The last thing Rayan Adhiraj knew was the cold, sharp betrayal of steel sliding between his ribs. It wasn't the pain that was unforgettable—though it was a white-hot fire—it was the sound. The collective, hateful sigh of relief from the dozen men who had finally, finally managed to corner him.
He saw their faces, floating in a blurry circle above him. Faces he had ruined in business, humiliated in debates, and crushed with the sheer, unassailable weight of his own superiority. Their smiles were weak things, pathetic. They hadn't won because they were better; they had won because they were a swarm of ants, and even a lion can be buried by enough ants.
"To think they will gang up .... on me " he thought, the words a bloody gurgle in his throat. "You didn't beat me. You just... were lucky."
His vision tunneled. The smug faces faded, replaced by a profound and absolute darkness. It was not peaceful. It was an insult. An end without his permission. An epilogue written for a story that was nowhere near finished.
Then, a sensation of being pulled. Not falling, but being drawn, like a document being summoned to a desk. The darkness coalesced, forming walls, a floor, a ceiling of shifting, star-dusted void. He was standing. He felt solid. Whole.
And he was not alone.
Before him, on a throne of what looked like solidified shadow and judgment, sat a being that radiated an aura of inescapable finality. His skin was the color of a moonless night, his robes a deep, bloody crimson. In one hand, he held a massive, ornate ledger that glowed with an inner light. In his eyes resided the weight of every soul that had ever passed from life. This was Yamraj, the Dharma Raja, Lord of Death.
Rayan's first instinct was not fear, but curiosity. "Damn this guy is cool....cool?"
"Rayan Adhiraj," Yamraj's voice was not loud, yet it vibrated through the very fabric of Rayan's soul, a gavel striking the universe itself. "Your time in the mortal coil has ended. It is time for your account to be settled."
"Account? ....Meaning past grudge?
Did I harm this guy too?
I guess I need to control myself, anyways,the problem must be this guy . Hmph! Who said him to go against me?"
A long, spectral finger, tipped with a nail like obsidian, tapped the ledger. It flew open, and light erupted from it. Two columns of script, woven from pure energy, spiraled into the air.
The Observation Hall of Yama
Far away, in a realm of serene, boundless blue, two figures watched the proceedings in a pool of still water. Lord Vishnu, the Preserver, reclined upon the serpent Shesha, his expression one of mild curiosity. Beside him, Lakshmi, the Goddess of Fortune, peered with a slight frown.
"This one," Yamraj's voice echoed faintly in their hall, "is a problem."
Lakshmi sighed. "The energy... it is so chaotic. So much potential, yet so... stubbornly balanced."
Vishnu simply smiled. "A soul that refuses to be categorized. Is that not fascinating?"
Back in the Court of Death
Rayan watched, his arms crossed, as the two columns of his life unfolded.
The right column glowed with a soft, golden light. He saw flashes: the corporate rival he had bankrupted, which inadvertently allowed a smaller, ethical company to thrive, saving hundreds of jobs. The corrupt politician he had exposed through a vicious, mocking public debate, his words a scalpel that laid bare the corruption and inspired reform. The countless times his sheer, uncompromising standards had forced others to be better, stronger, just to keep up. He had never intended to be a hero. He had only intended to win. But the universe, in its bizarre accounting, had labeled these as "Positive Karma."
The left column burned with a harsh, crimson light. Here were the raw, unvarnished truths. The shattered self-esteems of those he had verbally eviscerated. The families of his business rivals, left in poverty because of his ruthless tactics. The cold, calculated pleasure he took in every single victory, no matter how small. The absolute, unshakeable belief that he was simply better than everyone else. This was his "Negative Karma."
The two columns grew, and grew, and grew, perfectly mirroring each other. A lifetime of colossal, world-altering actions, both good and ill, born from a single source: his monumental arrogance.
Finally, the flow of light stopped. The two pillars stood side-by-side, identical in height and intensity. A perfect, impossible equilibrium.
Yamraj stared at the balance. For the first time, his impassive face showed a flicker of something: profound annoyance. "Zero," he pronounced, the word dripping with frustration. "A perfect zero. You have generated an immense amount of karmic energy, Rayan Adhiraj, only to cancel it all out. You are karmically stagnant. A paradox. I cannot send you to Swarga, for your pride bars the gate. I cannot send you to Naraka, for your unintended good deeds shield you. You are... an unresolved equation."
A slow, triumphant smirk spread across Rayan's face. The feeling was familiar, intoxicating. He had broken the system. Even here, at the end of everything, he had won. "So," he said, his voice echoing with its old, familiar arrogance. "I stumped Death himself. I suppose a 'well done' is in order."
Yamraj's eyes narrowed, the stars within them swirling dangerously. "You inconvenience the cosmic order. You are an anamoly!"
The Observation Hall
Lakshmi shook her head. "His arrogance is a fortress. It will not allow him to change."
"Or," Vishnu said, his eyes twinkling, "it is the only tool sharp enough to carve his new path. Look at the energy. Look at the potential. A soul that can generate this much impact, even chaotically, should not be filed away as 'pending.'"
He rose from Shesha. "I will intervene."
The Court of Death
A new presence filled the chamber. The oppressive weight of judgment was gently pushed aside by a feeling of immense, calm stability. A light, blue as a pristine ocean, manifested, and within it stood Lord Vishnu.
"Dharma Raja," Vishnu said, his voice a soothing balm after Yamraj's thunder. "This is a unique situation."
Yamraj gestured irritably at the balanced columns. "It is an impossibility!"
"It is an opportunity," Vishnu corrected gently. He turned his gaze to Rayan, and for a single, terrifying moment, Rayan felt truly seen. Not his actions, not his karma, but the core of him—the brilliant, unyielding, and lonely engine of his will.
"Rayan Adhiraj," Vishnu said. "You are a soul of extreme action. You move the world around you, for better or worse. To leave you here, in stasis, would be a waste. Your pride led you to this balance. Let us see if it can also lead you to a resolution."
"Eh?
Stasis?
Waste?
Resolution?
WTF is happening?"
Rayan,for once, was silent. The god's gaze was dismantling his defenses without a fight.
"You will be granted a new life," Vishnu declared. "In a world of magic and steel, where corruption is as common as the air you will breathe. Your mission is simple: tip your scales. Earn enough Good Karma to ascend, or enough Negative Karma to be damned. Settle your account."
"A game?" Rayan finally found his voice, a spark of interest igniting within him.
"Well , playing a game is I think good?
In this situation?
Anyways,If I don't comply he may even kill me!
Wait, Aren't I already dead?
Do I need to fear them?
Of course,I need to!!
I am already dead!!!
He might even send me to hell,who is stopping him?
But yeah I don't have to put a weak front,do I ?"
"A trial," Vishnu corrected, though a knowing smile played on his lips. "To aid you, you will be given a tool. A system to quantify the soul. To see the karmic weight of others. And a means to... transact... with the cosmos itself."
"Cosmos?"
"Yes"
Rayan's imaginary eyes shot open.After all the being in front of him was Lord Vishnu himself! Of course,he could read his mind!
With a slight chuckle Vishnu raised a hand. A point of blinding white light appeared before Rayan. "Do not mistake this for mercy. The path will be of your own choosing. Your arrogance built this prison. Now, let us see if it can be your key."
Before Rayan could ask what "transact" meant, the point of light expanded, consuming him. The court of Yamraj, the balanced columns of his life, the gaze of the gods—it all vanished into a roaring, silent whiteness.
His last conscious thought was not of fear or gratitude, but of sheer, competitive thrill.
"Well,Fine!!
A new world! A new game! And this time, the stakes are my own soul!
Let's play!!!"