Some things you expect—a failed test, a skipped meal, another late night at the orphanage helping the younger kids with homework.
Dying in broad daylight? Not one of them.
They say your life flashes before your eyes when you're about to die. For me? Just numbers. One Billion, Two Hundred Thirty-Four Million, Five Hundred Sixty Thousand. That's roughly how many heartbeats I've had since birth—eighteen years of a life I didn't choose but learned to make the best of. Not a bad run for a war orphan and someone determined to become a doctor.
Today was off. More kids outside than usual; maybe a holiday. I didn't ask. My apartment is three blocks from school—a privilege the government granted to orphans, if you want to call it that. Small mercy, but I've learned to appreciate small mercies.
I remember the boy at the crosswalk—soccer ball tucked tight under his arm, clutching his mother's hand while she waited for the light to change. I was behind them, just close enough to notice the slasher sprinting into the intersection, knife glinting. Panic all around, screams echoing, but no one moved. Not even the mother.
Without thinking, I shoved the boy aside.
Pain. Fast and sharp, then nothing—like a switch thrown in my brain.
But as I drifted away, I felt something warm. Relief. Peace. Because I'd done it. I'd saved him. That was enough.
Now I'm here, floating in the dark. No fear, no regrets—just quiet acceptance. I'd made my choice, and I'd make it again.
....
A shuffle in the emptiness, followed by a curse—the first sound I've heard since arriving.
"Oh for goodness' sake, these forms—where did I put the karma sheet..."
A figure appears, robes disheveled, a pen leaking ink down one sleeve and a smudge of what looks suspiciously like sauce on his beard. He looks through stacks of parchment that appear and vanish with a snap of his fingers, brow furrowed in concentration.
He glances up, startled.
"Oh! Young man, you're early. Sorry about the wait. These cosmic files are worse than the paperwork in old empire offices."
I blink, taking in the scene with calm curiosity.
"Are you... the one who decides what comes next?"
He tries to straighten his glasses, realizes he's wearing none, and simply nods sheepishly. "Yes! God of Creation, Management, and Sometimes Scheduling. You're Cain, correct? You have surprisingly high karma—impressive for someone so young."
A small smile crosses my face.
"I wasn't planning to die. But I couldn't let a kid get hurt. That wasn't even a choice—it was just... what needed to happen."
He beams, genuinely pleased.
"That child will save millions one day—his future impacts the world in ways you can't imagine. Because of your selfless act, you're eligible for three wishes before I send you to your new life. Standard sword-and-magic world, exciting monsters, all the usual adventure perks. Also, the food is terrible, fair warning."
Three wishes. The thought fills me with quiet determination rather than greed. I'm not looking for power or dominance. I'm looking for the tools to continue protecting people, to continue helping, and to reach my dream of becoming a doctor in a new world.
"First wish: photographic memory."
If I'm going to be a doctor in a new world, I need to remember everything—every technique, every lesson, every mistake. Knowledge will be my greatest tool.
God scribbles in a glittering notebook with visible enthusiasm.
"Granted! Excellent choice for a future healer."
"Second: limitless potential."
No ceiling. No limits. I want to grow strong enough to protect people, to never be helpless again.
I meet his eyes with quiet determination.
He hesitates, stroking his beard thoughtfully.
"Limitless is a bold concept. Most would settle for high talent. But..." He smiles warmly. "...you've earned it. Granted. You'll have no ceiling to your capacity for growth—in body, mind, and spirit."
"Third: a system with shop points."
I don't need unlimited. Five or ten would be enough if I'm smart about it. Survival items, healing supplies, knowledge—whatever helps me and my companions make it through.
"I don't need unlimited, but enough to help me survive and support my companions."
He frowns slightly.
"Unlimited points would strain the cosmic budget, but I can give you five free purchases to start. Choose them wisely, and the system will generate points as you progress."
I nod, satisfied. Five is more than enough if I plan carefully.
"Thank you."
"Of course! No trouble at all."
Papers shuffle, points sparkle, and God manages to spill ink on his cosmic terminal. He winces but doesn't seem particularly worried.
He straightens, then his expression grows more serious. "By the way, there's a slight technical challenge. You'll be sent to stabilize a risky situation—two powerful souls are colliding in a body, and the world's on the brink of destruction. I chose you specifically for your karma and willpower. It might feel strange at first, but I believe in you. Just..." He pauses, a hint of embarrassment crossing his face. "...try not to blow anything up."
I feel a strange sense of purpose settle over me. This is bigger than I expected, but it feels right. Like this is exactly where I need to be.
"I'm ready," I say, meeting his gaze with quiet confidence. "Send me."
God smiles—a little sad, a little proud, a little apologetic all at once.
"For what it's worth, Cain, I'm sorry to burden you with this. But sometimes the world needs a bomb defuser more than a hero. And you... you have the heart to be both."
Light erupts, pulling me forward. I stretch toward the future, steady, determined, and for the first time in my life, truly hopeful about what's to come.