Pitch black.
Sirens screamed in the distance, sharp and frantic, cutting through the chaos like knives. Somewhere nearby, boots pounded against concrete.
"Get an ambulance ASAP!" a field medic shouted, his voice strained.
Jake couldn't see anything. He could barely breathe. His chest felt tight, like something heavy was crushing him from the inside. Every breath came out as a painful gasp.
A policeman's voice followed, cold and professional.
"Target detained."
Pain exploded through his body—sudden, overwhelming—and then everything vanished.
Pitch black again.
The sound of metal clanking echoed faintly, distant and hollow. A long sigh followed, not his own.
"Time of death: 14:23."
Excessive bleeding.
The words didn't make sense at first.
Time of death…?
Jake's thoughts felt slow, like they were sinking through thick water.
What do they mean… time of death?
A terrifying realization crept in.
Am I… dead?
His eyes opened.
Blinding white flooded his vision.
Jake instinctively tried to shield his eyes, but his hands felt strange—light, almost unreal. He sat up abruptly.
"What place is this…?" he muttered.
Everywhere he looked was white. Endless. Empty. No walls. No ceiling. No floor that he could truly see—just a glowing expanse that stretched on forever.
And then it hit him.
"Why am I… naked?!"
His voice echoed faintly, swallowed by the light.
He started walking. Or at least, he thought he was walking. Time passed—minutes, maybe longer—but he never bumped into anything. No walls. No obstacles. Nothing except that same blinding whiteness.
Then a voice spoke.
Faint. Distant.
"Are you going to keep him in there forever?"
Jake froze.
Voices?
They were muffled, like people talking behind a thick wall, but they were getting clearer. Louder.
That means… they're coming closer.
His instincts screamed at him to be careful.
Whoever they are… this feels important.
But the silence was suffocating.
"…Ah, damn it," he muttered.
He took a deep breath and shouted.
"OVER HEEEEERE!"
The sound echoed endlessly.
A loud cranking noise followed, like massive gears turning. The air itself seemed to shift.
"Don't keep him waiting," another voice said casually. "I'll be back to check on you. Make sure you're doing your job."
The presence faded.
Someone else stepped forward.
Jake swallowed.
"Hello…?"
A figure appeared before him.
She was beautiful—no, divine. Her presence alone made his chest feel tight, like the air had suddenly become heavier.
"I'll be in charge of your death and reincarnation procedures," she said calmly.
Jake stared.
"…What?"
She continued as if this was the most normal thing in the world.
"So. What power would you like when you go into World 1107?"
His mind short-circuited.
"W-Wait—what?"
"Before that," she added, glancing at something invisible, "full name."
"Jake," he said automatically. "Jake Miller."
She nodded.
"Time of death: 14:23. Cause of death—"
She paused.
"—stabbed by biological father."
Jake's breath caught.
"…Come again?"
The goddess repeated it, completely unfazed.
"Cause of death: stabbed to death by your biological father."
The words felt unreal.
Even though he hated me… I didn't think he'd kill me.
Memories flooded back.
His mother had died giving birth to him. His father never forgave him for it. Every glare, every harsh word, every silent meal—it all made sense now.
The hatred had been there all along.
So this is how it ends…
Or maybe—
No.
Jake exhaled slowly.
This is a new world.
The goddess tilted her head.
"Are you going to choose a power, or—"
"Yeah," Jake interrupted. "I'll choose."
He clenched his fists.
"I want infinite success."
She raised an eyebrow.
"Reason?"
"I had zero of it in my last life."
A brief silence followed.
"Very well," she said. "According to standard procedures, you will be teleported to the other world with no assets, no fame, and no prior influence."
She turned away.
"Process complete. Enjoy your life in World 1107."
Cloth rustled.
Footsteps.
Then—
Thud.
Jake hit the ground hard.
"GODDESS?!"