"W…where am I?"
Max's voice cracked as it drifted into the infinite whiteness. His body floated aimlessly, naked in the lightless, endless void. No sky. No ground. Just whiteness.
He twisted around, panic bubbling inside. His fingers reached for something solid, but only air met his touch. His heartbeat echoed in his ears.
"Wait…huh. I think…I think I'm dead."
His own words felt absurd. But what else could this be? He was alone, weightless, lost in nothing.
His lips twisted in a nervous half-smile. "Dead, huh? Great. Just great. This is how my story ends? Floating around like an idiot marshmallow in the world's weirdest screensaver?"
His voice carried, bouncing into nothingness. "Is this some kind of test to get into Heaven? A trial? Hello? Anybody there?! I'm seventeen, for god's sake! I still haven't even had a girlfriend yet! You're not seriously gonna end me like this, right?!"
Ding.
The metallic chime froze him in place.
Before his eyes, a glowing panel flickered into existence. Words appeared across the blue surface:
[ Do you want to be the System's Host? ]
( Yes / No )
Max blinked. He tilted his head. Then laughed—loud, broken laughter.
"Oh, oh this is rich. My life sucked so hard that even in death, I get popup ads. What is this, the afterlife version of a free trial? What's next, do I need to pay for no ads?"
He rubbed his temples. "God, I really died, didn't I…?"
Few Hours Earlier — At the Airport
The smell of roasted coffee and jet fuel clung to the air. Passengers hurried past, dragging luggage, hugging loved ones. Amid the chaos, Max stood with his parents near the boarding gate.
His mother gripped his arm like she'd never let go. "Max, remember—you call us when you land, alright? No excuses. And eat properly. And don't trust strangers—"
"Mom," Max cut in, chuckling softly, "I'm not going abroad to join the mafia. It's just a vacation."
She swatted his shoulder, eyes misty. "You're still my baby. Seventeen is too young to be off alone."
"Mom…" He hugged her tightly, pressing his face against her shoulder. Lavender perfume filled his nose, the smell that always made him feel safe.
His father stepped forward, offering a firm pat on the shoulder. "She's right, but you've earned this. Go. Relax. See the world. Just…don't forget who you are, son."
Max raised a brow. "Dad, you make it sound like I'm marching into a battlefield, not getting on a plane."
His father smirked. "With your luck? Might as well be."
They laughed together. The boarding call echoed through the airport speakers, and Max shouldered his worn-out backpack. His shoes squeaked on the tiled floor as he walked toward the gate, glancing back one last time. His parents waved, faces glowing with love and pride.
He waved back, hiding the nervous thrum in his chest.
The cabin smelled faintly of fabric cleaner and recycled air. Max settled into his seat by the window, buckled his belt, and shoved his earphones in. The music filled him, drowning out the chatter of strangers.
Finally. Freedom.
A real vacation. A break from endless exams, cruel laughter echoing in school corridors, bruises blooming under his shirt where no teacher noticed.
He closed his eyes, letting the music pulse through his skull.
"No more bruises. No more stolen lunch money. No more jerks shoving me into lockers just because they can," he whispered under his breath.
Yet as the melody lulled him into a half-sleep, his mind betrayed him. Memories surged.
Laughter—mocking, sharp. A fist slamming into his stomach. His books scattered on the ground. Coins snatched from his pocket while he curled in pain.
His breathing hitched. He sat up, tugged his hoodie tighter, and forced the music louder. "Not today. I'm free. I'm…free."
The plane climbed higher, cruising into calm skies. The gentle hum of the engines rocked him to sleep.
Few hours later
BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.
The alarms pierced his dreams. His eyes flew open to red flashing lights. Oxygen masks dropped, swaying violently.
People screamed. The overhead bins burst open, bags tumbling onto heads and laps.
"What's happening?!"
"Oh my god—we're going down!"
The flight attendants shouted instructions, but their voices were drowned by the chaos.
Max's hands fumbled with the mask. His fingers trembled so badly he nearly dropped it.
The plane tilted sharply, his stomach lurching as gravity tugged them earthward.
His heart thundered. His mouth went dry. "No…no, no, no!"
Around him, strangers clung to loved ones, crying, praying. A woman whispered apologies into her child's ear. A man sobbed into his wife's hands.
And Max? Alone. Always alone.
This is how it ends? Just like this?
Memories burst behind his eyes in rapid flashes.
The first time he learned to ride his bike, his father's hands steadying him before letting go. He fell, scraped his knees, but laughed as his father clapped proudly.
His awkward attempt at confessing to a girl in class, words stumbling, face beet red, her giggles soft but kind.
The warm scent of garlic and onions as his mother cooked dinner, humming off-key while Max sat at the kitchen table, doing homework.
Fishing by the river with his dad, the water glimmering gold at sunset. His father's arm around his shoulder, their laughter echoing in the breeze.
Tears welled in his eyes. "Mom…Dad…I don't—"
The plane screamed as metal bent and tore. The horizon spun violently outside the window.
Impact.
A thunderous explosion. Fire. A crushing wave of sound and heat.
And then—darkness.
When Max's eyes opened again, everything was gone.
No fire. No screams. No pain.
Just whiteness. Silence.
"W…where am I? Wait. I think…I think I died." His voice cracked. His hands shook as he looked around. "This is it? This is Heaven? Really? A cheap white waiting room with no furniture? Even school detention had more life than this."
He cupped his hands, shouting, "Hello?! Anybody?! At least give me some clouds or something! I didn't pay for minimalist afterlife DLC!"
Ding.
A blue panel appeared again.
[ You have died. The System has taken interest in you. Do you want to become the System's Host? ]
( Yes / No )
Max squinted. "…This is either a prank or I've been subscribed to an afterlife video game. Cool. Where's the refund button?"
The silence answered him.
He sighed, floating in place. "Okay, okay…if this is one of those trick questions where I press 'yes' and then end up in Hell, I'm gonna be really pissed."
His finger hovered. He closed his eyes, muttered, "…What the hell. Not like I've got anything else lined up," and tapped [ Yes ].
[ Congratulations. You are now officially the Host of the System. ]
"…WHAT?!" Max flailed in the void. "Wait, wait—I was supposed to be dead! I didn't agree to…whatever this is!"
[ You are about to enter another world. ]
"Another world?!" His voice cracked into a squeak. "Hold on! Are you telling me this isn't Heaven? Are you some kind of afterlife Uber driver? Hello?!"
[ The reincarnation process will begin shortly. ]
"Reincarnation?!"
[ Reincarnating in 3…2…1… ]
"WAIT! I DIDN'T EVEN—"
Darkness swallowed him whole.
Light seared his eyes. Air flooded his lungs. He gasped, jolting upright—only to find himself lying on a massive bed draped with silks.
He blinked, heart hammering. The room around him looked like something out of a palace—tall windows with golden curtains, walls painted in rich cream, chandeliers glittering overhead.
"What the actual hell…"
He stumbled toward a gilded mirror. His reflection froze him.
The boy staring back wasn't Max Richardson.
This boy was taller, sharper, breathtakingly handsome. Dark hair framed golden eyes that seemed to glow. His jawline looked sculpted. His skin flawless.
"…No. No way."
Panels popped up one after another:
[ Reincarnation complete. ]
[ You have been reborn as: Brad Reinx ]
[ Current Host: Max Richardson ]
[ Welcome to another world. I am the Ascension System. ]
His jaw dropped. "…You mean…I died, got Isekai'd, and now I'm…a freaking rich pretty boy?!"
Another panel appeared:
*Host's Name: Max Richardson.
* Body Identity: Brad Reinx.
* Level: 1.
* Job: None.
* Weapon: None.
* Abilities: None.
Max stared. Then looked back at the mirror.
Then at the screen.
Then back at the mirror.
"…No fucking way."
The door creaked open. A butler in a crisp suit entered, bowing. "Young Master Reinx, you are awake. Shall I prepare your breakfast?"
Max froze. "…Young…Master?"
The butler raised a brow politely.
Max pointed at himself. "You're talking to…me?"
"Yes, Young Master."
Max's brain short-circuited. He burst out laughing, loud and hysterical. "Oh my god, I'm rich! I'm hot! I'm not being shoved into lockers anymore! Holy crap, I've upgraded from Discount Max to Deluxe Brad!"
The butler blinked, clearly concerned for his sanity.
Max spun in the room, arms wide. "Screw you, bullies! Look at me now! I've got chandeliers! I've got silk sheets! My bathroom probably has a golden toilet!"
He collapsed onto the bed, laughing and crying at once. "…This is insane."
Ding.
[ Host has officially entered the new world. Training quests will unlock shortly. ]
"…Wait. Training quests?!"
[ Yes. Please prepare. Your survival will depend on it.]
Max's laughter choked. "…Oh crap. Of course. Of course there's a catch."