"Why did I have to end up here after dying? Couldn't I just get, you know... Erased or something. This place is even worse than the hell I imagined. I'M GOING CRAZY HERE, GET ME OUT!!!"
Gary shouted and pulled on his metaphorical hair as he floated about in what could only be described as a void. And not the cool, edgy kind of void you see in anime or read in novels where there's at least some ambient lighting or floating particles or some shit like that. No, this was just... Nothing. Pure, absolute, suffocating nothing.
Everything was just pitch black; not the faintest source of light could be seen anywhere. Gary couldn't even see his own hands, or whatever passed for hands in his current ghost like form. He tried waving them in front of where he thought his face should be, but there was nothing. No reflection, no shadow, not even that weird floaty feeling you get when you wave your hand past your nose.
It was the kind of darkness that made you question if you even had eyes anymore. Hell, it made you question if you were even real.
"Seriously, what kind of afterlife bullshit is this?" Gary muttered, trying to keep himself sane by talking out loud. "I mean, I wasn't expecting heaven, but this? This is just lazy world design. Where's the fire and brimstone? Where's the judgment? Where's literally anything?"
One might ask, who exactly is Gary, and why is he in such a situation?
Well my friends, that takes us back to a couple hours ago. Or at least, what felt like a couple hours ago. Time was weird as fuck when you were floating in an endless void with no reference points.
...
December 1, 2025 - Earlier That Day
Somewhere in New Jersey, in a shitty two-bedroom apartment that Gary and his roommates were renting for way too much money.
Gary McNeish had woken up that morning the same way he woke up most mornings: to the sound of his roommate Jake yelling at his computer screen about a Dragon Ball: Xenoverse match, and the smell of burnt toast coming from the kitchen where Marcus (different Marcus, not his dad) was trying and failing to make breakfast.
"Fucking hell, can you guys keep it down?" Gary groaned, rolling out of bed and immediately regretting it when his feet hit the cold floor. December in New Jersey wasn't the coldest winter, but their landlord was cheap as hell with the heating.
"Morning, sunshine!" Marcus called from the kitchen. "Want some toast? It's only a little crispy."
"By 'a little crispy' you mean 'literal charcoal,' right?" Gary shot back, but he was already pulling on a hoodie and heading to the kitchen anyway. Burnt toast was still toast, and he was broke enough to the point where he would recite a mantra everyday that beggars couldn't be choosers.
His life had become this comfortable routine of mediocrity. Community college graduate, working a dead-end job at a call center, splitting rent with two other guys who were in similar situations. It wasn't the life his parents probably imagined for him when they were saving up for his college fund, but it was stable. Stable was good enough.
Gary McNeish, a regular, everyday orphan. Like yeah, his life couldn't be any more cliché if he tried.
But to understand how he got here, to this apartment, to this life of just... existing, you had to go back. Way back. To the day that split Gary's life into a clear before and after.
December 15, 2017 - The Day Everything Changed
Somewhere in New Jersey, a regular Tuesday morning that had no business being as important as it turned out to be.
8 years old Gary was bouncing off the walls like someone had injected pure caffeine directly into his bloodstream. Which, considering the amount of Lucky Charms he'd inhaled for breakfast, wasn't too far from the truth.
"GARY! Baby, you need to brush your teeth and get your backpack!" His mom, Sarah McNeish, called out from the kitchen while packing his lunch. She was a short woman with curly brown hair that Gary had inherited, along with her habit of talking with her hands when she got excited.
"I'm already done, Mom! Look!" Gary came sliding into the kitchen in his socks, grinning with a mouth full of toothpaste foam still visible at the corners.
"Boy, you did NOT brush for two minutes," his dad, Marcus McNeish, laughed from where he was checking his phone at the kitchen table. He was a tall, dark-skinned man with the kind of dad bod that came from working long hours at their grocery store and Sarah's cooking. "I can literally still see the cereal in your teeth."
"Daaaad!" Gary whined, but he was already running back to the bathroom, in his light-up sneakers which had had just finished putting on that was flashing with each step.
Sarah shook her head, smiling as she zipped up Gary's Spider-Man lunchbox. "That boy has two speeds: asleep and chaos."
"Wonder where he gets it from," Marcus teased, dodging the dish towel she threw at him.
It was their routine. The kind of routine that you don't appreciate until it's gone. Wake up, get Gary ready for school, drop him off, then head to their store, McNeish's Market, a small mini supermarket they'd opened three years ago. It wasn't much, just a corner store in a decent neighborhood, but it was theirs. They'd scraped together every penny, took out loans that made Marcus wake up in cold sweats some nights, and poured their hearts into making it work.
Some days were tight, real tight, but they were making it. Gary had everything he needed, and most of what he wanted. Life was good. Not perfect, but good.
"You remember we need to pick up that shipment today, right?" Sarah said, checking her own phone. "The distributor said it'd be there by 10."
"Yeah, yeah, I got it on the calendar," Marcus replied, standing up and stretching. He grabbed his jacket off the back of the chair, an old leather one that Gary loved because it made his dad look like a movie character. "Honey, I'm telling you, if we can just get through this month, we'll be golden. Holiday season's about to hit, and you know everybody needs last-minute groceries."
"Mmhmm, and everybody's gonna want those cookies I ordered," Sarah added with a grin. "I'm telling you, Marcus, those gourmet cookie brands? They're gonna fly off the shelves."
Gary came running back into the kitchen, this time with an actually clean mouth. "Can we go now? I don't wanna be late! Today's show-and-tell and I brought my Bakugan!"
"Alright, alright, little man," Marcus said, ruffling Gary's hair as he grabbed the car keys to their 2012 Honda Accord. It wasn't new, wasn't fancy, but it was reliable. Paid off, too, which was a blessing when you were running a small business. "Let's get you to school so you can show everyone your little ball monsters."
"They're not ball monsters, Dad, they're Bakugan warriors! they're even cooler than you" Gary protested, but he was giggling as he put on his backpack.
The drive to Gary's elementary school was only about fifteen minutes. Gary spent the entire time in the backseat talking non-stop about his Bakugan, about how his friend Tyler had a new one, about how their teacher Mrs. Patterson said they were learning about dinosaurs next week, about how he wanted pizza for dinner, about everything. The kid didn't have an off switch, and his parents loved it.
Sarah kept looking back at him through the rearview mirror, smiling at his enthusiasm. Marcus kept one hand on the wheel, the other holding Sarah's hand over the center console. Little moments like that, the quiet ones between all of Gary's chatter, those were the ones they cherished.
They didn't know it'd be the last time they'd all be together like this.
When they pulled up to the school, Gary barely waited for the car to stop before he was unbuckling his seatbelt.
"Whoa, whoa, hold up buster!" Marcus said, laughing. "What do you say?"
Gary paused, turned back, and grinned that gap-toothed smile of his. "Love you, Mom! Love you, Dad! See you after school!"
"Love you too, baby! Be good!" Sarah called out.
"Always!" Gary shouted back, already running toward the entrance where his friends were waiting.
Marcus watched him go, that little ball of energy disappearing into the school building. "He's gonna be something when he grows up, you know that?"
"Of course he is," Sarah said softly, squeezing his hand. "He's got the best of both of us."
If she'd known what was coming, she probably would've held that moment longer. Would've watched Gary disappear into the school with more attention, committed every detail to memory. But that's the thing about tragedy, you never see it coming until it's already destroyed everything.
Marcus pulled away from the school, heading toward their store. The drive would take about twenty-five minutes in morning traffic, but they'd done it a thousand times. They talked about inventory, about maybe hiring another part-time employee, about Gary's upcoming birthday in January and what kind of party he'd want. He'd been dropping hints about wanting a PlayStation 3, even though they both knew that was way out of budget.
Normal stuff. Regular, everyday couple stuff that fills the spaces between the important moments.
They were on Route 21, one of those roads that wasn't quite highway but wasn't quite residential either. Two lanes each direction, a median in the middle, and a steep ditch on either side lined with trees. The kind of road you drive every day without thinking twice about it.
Until you have a reason to think about it.
It was 8:47 AM when the Toyota Hilux came swerving into their lane.
Marcus saw it in his peripheral vision first, this massive pickup truck that suddenly wasn't in its lane anymore, weaving like the driver couldn't figure out which side of the road they were supposed to be on. He jerked the wheel right, instinct taking over, trying to avoid it, but the Hilux was still coming, like the driver couldn't see them or didn't care or...
The truck clipped their front left bumper, and at 50 miles per hour, that was all it took.
The Honda Accord spun. Marcus fought the wheel, years of driving experience trying to correct the spin, but physics didn't give a shit about his driving skills. They went sideways, then backward, then they were off the road entirely, and everything became a blur of motion and sound.
Sarah screamed. Marcus shouted something, maybe her name, maybe a curse, maybe just a sound that came from some primal part of his brain that knew they were fucked.
The ditch was deeper than it looked from the road. The kind of ditch that was designed to catch runoff water, not cars. The Accord went nose-first into it, crashing through small trees and brush, the sound of metal crumpling and glass shattering filling the air. The car rolled once, the world turning sideways and upside down, and landed hard on the driver's side.
And then everything was just...
Still.
The Toyota Hilux didn't stop. Later, witnesses would say it swerved back into its lane and just kept going, like nothing had happened. Like it hadn't just ended two lives and destroyed a third.
The driver? some piece of shit named Raymond Stalker was three times over the legal blood alcohol limit at 9 in the goddamn morning. He'd been drinking since the night before and apparently decided to just keep the party going into Tuesday morning. The kind of asshole who thought he was fine to drive because he'd "done it a hundred times before."
He'd be arrested six hours later at his home, passed out in his truck with the front bumper still messed up from where he'd hit the Accord. He'd serve eight years for two counts of vehicular manslaughter, get out on good behavior after six, and probably be driving drunk again within a year of his release.
But Marcus and Sarah McNeish? They didn't have six years. They didn't have six hours.
The impact had been catastrophic. The ditch, the roll, the way the trees had crushed the car's frame, the Accord wasn't built for that kind of crash. Neither were the people inside it.
First responders arrived within twelve minutes of the 911 calls from witnesses. They pulled Marcus out first. His eyes were shut, massive head trauma, internal bleeding that no amount of emergency surgery could fix. Sarah was trapped in the passenger seat, the entire structure of the car collapsed around her, her injuries even worse.
They were both pronounced dead at the scene.
Gary found out during lunch.
He'd been having a great day up until then. He'd shown everyone his Bakugan during show-and-tell, Tyler had shared his fruit snacks with him, and Mrs. Patterson said his drawing of a T-Rex was "very creative" which was teacher-code for "actually pretty good."
Then the principal came to get him.
That was weird because the principal never came to get anyone unless they were in serious trouble. But Gary knew he hadn't done anything wrong. He'd been good all day. Perfect, even.
Mrs. Patterson looked really sad when the principal walked in, which was the first sign that something was wrong. Adults didn't look at you like that unless something bad had happened. The kind of bad that couldn't be fixed with a Band-Aid and a juice box.
They took him to the office. There were two police officers there, and a lady he didn't know who kept calling herself a social worker, whatever that was. They sat him down in a chair that was too big for him, his feet dangling above the floor, and used a lot of words that didn't really make sense to an 8-year-old.
"Accident."
"Your parents."
"So sorry."
"Didn't make it."
Gary didn't cry at first. He just sat there, staring at the wall behind the social worker's head where there was a poster about recycling, not really understanding. His brain couldn't process it. Wouldn't process it. Because if he understood what they were saying, that would make it real, and it couldn't be real.
His parents were supposed to pick him up after school. They were supposed to have dinner together. His dad promised they'd play video games tonight. Mom said she'd make his favorite pasta.
How could they be gone? That didn't make any sense.
It wasn't until he got to the group home that night, because apparently he didn't have any other family who could take him, no aunts or uncles or grandparents, just him, that it really hit him.
He was in a strange room, with a strange bed, surrounded by strange people who kept talking to him in soft voices like he was made of glass. And his mom and dad weren't there. They weren't coming to get him. They weren't going to tuck him in. They weren't going to be there when he woke up tomorrow.
They were never going to be there again.
That's when Gary cried. He cried so hard he made himself sick. He cried until he couldn't cry anymore, until he was just dry-heaving into a trash can while some caretaker he didn't know rubbed his back and said meaningless comforting words that didn't help, didn't change anything.
After that night, something inside Gary just... turned off.
That energetic, bouncing-off-walls kid who couldn't shut up about Bakugan? He disappeared. What was left was a quiet, withdrawn child who barely spoke, who went through the motions of living but didn't really seem present. Like someone had reached inside him and flipped a switch, turning off everything that made him Gary.
Teachers worried. Counselors worried. The people at the group home worried.
But Gary didn't feel much of anything anymore.
...
Life had been very rough growing up after that.
Going to school as somewhat of an oddball was normal for him. Ever since his parents died, he had become quiet. Even Gary himself wasn't sure why. It wasn't a conscious choice, not some decision he made to stop talking. It just... happened. Like his brain decided that speaking required too much energy, and he had none left to spare.
He used to be the literal definition of a kid who was always high on sugar, and maybe a bit of meth. Okay, the last part would be a bit of a stretch, but the point was that he was super energetic and loved to talk to everybody. Teachers, students, the lunch lady, the janitor, Gary had opinions about everything and shared them with anyone who'd listen.
But it was like a switch just flipped inside of him. One day he was all noise and motion, the next he was just... there. Present but not participating.
The teachers at the school he attended started to have him go to the guidance counselor after school ended, so he could have one-on-one sessions. They wanted to see if it could help the child overcome whatever trauma he may be going through, as he had just lost his parents a couple of months prior, and they didn't want that to affect his academics.
Gary thought that was kind of funny, in a dark way. Like his academics were the important part. Like it mattered if he passed his spelling tests when his entire world had just ended. But he went anyway, because what else was he going to do? It wasn't like he had anywhere else to be.
The sessions did help Gary, eventually. Not at first, the first few weeks he just sat there in silence while the guidance counselor, Mrs. Gardner, tried different approaches to get him to open up. She tried asking about school. About his friends. About what he liked to do. About anything, really.
Gary gave one-word answers at best.
But Mrs. Gardner was patient. She didn't push, didn't force him to talk about his parents, didn't treat him like a problem that needed to be solved. She just... listened. Even when he wasn't saying anything, she was there, present, waiting.
It took almost two months before Gary finally started talking.
He told her what had happened to his parents, even though she already knew of that incident. She'd read the file, seen the reports. But she still listened like it was the first time she was hearing it. Gary told her everything about what happened, about the police officers at school, about the group home, about how he was living there because he didn't want to call anyone else his parents.
That was the thing that surprised people. The group home had tried to get him adopted, there were families interested, good families who wanted to give him a home. But Gary refused every single one. He didn't want new parents. He didn't want to pretend like his mom and dad could be replaced with new models, like they were broken appliances you just swapped out.
He'd rather be alone than pretend.
Gary cried during that session. Really cried, not just the silent tears that had become normal for him, but full-body sobbing that he'd been holding back for months. He let out all his emotions, everything he'd bottled up because a child shouldn't be keeping all of these things locked inside.
"Gary, you should have come to me sooner, or even one of your teachers," Mrs. Gardner said softly, pulling him into a hug when the sobs finally subsided into hiccups. "You shouldn't be bottling up such trauma. I'm sure your parents wouldn't want you to do that. I'm sure they'd want you to grow healthy and big and also to live a happy life. So stop crying... smile."
"Sniff THAnK Y-YoU, haha, Miss Gardner Sniff" Gary thanked the guidance counselor while laughing a bit in his tears, the sound wet and broken but genuine.
It wasn't like that one session fixed everything. Gary didn't suddenly go back to being that hyperactive kid from before. That version of him was gone, and there was no getting him back. But he did start to heal, slowly. Started to talk more, engage more. Started to feel like a person again instead of just a ghost going through the motions.
Mrs. Gardner helped him understand that it was okay to be different now. That trauma changes you, and that's not something to be ashamed of. You don't go back to who you were before, you become someone new, someone who's been shaped by what happened but not defined by it.
Gary carried that lesson with him for years.
...
Years went by as Gary grew up, now 23 years old.
He didn't get back that spark he had as a kid when his parents were still around, but he did come out of that slump his emotions had been in. It wasn't some dramatic transformation, no movie moment where everything suddenly clicked into place. It was gradual, incremental, like watching a plant grow, you don't notice the changes day by day, but one day you look and realize it's completely different from where it started.
He made friends throughout his years of going to school. Real friends, not just people he sat next to in class. People who got his sense of humor, who didn't mind that he was quieter than most, who accepted that sometimes he just needed to be left alone and didn't take it personally.
He even had casual relationships with some girls at his high school and the community college he attended. Nothing serious, nothing that lasted more than a few months, but enough to make him feel normal. Like he wasn't completely broken, just... different.
The group home had been rough, but he'd survived it. Aged out at 18 with some money saved from part-time jobs and a determination to make something of himself. He'd gone to community college because it was cheap and he could work while attending. Graduated with an associate's degree in general studies because he still didn't know what the hell he wanted to do with his life.
Now at the apartment where he and a couple of other friends were renting, something was going to happen that would change the way he viewed life.
But as the saying goes, 'Change doesn't come without chaos.'
...
December 1, 2025
Gary had the apartment to himself that afternoon. Jake was at work, Marcus was visiting his girlfriend, and Gary had finally gotten a day off from his soul-crushing call center job. He'd decided to spend it the way any responsible adult would: sleeping in until noon, eating leftover pizza for breakfast, and then doing the bare minimum cleaning required to prevent the apartment from being condemned by the health department.
The kitchen was a disaster zone. Dishes piled in the sink, the trash overflowing, and somehow there was a mysterious stain on the floor that none of them would claim responsibility for. Gary had put on his "cleaning playlist" which was basically just Thousand Foot Krutch and other rock bands from his teenage years, and cranked the volume up.
"🎵🎶Hey-o, here comes the danger up in this club, When we get started, man, we ain't gon' stop, We gon' turn it out 'til it gets too hot, Everybody sing, hey-o, Tell 'em turn it up 'til they can't, no more, Let's get this thing shakin' like a disco ball, This is your last warning, a courtesy call🎶🎵"
The music from 'Thousand Foot Krutch' was blasting throughout the entire apartment as Gary swept the floor with a broom in hand, acting as if it were a guitar while dancing wildly. He was really getting into it, doing the whole rock-star performance thing, complete with headbanging and dramatic poses.
"🎵🎶I am not afraid of the storm that comes my way, When it hits it shakes me to the core, And makes me stronger than before, It's not a question about trust, But will you stand with us? Can you feel it? Make it real... Make me feel it!!!🎵🎶"
Gary spun around, really feeling the music, completely in his own world. This was his thing, losing himself in music, in the moment, forgetting about everything else. The shitty job, the bills, the general mediocrity of his existence. For a few minutes, he could just be.
Unaware to him, water was pooling on the floor under the fridge where the water bucket was most likely filled and was just running over. It had probably been leaking for a while, but the music was too loud for him to hear the dripping, and he was too focused on his performance to notice the puddle spreading across the tile.
And without looking, he stepped into it while dancing.
The thing about death is that it's usually stupid. Not dramatic, not meaningful, just... stupid. People don't die saving children from burning buildings or fighting epic battles. They die slipping in the shower, choking on food, or stepping in puddles while pretending their broom is a guitar.
Unfortunately, luck wasn't on his side that day to save him. You could imagine it as his parents beckoning him from the other side, calling him home so they could be united once more. Some poetic bullshit like that.
Gary's feet went out from under him. He had just enough time to think "fuck me" before the back of his head smashed into the sharp edge of the kitchen countertop.
The impact was immediate and devastating. He didn't even feel the full force of the pain that would have caused if he had still been alive, his brain shutting down too fast for pain receptors to do their job. So yeah, he was still a bit lucky, but not luckier than death.
As Fate and Destiny were Death's baby mommas, and they always got what they wanted in the end.
Gary's body crumpled to the floor, blood pooling around his head, mixing with the water from the leak. The music kept playing, Thousand Foot Krutch still blasting through the apartment speakers, completely indifferent to the fact that their fan had just died in the world's stupidest accident.
His last thought, barely formed before everything went dark, was: Are you fucking kidding me?
Well... Luck is a bitch, that's the reason she ain't even one of death's baby mommas. She spread them legs wide for anybody she took a fancy to, and today she'd decided Gary wasn't her type.
...
Back to the Void
So back to the beginning where we were... In the void.
"I've been here for hours, and all I can see is NOTHING!! Erase me or get me the fuck out of here, whoever owns this place or whatever can hear me. This is worse than hell... at least I think it is...???" Gary scratched his head, or the metaphysical representation of his head, after ranting.
Gary had been in this void for over an hour now, at least he thought it was only a couple of hours. Time was meaningless here. He could've been floating in this darkness for minutes or decades for all he knew. There was no way to tell, nothing to measure against.
"Why, you piece of..."
[Soul # &%*(&00& (AKA: Gary McNeish) you are currently in the Dimension of Balance, this is the place where every soul within every Prime Universe who has died for the FIRST TIME goes to get reincarnated]
[I am the guidance system set in place by the creator to give you your greatest wishes, and to answer some of your questions before you go, that is, if you have any you'd like to ask]
"..." Gary's mind was blank at this moment.
He had died and become a ghost in a realm that was just black; the word 'dark' would have been a gross understatement for this place. This was the type of dark that the more you stare at it, the more you feel uncomfortable, like it was pressing in on you, making your non-existent skin crawl.
But out of nowhere, as he was ranting, a blue screen just popped up in front of him, explaining to him some freaky shit that could only happen on the pages of a webnovel and the overflowing imagination of an author who's been starved of their editor's all-encompassing love.
"Meh, what the hell," Gary said after a moment of processing. "Maybe I'm in a webnovel and everybody is reading about my life right now... now that I really think about it, it does feel a bit creepy, but whatever, they can kiss my hairy ass. Let's see what this is first."
Though he was shocked at first, he wasn't too bothered. Maybe it was because he'd spent so much of his life reading isekai stories and watching anime where people died and got sent to other worlds. Or maybe it was just because he'd already begged for something to erase his existence, though that was out of pure annoyance and caffeine-filled rage, just without the coffee.
Either way, a blue screen offering him wishes? That was practically a normal Tuesday compared to dying by slipping on water while dancing.
"So guide, can you explain to me what you meant by granting me my greatest wish and the thing about Prime Universes and souls? I'm so freaking curious right now."
They say curiosity killed the cat, but Gary was already dead, and he wasn't a cat... plus curiosity wasn't what killed him either. That honor went to water, gravity, and his own stupidity.
[I see you wish to understand the origin of creation before making your choices. A wise approach, Soul #&%*(&00&. Very well, let me illuminate the truths of existence for you.]
[There was a certain time, the Creator whose name has been [R⬛E⬛D⬛A⬛C⬛T⬛E⬛D] from all records for reasons beyond even my comprehension, brought forth what we call the "Prime Universes." Think of them as the original tapestry of existence, a vast multiverse containing countless realities, each one a complete cosmos unto itself.]
[Every soul born naturally within these Prime Universes is what we call a "Prime Soul" a soul that has never known death. You were one such soul, Gary McNeish, born on Earth-Prime-7.843 × 10^9, living, breathing, and existing without ever having crossed the threshold of mortality... until now]
[The Prime Universes operated under a sacred and inviolable rule: They are ONLY for Prime Souls. Those who have never tasted death. The moment you died, Gary, you became forever barred from returning to any Prime Universe. You cannot go back to your Earth. You cannot reincarnate into any other Prime Universe. That door has closed permanently]
[But do not despair, for beyond the Prime Universes lies something far more vast, far more infinite, the Outer Dimensions]
[When Prime Souls die and come here to the Dimension of Balance, their wishes, particularly their placement wishes, CREATE and POPULATE these Outer Dimensions. Every fictional universe you've ever heard of? Every fantasy world, every sci-fi setting, every magical realm? They exist as Outer Dimensions, originally manifested into reality by souls who wished them into being]
[Over countless eons, as billions upon billions of Prime Souls have died and made their wishes, the Outer Dimensions have grown into an incomprehensibly vast network of realities. Some are solitary universes. Others are entire multiverses with their own branching timelines and parallel worlds. Some follow strict laws of physics. Others run on magic, cultivation, or systems beyond mortal comprehension]
[These Outer Dimensions are YOUR domain now, Gary. They are where all souls who have experienced their First Death go to live their second existence]
[Here in the Balance Dimension, every Prime Soul who has experienced their First Death receives what we call "The Reincarnation Package." It consists of three wishes, but the first is special, it is THE foundational wish upon which your new existence will be built]
[Your first wish determines WHERE and HOW in the Outer Dimensions you will reincarnate. Your options include:]
• You may choose any existing Outer Dimension that has already been created by previous souls. This includes every fictional universe you've ever read about, watched, or heard of, Naruto, Marvel, DC, Warhammer, Dungeons & Dragons, cultivation worlds, LitRPG dimensions, isekai realms. If you can name it, if you've consumed media about it, it likely exists as an Outer Dimension now, made real by souls who wished to go there before you
• You may CREATE an entirely new Outer Dimension from your imagination. Design every aspect of it, the laws of physics, magic systems, power scaling, geography, inhabitants, history, everything. You will be the founding soul of this new reality, and it will continue to exist even after you leave it (through death or other means)
• You may create a copy of your original Earth from the Prime Universe as an Outer Dimension, with or without memories of your previous life, with or without changes you'd like to make to it. Though it won't be THE Prime Earth you left behind, it can be functionally identical
• You may even choose to enter an Outer Dimension that is a fusion of multiple fictional universes or concepts, a crossover reality of your own design
[The moment you make this wish and commit to it, that Outer Dimension becomes your new home, the reality that will govern your existence]
[Once you've determined your placement, you receive two additional wishes. These can be ANYTHING within the scope of personal empowerment or capability. Want immortality? Done. Want an ability to manipulate reality itself? Within your new dimension's laws, granted. Want to be reborn as a god-level entity? Acceptable. Want a perfect memory? The physique of a demigod? A system that makes you stronger with every action? All possible]
[The only limitation is that these wishes cannot destroy the Balance Dimension itself, and cannot grant you power to override the Creator's fundamental laws, but beyond that? Your imagination is your only limit]
[Now, Gary, here comes the part you must understand clearly, for it carries weight that will follow you into eternity]
[You have died once. You are here. You will make your wishes and be reincarnated into an Outer Dimension. This is your SECOND CHANCE at existence]
[But if you die again, a Second Death, there is no returning to this place. No third chance. No additional wishes]
[What happens instead depends entirely on the Outer Dimension you chose for your placement:]
• If the Outer Dimension you wished yourself into has its own reincarnation system, like how some fictional universes have their own afterlives, soul cycles, or resurrection mechanics, then you will be subjected to THAT system. You'll follow their rules, play by their cosmic laws. You might reincarnate endlessly within that dimension, or face judgment, or be sent to that universe's version of heaven or hell. Your fate becomes bound to that reality's natural order
• However, if the Outer Dimension you chose has NO reincarnation system, if death is simply THE END in that reality, then you will experience True Death. Your soul will disperse. You will return to the Void of Non-Existence, the state before the Creator made the first Prime Soul. No consciousness. No dreams. No "you." Just... nothing. Forever
[This is why your first wish is so crucial, Gary. You're not just choosing where to live, you're choosing the rules that will govern your existence, potentially for eternity. Choose an Outer Dimension with a favorable afterlife system, and your Second Death might simply be another transition. Choose one where death is final, and your Second Death will be your absolute end]
[This system has existed for longer than measurable time. Trillions upon trillions of Prime Souls have died and made their wishes, creating and populating the Outer Dimensions. Some of those souls have died Second Deaths and ceased to exist. Others continue living in dimensions with reincarnation cycles, dying and being reborn within their chosen reality again and again, forever cut off from the Balance Dimension but continuing their existence nonetheless]
[The Prime Universes remain pure and untouched, populated only by Prime Souls who have never died. But the Outer Dimensions? They are wild, infinite, and filled with souls like you, souls seeking second chances, grand adventures, ultimate power, or simple peace]
[You might wonder why this system exists at all. The truth is, the Dimension of Balance was created as a gift, or perhaps a mercy, from the Creator. It ensures that every Prime Soul, no matter how they lived or died, receives at least one chance to choose their own destiny, to pursue their dreams unfettered by the random circumstances of their first birth. The Creator's message is clear: "You did not choose your first life, but you will choose your second."]
[Some souls use this opportunity to seek power in battle-shonen universes. Others seek peace in pastoral fantasy worlds. Some want adventure in dimensions they once only dreamed of. And others create entirely new realities to give them challenges and a purpose, or even to rule as gods]
[Now, Soul #&%*(&00&, formerly known as Gary McNeish:]
[You understand the rules. You understand the stakes. You understand the opportunity before you]
[It is time to make your wishes]
[What kind of Outer Dimension do you wish to be placed in for your reincarnation?]
[What is your second wish?]
[What is your third wish?]
[Speak them clearly, and I shall weave reality itself to accommodate your desires. Your new existence awaits]