The night had grown deep.
The constant sound of passing vehicles slowly faded as the hours crept forward. Engines that once roared through the streets became distant murmurs, until even those disappeared into the silence.
One by one, the lights in the neighborhood went out.
Windows darkened.
Doors closed.
Curtains drawn.
The world was quietly surrendering itself to sleep.
Another day had come to an end. For some, it had been a satisfying one—a day filled with small victories, laughter, and the comforting fatigue that came from living fully.
For others, it ended with disappointment. Plans that failed. Efforts that bore no fruit.
But for the young man lying silently in the dimly lit room, it was neither.
To him, it was simply the end of another meaningless day. A day that would never matter.
Ever since the accident that severed his spinal cord, life had become something else entirely.
Not living. Not dying. Just… existing.
At first, there had been hope. Doctors. Treatments. Rehabilitation. Endless advice from people who believed time would heal everything.
But years passed. Hope faded. And the constant cycle of frustration, despair, and helplessness slowly ground away at him like waves eroding a cliff.
The rollercoaster of emotions never truly stopped. Hope. Disappointment. Anger. Acceptance. Then back again. Over and over. Until eventually, even those feelings began to dull. What remained now was something quieter. Something emptier.
The young man who once dreamed, planned, and fought for a future had long since disappeared. In his place was little more than a hollow shell. A body that breathed. A mind that wandered. And a life that felt like it had stopped moving forward years ago.
Outside, the last passing car rolled down the street before vanishing into the distance. Silence settled over the neighborhood.
The world had fallen asleep.
In the quiet darkness of his room, he stared at the ceiling.
Most people used moments like this to pray. To thank God for the day that had passed… and to ask for protection through the night, hoping tomorrow might be kinder.
But he had nothing to thank God for.
And nothing left to ask.
Years ago, he had prayed. At first, with desperation. Then with patience. Then with stubborn faith. But year after year, those prayers seemed to vanish into empty silence.
No answers. No miracles. Just more days, the same.
His own fate had slowly worn down what little belief he once held.
And the world around him had not helped.
He still remembered the final days of his grandmother, a devout woman who had spent her entire life praying faithfully. Even as illness consumed her, she never stopped whispering prayers beneath her breath. Yet suffering was the only answer she received.
Then came the accident that took his younger brother.
Sudden. Cruel. Pointless.
That was the moment the last fragile thread of faith finally snapped.
To him, God simply did not exist.
And if such a being did exist… then it could only be a cruel one.
The young man exhaled quietly and reached for his phone. The screen lit up in the darkness. 11:47 PM.
He stared at the numbers for a few seconds before placing the phone back beside him.
With no tomorrow to look forward to, slowly, he closed his eyes.
The world faded as darkness devoured his consciousness into oblivion.
But then, a blinding light pierced through his eyelids, causing him to flinch in surprise. He raised his hands for cover and slowly opened his eyes, curious to see what was happening.
He opened his eyes.
The world around him was white—walls stretching in every direction, impossibly clean, impossibly quiet. Nothing moved except for the faint glow that seemed to pulse from the surfaces themselves.
A path of light appeared before him, stretching toward what looked like a door at the far end. It wasn't threatening or sharp—it seemed to invite him, calling him forward with gentle insistence.
Without thinking, he stepped onto it and followed the glowing line, each footstep silent against the ethereal surface, until he crossed the doorway.
What unfolded beyond that threshold could have been lifted straight from a sci-fi movie.
He froze.
Before him was a balcony, smooth and seamless, seemingly made entirely of glass. Its edge dropped away into the void, yet somehow, he didn't feel fear. Across the platform, the universe stretched out endlessly.
Galaxies spun lazily in the distance, punctuated by drifting nebulae and twinkling stars, their glow painting the infinite horizon with soft colors.
Between him and that impossible horizon flowed a river of light, wide and curved, arcing from the left and disappearing to the right. Its ends vanished into nothingness, as though the universe itself bent to accommodate it.
Within the luminous arc moved millions of tiny lights, flickering like fireflies, drifting along the glowing current.
Standing near the edge of the balcony, facing the center of the luminous river, was a figure.
Its form was difficult to define—neither fully human nor fully light—but it radiated a calm authority that made the young man hesitate.
For a few moments, nothing moved—then several of the firefly-like lights that drifted along the river swirled around him, guiding him forward. Tentatively, he took a step.
The glowing swarm parted and wove ahead, creating a silent path.
Slowly, he approached the figure, each footstep heavy with the weight of the unknown.
When he was close enough, the figure turned to face him.
"Welcome, wandering soul," the voice said—warm, yet carrying an echo of eternity.
Taken aback, the young man replied, "Thanks… I guess. But where am I? Is this some kind of weird dream?"
The entity spread its arms slightly in a gesture that was both inviting and solemn. "Here lies the space in between the realm of the living and the dead."
"Between the realm of the living and the dead?" The young man tilted his head in confusion. "Did I… perhaps die?"
"Indeed," the figure nodded. "You just passed away peacefully in your sleep."
The young man let the words settle without emotion.
"I see. I reckoned my time would come soon… but at least my only wish came true."
A pause.
Then he added, almost automatically, "So… am I here to get my verdict before being thrown into the pit of eternal fire?"
The figure chuckled—a sound that resonated softly, as though echoing across the infinite river of light.
"No. I am not the judge of the underworld."
With a graceful wave of its hand, a swarm of the glowing firefly-like motes gathered around the figure, their colors shifting from pure white to deep dark hues. They twisted and spiraled, forming a moving tornado of light.
"I am the guide of souls," the entity continued, "the one who watches over the cycle of life."
It gestured toward the vast river of light stretching below them.
"The one you see is the river of souls, the path every soul must traverse to lose all memory of its past and be reborn in a new vessel."
The young man looked down at the flowing current, uncertainty in his voice.
"I see… then why am I here? Shouldn't I be traversing that river like the rest?"
The figure stayed silent for a while as if thinking for an answer.
"You came here with your memory intact, in the same appearance as your mortal body," the figure explained.
"That can only mean one thing: you have been chosen."
"Chosen? For what? By whom?" The young man asked, confusion tightening his chest.
"Even I do not know the reason," the figure said solemnly. "Only the One who rules above all knows. I am but a mere guide."
"But why me? What am I supposed to do?" the young man pressed, searching for some kind of clarity.
"I do not have an answer," the figure replied, voice calm but firm. "Just as I did not have answers for those who came before you."
"Before me?" The young man's eyes widened. "That means… I'm not the only one?"
"Indeed," the figure confirmed. "You are not the first, and you will not be the last. Special cases such as yours appear once in a while."
Silence followed as the young man became lost in his own thoughts.
"So… am I going to be reincarnated in the same country where I once lived? Or do I get a choice?"
"No," the figure replied without hesitation.
"For special cases such as yours, the soul is sent to a different world. Your memories will remain intact."
The young man nodded faintly. That answer made sense to him somehow.
Then a thought crossed his mind. A small smile appeared on his face—the first genuine expression he had shown since arriving in this strange place.
"By another world," he said slowly, "do you mean one of those fantasy worlds full of magic… or some parallel universe drowning in chaos and suffering?"
For the first time in a long time, the emptiness in his eyes flickered with life.
The figure studied him quietly before answering.
"Yes… and no." It turned slightly, its gaze drifting toward the luminous river stretching across the cosmic horizon. "That world is indeed one where the concept humans call magic exists."
The figure paused, as though choosing its next words carefully.
"As for chaos and suffering…" Another moment of silence followed before it continued.
"You see, men were given free will so that they may choose how to live their lives. The world below follows a simple principle—what humans often call cause and effect."
The young man remained still, listening. He seemed to have no intention of interrupting.
Seeing this, the entity continued.
"Whether that world descends into chaos or flourishes in peace is no longer the will of the divine realms."
Silence followed. But inside the young man's mind, the words continued to echo.
Cause and effect.
A bitter thought surfaced almost immediately. "Is he telling me that the pain and suffering I endured for half of my life… was the result of my own actions?"
The idea pricked at him.
Part of him knew it might make sense. The world was full of accidents, choices, and consequences tangled together in ways no one could fully understand.
Yet another part of him resisted the thought instinctively, searching for something—someone—to blame. Fate. God. The universe itself.
But after a moment, he exhaled quietly.
There was no point digging through the ruins of the past. What had already happened could never be undone. His gaze drifted back to the endless river of drifting lights below the balcony.
If what was unfolding before him truly was a second chance… Then it was an opportunity he had no intention of wasting.
Slowly, he lifted his head and looked back at the entity.
"So," he said, the faintest trace of curiosity returning to his voice, "what happens next?"
The divine entity swiped its hand from left to right, and a massive screen materialized in front of him, covered in names, descriptions, and symbols—countless skills, each glowing faintly as if alive.
"For now," the entity explained, "choose. These skills will help you in your new life. But you may only select three unique skills, one extra skill, and one ultimate skill."
The young man tilted his head, confusion flickering across his face.
"Am I… entering a game world? This isn't real, is it?"
The entity only smiled, a gesture both gentle and infinite, and simply gestured toward the glowing screen.
Still uncertain, the young man began scanning the list, eyes moving over hundreds of options. Most seemed tailored for combat.
Nothing sparked his interest.
He wanted a simple life, a slow and satisfying existence, not endless battles or glory.
The silence stretched.
Then the divine voice spoke again, soft but firm:
"Anything catch your interest yet?"
The young man looked up, shaking his head.
"No… not yet. Please… give me a little more time."
The entity inclined its head, serene. "Very well. Take all the time you need." Turning, it faced the river of souls once more, a silent guardian watching the flow of lives.
Minutes passed. The young man finally paused, eyes fixed on the glowing options. After careful consideration, he made his choices:
Unique Skills:
Artisan Touch – Every creation he made, from a simple meal to a crafted item, would improve dramatically in quality.
Shadow Manifestation – A skill that simply called to him, its name alone enough to spark a thrill in a die-hard ninja fan.
Shadow Manipulation – Likewise, the art of shadows and stealth resonated with him, not for utility, but for the joy of mastery.
Extra Skill:
Grace of Luminis – Immunity from instant death, slight resistance to poison and disease. A quiet reassurance for someone stepping into the unknown.
Ultimate Skill:
Eye of Providence – A tool for appraisal and perception. Combined with Artisan Touch, it promised opportunity, insight… and money.
He paused, eyes lingering over the ultimate skill, thinking of the anime he loved. Something like "Great Sage" would have been perfect—but it didn't exist here. He settled for what he had, satisfied that even without grandeur, these choices were enough.
"I'm done," he called out to the divine entity.
"Have you made your choices?" the entity asked, turning slowly to face him.
"I think… yeah. I'm satisfied with my choices," he replied, a faint certainty creeping into his voice.
"Good. Well then."
With a wave of his hand, the skills he had chosen lifted from the screen and sank into the young man's chest. Instantly, his body glowed, a warmth and pressure radiating from deep within—as if something was being etched into the very core of his soul.
Moments passed, and the glow slowly faded. The strange sensation ebbed away, leaving only a subtle pulse, like the echo of a heartbeat he hadn't felt before.
The entity regarded him and nodded.
"It seems you are ready to venture into the new world."
His voice drew the young man back from wandering thoughts.
"What… just happened?" he asked, confusion still clouding his mind.
"The skills you chose have merged with your soul," the entity explained calmly.
He raised his hands, and a glowing firefly-like moth alighted gently on his palm. "Focus on this."
The young man leaned closer, his eyes following the firefly's delicate movements.
Suddenly, a translucent screen appeared before him, displaying words and numbers—a human soul. Realization struck him: this must be the effect of his ultimate skill, Eye of Providence.
He tried to do the same with the divine entity, but only an error appeared.
"I see… this is how skills work," he muttered, half in awe, half in thought.
"Indeed," the entity confirmed. "From now on, it is up to you how you choose to use them—for better or for worse."
A deep, resonant bell rang through the space, reverberating against every wall and surface.
His vision blurred, tilting and spinning as dizziness claimed him.
"Looks like your time is up," the entity said, voice calm yet final.
"Wait… what do you mean?"
The young man tried to speak, to ask more questions, but his consciousness was already slipping away.
"Let us not meet again too soon," were the last words he heard.
And then… darkness swallowed him, folding him into nothingness.