When I woke up, I was no longer in the void; instead, I found myself standing in a white plane that stretched as far as I could see. While it was white for the most part, there were different colorful lines meeting together in the center, creating a node that looked like multiple rainbows had been mixed together.
The colors were connected and interwoven in a way that created a masterpiece of colorful visuals, but, for the life of me, I couldn't think of a better description than "rainbow puke."
I had never been a color enthusiast—which may have been because I was blind most of my life—but I doubt these hues could be seen by the naked eye.
Anyway, where the hell am I? I don't think souls can sleepwalk. I checked my soul and found no abnormalities, but perhaps a more thorough examination was needed.
"Ah, you woke up! Good! We have a lot to talk about," said an old man who suddenly appeared out of nowhere, speaking in a language I had never heard before—yet, strangely, I understood him.
"You don't need to monologue to yourself, you know. You're not thinking quietly; you're just broadcasting your thoughts like a radio," the old man continued while I was still trying to figure things out.
Once again, I was puzzled by how I understood him or what he meant; I was obviously talking to myself, a habit I had developed for some strange reason. Perhaps the answer lies with the part of my soul I had thrown away?
"You mean you did that to yourself? What possessed you to do such a foolish thing?" the old man inquired, coming closer and waving his hand in front of me—like some kind of lunatic conducting an invisible orchestra for an invisible audience.
"You're really strange. Your soul is lacking some aspects, while having an abundance of others, and there's minor damage, but nothing that couldn't be fixed with time and proper knowledge," he added, somehow having checked my soul despite the energy shield that had been up since I went to sleep.
"Hey, old man, who are you? How can you inspect my soul while my shield is up? And what do you mean by everything you just said? Where is this place? Also, why am I here?" I asked him. And it just occurred to me that I had actually spoken somehow, which was interesting! I'll be sure to study this later.
"Again, you don't need to monologue, and yes, souls and spiritual beings can speak, but seeing how you want to research this yourself, I won't spoil the topic for you…
To answer your questions though: you are here because I requested someone from outside my multiverse, and you were brought here.
This place is a small dimensional plane created by me. I could inspect your soul because it was a non-aggressive diagnostic scan that passed right through; you should work on how you shield your soul better.
And *#I am the #%#One *#%Above *#%All^*~, the creator of this part of the #}^multiversal ^%}reality *#%chain." I heard the old man say…
Okay, I understood most of the things he said, but the last part flew over my head. It was overwhelming enough that I couldn't actually hear properly, let alone understand… interesting!!!
"Okay, honestly, what I understood may as well be different from what you said, but let me summarize to see if I got this right: I was delivered here like some kind of package; you can scan me because my shield is ineffective; and you're something-something creator of something multiverse something. Am I correct so far?"
"Eh, close enough. Can't fault you really—you're inexperienced with this way of speaking—and you are not strong enough to understand what I actually explained, but that's neither here nor there.
I requested someone from outside my multiverse for a job, and you were delivered, so you'll do just fine.
Now, before we talk about anything else, tell me about yourself," the old man said with interest.
Hmm? Why am I referring to a multiverse creator—if I understood anything he said correctly—as "old man"? He looks the part, plus the worst that could happen is being erased from existence.
Well, it might be better; my experience so far doesn't bode well for living. Still, I would prefer to actually use my skills before that…
"Again, your monologue is unnecessary; you should learn to utilize that shield of yours better so that you could selectively choose what you want others to hear…
Anyway, I don't mind being called old man, although not many do, for some reason. I mean—it's not like I would do anything to them, really, but I guess that's that.
Now tell me about your journey here; it sounds intriguing!" the old man said, berating me for my poor use of the shield. Maybe he doesn't know that I created this one while fighting sleep in the void. Eh, it doesn't matter.
I started talking with the old man, sharing everything I remembered about what had happened and how I got here, to which he listened with sparkling eyes that I didn't know one could have.
Upon reflection, though, it was strange; I don't think I'm sharing all of this with him purely because I want to, because I know I am not the sharing type. So there must either be something influencing me to do so, or I just felt like talking to someone about everything for once—but that's not important right now.
I learned something odd while telling him about the stories I now know from the memories I gained. He told me that some of them portrayed what happened in universes within his multiverse.
So, of course, I asked him about it—about how that could be possible—but he didn't tell me much; all he said was, "You didn't actually know what's possible, so why would this be any different?"
He also told me, "If you ever grow to be as strong and knowledgeable as me, then you would find out."
If you ask me, though, I think he was just lazy and didn't want to explain…
On another note, I somewhat found out how and why I appeared in that void alone after dying instead of going wherever other people go after dying.
His words were, "You might have had something that's considered supernatural in a reality that has no tolerance for such a thing, or you could have been cursed by a god in your previous world. Sure, I know the exact cause but not the actual reason. I don't think telling you anything about that would help in any way.
I mean, it could also be countless other reasons that got you kicked out of where you were.
What you should be certain of is that you were banished or rejected from your previous world into what you call the void, which is, by the way, the wrong definition for that place, but I'm not going to correct you."
And so, as you might infer, I was too special for the world itself—the world was jealous of me and had to kick me out. That means I just got confirmation of what I had always known—I'm just too awesome… hehe.
"Narcissistic thoughts aside, what you should be proud of are your instincts. That encounter with the soul you told me about was most likely a higher entity using a misguided human soul as a slave to do its bidding, because no soul goes through that place to reach a destination.
I am not telling you that reincarnation stories you know are wrong or that they don't happen. It's just that when they happen, they always stay in their own @$&$!:& section of the multiverse…
And before you ask, yes, if you hadn't followed your instincts, you would have most likely been enslaved instead," the old man interrupted my thoughts once again.
What he said was likely true; from the knowledge I gleaned from the soul and his life stories, the only conclusion I could come to is that it takes a special kind of fool to believe they are getting wishes from nowhere, just because they saved a child or because an omnipotent being is bored.
Especially the bored omnipotent being—that one is hilarious.
Though, to be fair, it might just be my trust issues influencing how I think. Plus, not everyone wishes to stay dead, so I guess they do what they can to keep living? I don't know, and I don't actually want to know…
Anyway, I wanted to ask the old man about the job he mentioned. "Hey, old man, you said something about a job. Care to give me the details? And am I getting paid?"
"Ah, the job, yes. I will send you to one of my worlds that has been forcefully merged with two others while I was taking care of something more urgent.
Your task is to find the individual who is reincarnated there and acquire his so-called system, either peacefully or by force—it's up to you.
The important thing is that you take care of him before his system can take root and does irreversible damage that would force me to erase that part of my multiverse and recreate it…
Before you ask: yes, I have taken care of those responsible; yes, you'll be given the means to extract the system and send it to me; yes, you're getting paid in the form of living again; no, that's all you'll receive for this job," the old man said.
He just answers whatever he likes, huh?
Before I could continue my musings, he cut in again. "Anyway, kid, it was nice getting to know you, but now I'm sending you to Death's realm so you can finalize your living-again situation."
Before I could ask how Death would help me, I was kicked out and moved in what felt like a bizarre sensation of sliding, gliding, stretching, and twisting.
Huh, that was fun.
I looked around and found myself in a dark place designed to look frightening—like how one decorates their home for Halloween.
Still, now that I got the feel of this place, it feels like home to me. So I did the first thing that popped into my head and said, "Honey, I'm home!"
And before you ask, yes, I learned this from one of the stories…
"Welcome," a smooth voice said from behind me. How did she get here without my notice? I don't know. And I didn't get much time to ponder that because the voice started talking again while I was turning around…
"Before you continue with that annoying habit of yours, let me introduce myself. I am Death. I will be responsible for sending your soul into the body of a recently deceased wizard who wishes to stay dead and 'reunite' with his family…
However, he still has an ongoing debt to magic and fate, so you'll be dealing with them in his stead unless, of course, you want to lose an easy way to get magic—which, if I had to guess, the answer is no. So, get ready."
Once again, I found myself being shoved somewhere, only to find myself in a train station where a scrawny kid sat beside a deformed-looking baby.
I scanned the baby-shaped thing first and then the boy, discovering that the baby was a deformed fragment of a soul, while the kid was a soul without abnormalities. And so, I walked toward him and sat beside him in silence.
The quiet lasted until the kid's attention snapped to me. Startled, he jumped up, looking at me vigilantly, he asked,
"Who are you? What are you doing here? How did you get here? Why?" Before he could continue, I cut him off like the old man and Death had done to me:
"Hey there, slow down kid. Sit down, take a deep breath, and then we'll talk." He eyed me suspiciously for a while but eventually sat, realizing I meant no harm.
"Well, first things first: I don't have a name. No—I had one, but I lost it along with some key memories that made up my identity.
So Call me whatever pops into your head.
As for why I'm here? Well, Death sent me to take the place of someone who wants to stay dead. So, what's your story."
Of course he didn't take my words for it but after some back and forth we eventually began discussing our lives…
Initially skeptical, the kid's doubts faded as we traded questions and answers. I quickly figured out how to project memories for him to see—and taught him to do the same too.
With the skepticism gone, we talked for a long while, puzzling over why he lingered here even after my arrival.
——