you~."
Jack's mind stuttered.
She giggled softly and lifted herself from his chest, stretching languidly. Her hair cascaded down her back as her full form came into view. She was flawless, every curve sculpted like marble, her beauty almost surreal.
She padded toward the curtains, her hips swaying in an almost hypnotic rhythm. With a tug, daylight spilled across the room.
Jack sat up slowly, strands of unfamiliar hair falling across his face. He brushed them aside—and froze.
His body.
It wasn't his.
The form staring back at him was sculpted, powerful, muscles defined like an athlete carved in stone. But what truly unsettled him was what was missing.
No scars. No bullet wounds. No reminders of battles survived. His skin was pristine, immaculate. Untouched.
'That's impossible.'
He raised his hand, staring at it, then lifted his gaze again as the woman turned toward him, smiling warmly.
"Good morning, young master."
Jack said nothing.
"You should get dressed," she added sweetly. "We have an eventful day ahead."
Jack forced himself to stand, scanning the room. Opulence draped over every surface: velvet curtains, polished wood, gold accents. A king's bedroom.
His thoughts spun. 'Did I… reincarnate?'
It sounded absurd. Yet the evidence was undeniable. A new place. A new body. A stranger who spoke to him as if they had been lovers.
Reincarnation.
The word rattled in his skull, impossible yet fitting.
"Young master?" the woman asked again gently.
Jack steadied himself. "…I'll put my clothes on myself."
Her brows arched at the unusual tone, but she only nodded with a smile. "Very well. I'll make breakfast. I'll wait for you in the kitchen."
She slipped into a gown, loose and flowing, and left with a swish of the door.
Jack exhaled sharply the moment she was gone. He strode to the window, pulling the curtains wide, eyes sweeping the world beyond.
His breath caught.
Below, a sprawling city stretched across the horizon. Skyscrapers pierced the sky, traffic roared through wide streets, neon signs flickered even in daylight. A metropolis—yet unlike any he had ever seen.
'This isn't Earth.'
He tilted his head upward—and froze.
There was the sun, bright and blazing. But beside it hung a moon… cleaved cleanly in half, as if some god had taken a blade to it. Its broken halves floated in perfect defiance of gravity. And just beyond, another moon shimmered—a whole one, blue-tinged and alien.
Jack's mouth went dry. "…This definitely isn't Earth." His voice trembled with awe. "I've been… reincarnated."
The truth slammed into him with finality.
But before he could process further, something struck him. A prickling, then a pounding.
His skull throbbed violently. He staggered, clutching his head as a flood of alien sensations tore through him. Images. Words. Memories that weren't his forced their way inside.
Billions of fragments seared across his vision. Faces. Names. Emotions. Cities and histories. Knowledge beyond comprehension. It was like drowning in an ocean of lives he had never lived.
He gasped, writhing as he collapsed onto the floor, choking on the pain.
'What… the hell… is happening?'
His body convulsed, rolling across the carpet as the torrent continued. For endless moments, there was nothing but agony. Then, gradually, the storm ebbed. The flood slowed, the pressure in his skull loosening until he could finally draw a steady breath.
Jack opened his eyes.
And everything was different.
Confusion faded, replaced by clarity. The puzzle pieces clicked together.
The body was not his. But the memories now were. Memories of a life lived here, in this world. He knew names, faces, lineages, and places. He knew exactly who this body belonged to.
He was the son of an influential family. No—more than influential. Their power stretched so far, the world itself bent around them.
Jack's lips curled in bitter amusement. "Not just influential," he muttered. "This family… they're gods. Literally."
The absurdity almost made him laugh. A family of deities, and he had been dropped into their bloodline.
But the revelation didn't end there. The images he saw—the events, the stories—they stirred something familiar in him.
He frowned, staring into the middle distance. "…Wait a minute. Isn't this… the world from that book I read?"