Death
If there was one thing Kael desperately wanted in his pathetic life, death would always be his answer.
Born to an abusive father and a Slutty mother, he wanted nothing but to die.
He knew he was weird for wanting to die but there'd be no better present than to be killed.
He'd thought of killing himself many times but in the process he got so scared he backed out with just a bloody finger.
He knew that if he couldn't kill himself he didn't really want to die, but its not about dying, he didn't want to feel pain when dying.
His life is already the definition of pain, what good would dying do when he would be in pain.
Even though he didn't want to kill himself, the idea of being killed — favourably cutting his head off, he would gladly welcome it with open arms but unfortunately for Kael, he wasn't a billionaire to have enemies wanting him dead, just horrible horrible parents who needed him to work for them.
One evening, on his way home, Kael walked down the street with a plastic bag of groceries swinging at his side. His mum had sent him to the store—a rare occasion, a once-in-a-blue-moon kind of thing. The city was restless as always; gunshots weren't unusual here. But that night, something about the sound felt different—closer.
"Move out of the way!" someone barked, shoving Kael hard enough to make him stumble and hit the pavement.
"Fucking idiot!" he snapped, glaring after the stranger.
The man turned, and before Kael could blink, a gun went off.
The bullet caught him square in the head. His body hit the ground with a heavy thud, groceries spilling out beside him—an apple rolling into the gutter, a carton of milk bursting open.
Blood spread across the concrete. People stopped, forming a wide-eyed circle, frozen between fear and fascination.
But Kael didn't feel fear. Or pain. Just… joy. A strange, weightless joy.
He was finally leaving this cruel world behind. And somehow, that felt like mercy.
What more could anyone ask for?
But one thing about fate was that it didn't play nice.
Kael thought dying was the end. It was, but not for him.
God had other plans for him.
In a white room—no, a white space—a being lay, posture serene, like the angels of Renaissance paintings.
"Human… human, are you awake?"
The voice was soft, angelic, so beautiful that for a fleeting moment, Kael wanted to sing a hymn in its honor.
"It doesn't matter if you answer or not," the voice continued, calm yet unfeeling.
Kael's thoughts spun. What was going on? He had died—he was sure of it. He shouldn't be here. He should be on his way to heaven, or perhaps somewhere darker, after all the punishment he'd endured.
"Do you want to live?" the being asked. Its voice carried that same divine melody, yet there was something grave beneath it.
The answer was obvious. No. He didn't want to live. Not if living meant more pain, more despair.
"Hm. I knew you'd say that," the being said lightly. "But you don't have a choice."
No. No. No.
Kael screamed the words inside his head, but his mouth wouldn't move. He didn't want this—he wanted to end. To rest. But the being ignored his silent protest.
"You're going to be sent to a whole new world," it said. "No warnings. No advice. Just you."
Kael's heart, if it still existed, clenched.
"Why?"
The being smiled—a perfect, sickening smile that didn't belong on such a divine face.
"Because it wouldn't be fun otherwise. And we need some entertainment."
It tilted its head, eyes shimmering with cruel amusement.
"But don't worry," it added sweetly. "We've prepared a little present for you. It'll come once all the requirements are met."
No! He wanted to scream. No more worlds. No more pain. Just let me die!
But his thoughts were swallowed by the white void.
"Goodbye," the being said, voice echoing like a hymn sung in reverse. "And remember— I'm not letting you die"
Aargh!!!!!
Kael screamed as unrelenting surged through his every being.
That was the first thing Kael felt. Not breath. Not warmth. Just pain—sharp, endless, burning through every nerve until it was all he knew.
His body jerked on cold metal. He gasped, lungs dragging in air that stank of oil and ozone. The weight on his chest made each breath feel like drowning. His vision snapped in and out—white, black, static—like a broken screen trying to remember what it was.
Then the memories came.
Nothis.
Faces. Voices. The thunder of boots on steel floors. Screams swallowed by gunfire. Words he didn't understand shouted through static.
He was suffocating under them, his mind tearing as they forced their way in.
"Lieutenant Eira, squad nine compromised—"
Who...?
"Deploy the nanite barrier!"
"He's still breathing get him to the lab!"
Each echo burned itself into him until he didn't know what belonged to Kael anymore.
He grabbed his head, nails digging into skin, trying to hold himself together as if he could stop someone else's life from flooding his mind, but the memories didn't stop coming.
The body he was in didn't feel like his. It was heavier, stronger. He was breathing like something alive but not human. When he moved, a faint mechanical whir answered back, and dread settled in his chest.
"What… is this?" His voice came out hoarse, strange in his own ears.
The room around him pulsed with light. Neon strips flickered along walls of brushed steel. Holographic screens floated in the air, covered in symbols he couldn't read. Through a cracked pane of glass, a city stretched into the clouds—towers of light and shadow, airships gliding between them.
He wasn't in heaven. He wasn't in hell.
He was somewhere worse.
The memories hit again, softer this time, like ripples on a dying heartbeat. He saw flashes—a metal table, a woman in a white coat, the sting of a needle. A name whispered through the chaos.
Kael-09.
He had the same name.
A test subject. Military bio-synthetic program. The original host… dead.
He died because the pain he received was inhumane.
And now he was here. Inheriting the pain.
A voice drifted through his head, too familiar to mistake. Smooth. Angelic. Cruel.
"Welcome to your new world, Kael."
He froze.
"Try not to die too quickly, cause I won't let you."
Silence followed. The hum of the machines returned, steady and uncaring.
Kael pressed his trembling hands to the floor, breathing hard. His reflection stared back from the polished metal—eyes that weren't his own.
Blue and red. Weird.
He didn't know what he was anymore.
Only that he was alive.
And that was the worst part.
"Fuck."