In a vast and endless cosmic multiverse, where every decision births an alternate timeline and every divergent path forms an entirely new universe...
A realm where fantasy kingdoms ruled by dragons exist alongside post-apocalyptic wastelands crawling with undead horrors—where anything imaginable becomes reality...
There is but one constant.
Death.
More precisely…
The God of Death.
Not some minor deity you'd find in a forgotten myth.
Not some localized entity who governs one world or reincarnation cycle.
But the Death.
The embodiment of cessation itself.
The Nameless One—feared, forgotten, and unknowable.
One of the Cosmic Three:
Death, Life, and Law—the supreme beings that rule over the very fabric of the multiverse.
But even for beings of absolute power, eternal life isn't all it's cracked up to be.
Somewhere in a higher plane of existence—untethered by time or space, suspended between dimensions—three thrones hover in a triangular orbit around a shimmering sphere. That sphere contains everything: every world, every soul, every possibility that has ever existed or will ever exist.
This is where our story begins.
Seated upon one of the thrones is a figure cloaked in ragged, black robes. Bone fingers drum idly on his armrest. Hollow sockets peer out into the infinite cosmos.
Death.
A skeleton wreathed in shadow, who leans back and exhales a sigh that echoes across dimensions.
"Am I the only one… or is this getting kinda boring…?"
His voice is dry. Worn. Not in a dramatic, end-of-days way—but in the way an ancient being might sound after watching the same show for eons.
On another throne, reclined lazily, sits Life. He looks like a young man sculpted from celestial beauty—white hair cascading down his shoulders, eyes that sparkle like stars yet betray a mischievous glint.
He chuckles, flicking his hair over his shoulder as he toys with stardust between his fingers.
"How unlike you. What brought the sudden change, Death?"
The central throne is occupied by Law—a faceless, imposing figure formed entirely of radiant white light in humanoid shape. The middle child and yet… somehow the father figure of the trio.
He watches in silence, unmoving, as the conversation unfolds. Finally, he speaks—voice flat, calm, but heavy with presence.
"And what do you suggest we do, then?"
Death leans forward, resting his bony chin on one finger as he muses aloud.
"Across a few timelines… I've noticed something. They call it 'transmigration.' A soul reborn in another world... sounds interesting. Can I—"
Before he can finish, a flick of cosmic dust smacks him square in the skull.
Life grins smugly.
"Not happening. Do you even understand what would happen if you're not sitting on that throne?"
Law interjects, hand raised like a weary parent.
"Oh, what's the harm? We can leave a placeholder to maintain your mark. It'll stabilize the sphere for a few millennia, at least."
Life glares.
"Oh come on—if he gets to take a vacation, I'm cashing mine too."
Law doesn't respond. Even without a face, his whole posture screams 'I'm too old for this sht.'*
He rests his head in one hand, tapping his fingers on the throne's edge.
"Fine… I'll allow it. Both of you. But no longer than a few millennia. Your signatures on the thrones will keep the multiverse balanced until then."
Death chuckles, standing slowly, bones clicking with cosmic weight. He drifts down from his throne and approaches the sphere, the stars beneath his feet shimmering like ripples on water.
"And this is why you're the best, Law!"
With childlike excitement, he skims his hand across the swirling sphere, cycling through worlds until one catches his eye.
"Bingo."
His form shimmers, folding into the sphere like a shadow being drawn into light. His divine essence begins to converge within a single worldline—one ripe with chaos, dungeons, awakened hunters, and fate-bending power.
Life peers over his shoulder and arches a brow.
"Oh, that world? Good choice, Death."
Then, without hesitation, he places his own hand on the sphere, his smirk widening.
"Well, I'm not about to be left out of the fun."
"Don't get into too much trouble," Law says dryly as both of them vanish into the swirling depths of reality.
Now alone, Law stares at the sphere.
He sighs.
And despite his glowing, featureless face, you can just feel the regret in his voice.
"I think I just made the worst mistake… in all of existence."
[Meanwhile, on Earth...]
A cracked phone alarm goes off in a dingy apartment. A half-dead young man groans, face-first in his cereal.
"...Ugh. So this is what being mortal feels like?."
And thus began Death's retirement.