The old man's eyes squinted against the sudden, blinding brightness. It was like staring into the heart of a star, relentless and pure.
His vision blurred, and for a second, all he could see was white, an endless, suffocating white.
Then, the light dimmed slightly, revealing a figure standing before him.
It was a young man, simple in appearance, with no face to speak of. No eyes. No mouth. Just smooth, unbroken skin where features should have been.
The old man blinked, trying to process the impossibility.
Surprisingly, the old man's face revealed nothing. No shock. No fear. Only calm acceptance. His gaze drifted down to his hands.
They were no longer the gnarled, trembling appendages of age. They were smooth, clean, and youthful hands that could belong to a man in his twenties.
His skin, once weathered by time and hardships, was now fresh and untouched.
The lines and wrinkles that told the story of his long life had vanished, replaced by vitality and youth.
The young man raised his right hand from his side, palm open and inviting. The gesture was simple, almost casual.
Welcome, Grievous, the voice rang out, calm and steady, yet deeply resonant.
Grievous's eyes narrowed with suspicion. He instinctively shifted his stance, preparing himself for any threat. "Who are you?"
The faceless figure's tone did not waver. Your mind will not even comprehend my name, so there is no need for that.
Grievous's heart beat faster. This was no ordinary encounter.
Now, let us get to the main point, the figure continued. You have two choices: die and go to the place where the dead go, or go to another world.
The words hung in the air, heavy with significance.
Grievous's mind raced. 'So reincarnation really does exist, huh? Could this be God?'
He studied the faceless man intently, searching for any hint of divinity.
The young man shook his head gently. I am not the God you think of, so there is no need to worry. Consider me a friend who wants your best interest.
Grievous's heart thudded painfully in his chest. He reads minds! Just like in those stories I used to read in high school!
A shiver ran down his spine as his gaze hardened.
The faceless figure nodded slowly. All the fiction you have read actually exists. But in an existence far removed from where you are now.
Grievous's thoughts spun in confusion. The man's words were cryptic, layered with meanings he could barely grasp. Questions piled up relentlessly in his mind.
After a long pause, he said firmly, "Another world. I want to be reincarnated."
The entity responded with a calm shake of the head. It is not a reincarnation. You will understand later.
The faceless man nodded once more and raised his hand. Before Grievous could react, a powerful force pulled him in. He was being sucked into the man's outstretched palm.
A voice echoed inside his mind. I gave you the ability to manipulate probabilities and the power to manipulate minds. It will benefit you greatly, but discovering it is up to you.
Then, everything went black.
When Grievous's eyes fluttered open, the warmth of sunlight poured through a nearby window. It was soft, warm, and golden, bathing the small room in a comforting glow.
He lay in a simple bed, tucked beneath rough woollen covers. The scent of wood and earth filled the air, grounding him to this new reality.
"I have been reincarnated," he whispered, voice trembling. "Or something."
His eyes slowly roamed the room. It was modest, a wooden hut from a time long past, with bare walls and a small table holding a clay cup. The floor creaked beneath the bed's shifting weight, and the faint sounds of birds chirping outside drifted through the open window.
Grievous raised his hand to his face, fingertips brushing over the soft skin of his cheek. It was smooth and warm, full of life. He could still feel the pulse beneath the surface.
"So it's actually real," he breathed, disbelief filling his throat. "It's actually real."
He moved silently, pulling back the worn covers and swinging his legs over the side of the bed. His feet touched the cold wooden floor, sending a chill through him.
A smile broke across his face, wide and genuine.
"It's youth again," he said softly. "That overwhelming power of youth. I haven't felt it in such a long time."
He stretched his arms above his head, savoring the sensation of strength and vitality. He flexed and unclenched his fists, feeling the blood surge through his veins.
But then, a sudden, sharp pain exploded inside his skull. It felt as if a drill hammered relentlessly at his brain, each pulse sending shockwaves through his body.
He bit down hard on his lip, muffling a scream as the agony spread from his head down to his limbs.
His vision blurred. His breath came in ragged gasps.
The pain was unlike anything he had ever known, far worse than bullets tearing through flesh, deeper than the ache of old age, sharper than any wound.
His body trembled violently, muscles spasming uncontrollably.
He gritted his teeth as his legs betrayed him, the left foot twitching erratically before collapsing beneath him.
Darkness swallowed him whole.
As he slipped into unconsciousness, one desperate thought echoed in his mind.
'It seems that I will die as soon as I move to a new world. Isn't this ridiculous?'
The silence of the hut was absolute once more.
Outside, the sun climbed steadily in the sky, casting long shadows across the land.
Inside, Grievous lay still, caught between worlds.
The journey had only just begun.