Chapter 1
In the single heartbeat it took for my eyes to snap open, I felt it—a sensation so alien it defied logic. The gnawing ache in my joints, the heavy tightness in my muscles, the constant throbbing in my skull, and the agonizing weight of a ninety-year-old body... all of it had vanished. It was as if the frailty of old age had never belonged to me.
Am I in Heaven? I wondered. I had lived my full ninety years in the human world before drawing my final breath. To feel this vibrant, this alive—surely, this had to be the afterlife.
But my assumption was shattered the moment I sat up. I wasn't in a golden paradise; I was on a crude wooden bed in a room crafted by hands that weren't quite human. The space was sparse, containing only the bed and a study table cluttered with books written in an incomprehensible script.
Then, my gaze fell upon my arms. I froze. My skin wasn't skin at all; it was covered in fine, iridescent scales, shimmering like those of a deep-sea fish. I lunged toward a mirror hanging on the wall, and my breath hitched.
Two massive fangs protruded from my mouth, curling upward past my lips. My eyes glowed with a piercing green light, like twin emerald lanterns. My hair was a cascading waterfall of snow-white silk, so long it brushed against my ankles. My skin had taken on a light brown hue, and my ears were elongated, tapering into sharp points.
My physique was humanoid—one nose, two arms, two legs—but when I looked down, the shock intensified. There were no human private parts, and I wore no clothes. My entire body was seamlessly encased in that strange, scaly hide.
"Is this... a dream?" I gripped my face with both hands, feeling the sharp edges of my fangs. "No. It's too real. I was a ninety-year-old man who died. So where am I? What world is this?"
I stumbled toward the study table and grabbed a book. To my surprise, despite the strange symbols, I could read it perfectly. The title was Blood and War. As I flipped through the pages, my eyes widened in horror.
"This can't be..." I whispered. This was a world where a vengeful God was at war with his own creation. The inhabitants were using forbidden powers to survive the onslaught of a divine army. But why would a God hunt his own children? And where did I fit into this cosmic slaughter?
I slammed the book shut. On the back cover, etched in bold letters, was the name of this realm: Trash World.
I didn't know why it was called that, or how I had ended up here. In my past life, I was Hakariy, a man who had struggled for years just to get a job as a trash incinerator. I had lived a full life—a wife, two daughters, a son. I had seen the worst of times before finding peace. At ninety, a heart attack had claimed me. But instead of the promised paradise, my soul had been shoved into the body of a creature known as a Waltu.
I walked to the window and pulled back the tattered curtains. The sight made my jaw drop. As far as the eye could see, there was nothing but mountains of garbage. The air was thick with the pungent, sweet rot of waste.
"This... this looks exactly like the filth humans leave behind," I muttered, grimacing.
But then, something shifted inside me. As the scent of the trash reached my nostrils, a primal, ravenous hunger began to claw at my stomach. The more I looked at the garbage, the more my mouth watered. I slapped my own face hard. "Snap out of it, Hakariy! Why the hell are you craving trash?"
Across the street, I saw another creature—another Waltu—crouched over a pile of refuse, devouring it with gusto. Seeing him eat broke my resolve. My mind went blank. Drool leaked from my lips as I sprinted out of the house like a madman, diving into the heap beside him.
My God... I thought as I stuffed a handful of waste into my mouth. This tastes... incredible. Better than any feast I had as a human.
"320! Get the hell away from here!" the other Waltu growled, shoving me back. "This is my pile!"
I was too far gone to listen, lost in the euphoria of the rot. He shoved me again, harder this time, and I tumbled backward, landing right at the feet of a tall, remarkably beautiful Waltu.
This new figure reached down, steadying me and helping me stand. "Waltu 320," he said, his voice calm but firm. "Weren't you and your team supposed to be on border patrol today? Why are you still here, scavenging like a stray?"
I froze. 320? Is that my name now? Do I have to follow orders in this body?
I quickly lowered my head, trying to play along. "I... I understand, sir. I'm sorry. Could you... point me toward my team?"
The beautiful Waltu narrowed his eyes. "Strange. You've forgotten your own team? Well, I suppose memory loss is becoming a plague among the Waltus lately." He turned to the other creature who was still eating. "Stop stuffing your face and lead 320 to his team. Now!"
The other Waltu immediately stood up, bowing low. "Yes, sir. Right away." He turned to me with a grunt. "Follow me, 320."
I followed him in silence until we reached a desolate border outpost. My team was waiting. As soon as I came into view, a female Waltu pounced on me with terrifying speed. I wasn't prepared. She pinned me down, her grip like iron, and leaned close to my ear.
"You're late again, 320," she whispered, her voice a chilling hiss. "You're going to have to pay for this... with your blood."
I went cold. Not because of the threat, but because of the voice. She sank her long fangs into my neck, beginning to draw blood, but I didn't even feel the pain.
That voice... my mind screamed in realization. It's her. No... it can't be!