The transition from the world of the living to… whatever this was, didn't feel like falling asleep. Its like drifting into a dream or a peaceful fade to black.
One moment, I was Aryan—seventeen years old, a top student in New Delhi, with a pen behind my ear and the metallic taste of blood in my mouth. I remembered the scorching heat of the Indian sun, the roar of a transport truck's engine, and the terrifying, final crunch of my ribs as they collapsed under the weight of five tons of steel. Then, the world simply blinked out of existence.
Now, there was nothing. No body. No weight. No breath.
I was a point of consciousness drifting in a sea of absolute ink. It was a sensory-deprivation nightmare. I tried to scream, but I had no throat. I tried to reach out to touch my face, but I had no hands. I was just a collection of memories and thoughts floating in a silent, suffocating vacuum.
Am I dead? Is this it? The great beyond is just a dark room with no exit? Fear started to claw at the edges of my mind. I thought of Guru ji who might be waiting for me ,Rahul and Sameer—the momos we were supposed to eat. Was I just going to float here forever, replaying my final seconds on that Delhi road?
Suddenly, a spark ignited in the far distance.
In this world of nothing, even a tiny speck of light was like a supernova. It hung there for a moment, a lonely star in the dark, and then it began to move. It didn't just drift; it accelerated toward me with a speed that defied logic. The light grew, expanding until it wasn't just a spark anymore—it was a tide of blinding, radiant energy that swallowed the darkness.
Is that… a tara? A star? The thought flickered through me. No, why is it getting closer? Shit, am I about to die in the afterlife too?
I tried to pull away, but in this form, I had no direction. The light was upon me now, so intense that it felt like it was peeling away the layers of my soul. And then, the brilliance stabilized. The light didn't just blind me; it took shape.
It wasn't a star. It was standing upright.
My mind struggled to process the scale of what I was seeing. The figure was humanoid, but it was massive—comparable to a three-story building. It was composed of pure, shifting radiance that looked like liquid starlight. The Being stood there, casually placing its hands on its hips, looking down at me as if I were a bug it had just found on its porch.
"Oh," a voice spoke.
It didn't come from a mouth. It resonated directly inside my consciousness, a strange, layered harmony of male and female tones that sounded like a thousand bells ringing at once.
"So you're the human I ordered. I can't see anything special in you."
Ordered? The word sparked a sudden, sharp irritation that cut through my fear. Ordered? Did this glowing giant just call me a delivery? Am I a basket of vegetables or some food delivered to his door? I had always imagined meeting a God to be a grand, spiritual event. I thought there would be a judgment, or a wise old man with a beard, or at least some dignity. But this being was muttering and rambling as if he were inspecting a package from an online store and found the packaging slightly dented.
"Well," the Being continued, ignoring my internal protest. "At least the conditions are fulfilled. I asked for an otaku who knows the universe I'm sending him into. A normal person—not a cold, empty machine like that previous one. So, human... do you accept to Reincarnate?"
I was caught in a whirlwind of overthinking. A cold machine? Is he talking about someone else? And what does he mean by 'ordered'? Is he going to eat me? I had read enough stories to know about R.O.B.s (Random Omnipotent Beings), but this guy didn't feel like a benevolent granter of wishes. He felt devious. He felt like he was looking at me like a snack.
But then, he said the word: Reincarnate.
That one word changed everything. My previous life—the isolation, the grinding effort to be "perfect" just to have a chance at a future, the lonely nights—it all felt so heavy. I had died a hero, and I didn't want to go back to being that lonely kid in Delhi. If this being was offering a second chance, I wasn't going to let my overthinking stop me.
"So… where are you going to reincarnate me?" I didn't feel my mouth move, but the intent projected outward. Juding by the way I spoke without a body, it felt like telepathy.
The Being stopped his muttering and looked down, his light pulsing with mild amusement. "You're quite excited, human," he said. "Well, there's no need for suspense. It's a world where school kids fight more than they study. A world where looks define your fate, and strength decides your future. It's the PTJ Universe—written by your world's author, Park Tae-jun. And you... you get to choose your own character."
The PTJ Universe. My soul practically sang. I knew that world. I knew the hierarchies, the mastery, and the hidden monsters. I knew the cards and the systems.
"Okay," I said, my "voice" full of seriousness. "I want to become Daniel Park."
" YOU CAN'T," the Being replied flatly.
"What? But you said I could choose!"
I knew it. This bastard is toying with me. He's probably just waiting for me to get my hopes up before he eats me for dinner.
"You cannot become the protagonist of Lookism, Questism, or any other story," the Being explained, his tone casual yet absolute. "And you cannot choose any of the 'Strong' characters who were already monsters before the story began. No Gun Park, no Goo Kim, no Johan Seong, no James Lee. Choose someone who wasn't strong before the storyline began. Do this, and I will give you a wish."
The Being's light flickered. Internally, he thought: I can't give him grand world-shaking wishes like the Greater Gods, but I can at least give him a little candy based on his karma.
I went silent, my mind racing through the database of the PTJ world. I needed someone with a high ceiling. Someone who had the potential to be the strongest, but started as a "nobody."
I thought about it for a long time. If I couldn't be the hero, I would be the one who surpassed him.