Jason Bartel's life ended the moment it began.
When he lived, he lived as a dead man—no different from a walking corpse. It seemed like only bad things happened to him. Perhaps he was the unluckiest soul ever born. Not because he deserved misfortune, nor because he had committed some unforgivable sin before birth, but simply because he was born into the Bartel family—a dynasty whose roots ran deep into the veins of the mafia.
His father, the reigning boss of the era, wasted no time. As the firstborn, Jason was the heir, whether he wanted the throne or not. His father did not train or mentor him; he moulded him into a sharp sword. Forced teachings into him.
Jason learned to pull a trigger before he learned to walk straight. By thirteen, he spoke seven languages. By twenty, he had mastered every discipline forced upon him—firearms, strategy, torture, finance, diplomacy. Killing was no different from breathing.
At twenty-three, his father died in a humiliating fashion—an overdose of cocaine. And so, Jason inherited the empire.
As the boss, he killed thousands. Guilty. Innocent. It made no difference. Life held no value, and eventually, neither did his own humanity. His heart rotted. His soul turned to ash. Pleasure meant nothing. Pain meant nothing.
He was invincible—deadly with any weapon… even a spoon. People whispered that even Death feared him. But all things end, and Jason's life did the moment his own brother pointed a gun at him.
After his death, he closed his eyes. He opened them again and saw that he was floating in an endless void, accompanied only by his thoughts.
Then suddenly, light tore open the darkness. It was blinding—so bright it burned his eyes. From it stepped a figure with long golden hair, massive wings spread wide, and white robes that draped only his lower body.
"This will be interesting," the figure murmured. With a snap of his fingers, the void vanished. Jason found himself kneeling in what resembled a courtroom, though nothing like the earthly ones he had bribed his way through.
Three figures sat upon elevated seats. To the left was the winged man from before. To the right, an old man draped in black, his long grey beard resting against his chest. And at the centre—A woman in flowing white robes. Her hair was midnight-black, her smile gentle.
"Poor soul," she whispered.
Jason raised an eyebrow. "Where am I? And who are you people?"
The blond man scowled. "We ask the questions, mortal."
Jason sighed. "Judgement, then. Thought so."
"I'm surprised you're so calm," the blond said. "Most people—"
Jason yawned loudly, cutting him off. "Sorry. Can we hurry this up?"
"You little—"
"Enough," the woman said softly.
The blond man stiffened.
She turned her gaze to Jason. "Jason Bartel. You have committed countless atrocities. For your sins, I sentence you to an eternity in Hell."
Jason didn't flinch. He glanced around the chamber, noting statues resembling the three figures and a glowing orb suspended above them.
"So… gods," he said flatly.
"What?" the blond snapped.
"You're gods."
"Yes," the woman said calmly. "Now stay silent."
"Wait," Jason said. "One question."
She paused. "Speak."
"You punish sinners, correct?"Jason asked, looking deep into the woman's eyes. "We do."She said. "Then you're fair? Just? Pure of heart?"
"Yes." She answered. Jason's voice lowered. "Then tell me—would you punish a father who steals to feed his starving children? A mother who kills to protect her baby?" Silence. The three stared at him—confusion and faint disgust etched on their faces.
Then the old man burst into deep, echoing laughter. "Just as I expected," he said. With a snap of his fingers, Jason fell.
Hell
Jason awoke chained to a cavern wall. A ring of fire surrounded him, inching closer. He didn't scream at first. But when the flames consumed him, his composure shattered. He screamed, cursed, begged—and eventually whispered regrets into the darkness.
"If I had a choice…" he muttered, "I'd change everything." That was when she appeared.
A woman—if she could still be called one. Her skin was charred and cracked, a black veil draped over her face. Red light burned in her eyes as silent tears traced paths down her ruined cheeks.
"Oh… how sad," she whispered. "A prisoner your entire life." With a gesture, the flames vanished. His chains shattered. Jason collapsed, burned but alive.
"Who are you?" he croaked. "I am your salvation."
"What do you want?"
"To make you an offer." She led him to the edge of a mountain. Below them stretched Hell itself—a churning abyss of magma and screams. "So beautiful," Jason muttered sarcastically. "This is Hell." She said, pointing to the vast landscape. "So I gathered," Jason said enthusiastically. "You wish to be free," she said.
"Yes, of course, but I think that's out of the picture for me."He said. "Then obey me. If you do, I will guarantee your freedom," she said, turning to look at him
"…Do I have to kill?"He asked. She tilted her head. "Death is inevitable. Especially for you and me."
"I am the Goddess of Death," she said, lifting her veil, exposing her ugly, bony face. "And you are my chosen one." "The primordial gods imprisoned me here," she continued. "I can kill anything that exists as long as certain conditions are met, of course, and for that power, they sealed my strength and locked Hell's gates. The key lies on Earth."
" I want you to find it," she said. "Free me." Jason exhaled. "And if I refuse?" She pointed silently toward a bubbling lake of lava. "…Deal."He said without a moment's hesitation.
They then shook hands to seal the deal. A burning mark appeared on his forearm.
"You shall be reincarnated," she whispered. "I'll see you soon."
With a snap of her fingers, Jason vanished.