The apocalypse had already broken out, yet in those moments, we were walking happily down Istiklal Street. We had done something that even the bravest would avoid—something that went against the most unlikely opponent.
The man beside me, who had been trying to ram his head into my chest like a charging phaeton, suddenly vanished. The shock of that moment quickly turned into fear as the same thing started happening all around me. People disappeared without warning. Just as panic began to grip me, the feeling faded away. I found myself suffocating, then opening my eyes to see a place surrounded by pure white.
I looked around frantically. There were no walls, but the endless white space felt like a transparent cage. Just as I was about to lose hope, a cough sounded right next to my ear. I turned sharply and saw a being that hadn't been there a second ago—now floating mere inches from my face.
"It's time for reckoning, mortal!"
I knew what was happening, but still, a tiny voice deep in my mind tried to deny it, like a stubborn weed in a quiet garden. This was the moment I lost all hope. The strange creature before me had no flesh or bone, no fixed shape—just a swirling, shifting form. And yet, ironically, it clung to existence, the very thing it had denied at first. How strange fear makes one desperate for anything to hold on to.
The creature hovered in the air. Though it had no mouth, its voice echoed clearly in my mind, vibrating like a bell.
"Mortal, your sins and good deeds will be weighed. Whichever outweighs the other will decide your fate."
So, here I was, standing at the edge of everything, about to face the end. What had I done with my short life? The vision of my deeds flashed before me—every action, every choice, and their consequences.
When it ended, I was back in the same white space, facing the formless being. Words failed me in shock. It would be a while before I heard the final judgment—the true blow.
"Mortal, until last night, your good deeds were enough to bring you to the lower layers of heaven. But you committed many sins on the eve of Judgment Day!"
For a moment, my vision darkened and my ears buzzed louder than a swarm of mosquitoes waking you up at midnight. Then came the crushing words: sin and goodness had balanced out, leaving me on the edge. I almost died from the tension.
I knew that phrase was old and meaningless to most, but once your tongue learns to say it, you can't help but make excuses to save face.
"If you hadn't taken that last drink, you would have had the right to mingle with the Creator's beloved servants after a short stay in purgatory. But that final cup comes at a heavy price!"
"MUHARREMMMMM BIIGGG BROOOOOO!"
I was ranting about Muharrem's stubbornness and my farewell celebration, but the vision faded, and I slipped into a heavy, motionless sleep, as if covered by my grandmother's thick quilt.
All my hopes, all the dreams I had worked so hard to build—my visa, my language school—had evaporated. And the worst part? I missed the jackpot by just one step. When I finally opened my eyes, my body ached as if I had been beaten, confusion clouding my senses.
I tried to move my hand, but it felt frozen, like a fish trapped in ice. A voice echoed in my mind, repeating three words like a broken record: "First Floor of Hell."
I don't know how long I stayed in that frozen state. Slowly, I regained control and started to sit up. Around me were others like me—some half-risen, some still on the ground—staring at me with surprise.
Once I fully recovered my energy and senses, I jumped to my feet. Things were clearer now. After a quick assessment, I could roughly understand what was happening.
The first thing I noticed: everyone, without exception, had a name written on their forehead. I tried calling out to a few people, but they didn't respond. Still, I was determined to communicate—any information about this place could help me.
"Max, brother, look, Max!"
My focus was broken by a shout right into my ear. Well, calling it an ear was generous—he was so close, barely a shoulder's height behind me, and his belly looked like a ring-shaped candy in his twenties.
"Max, what, bro? You're standing right behind me. Open up a little!"
Clearly, he had no concept of personal space. I snapped at him without caring about his red, plump cheeks from my irritation.
"It's on your head, bro. I thought it was your name. I was about to ask what mine says."
I couldn't be the only one with strange writing, so I mentally labeled myself Max too—but why did this odd word replace my real name?
That was my first real shock. No matter how hard I tried, my real name refused to come to mind. My memories before death were fragmented—faces, moments, all jumbled except for the last night. Even amidst this haze, one detail stood out like a seal on my mind: Muharrem.
"Toraman is written on you, brother!"
When I told the chubby kid what his label said, his face fell instantly. He took a deep breath, and his large, car-sized body seemed even more imposing. For a moment, he looked dangerous even to me.
But what I expected didn't happen. The gasping boy collapsed to the ground, slowly calming and eventually falling asleep. The boy named Toraman, who I'd imagined would shout wildly and attack anyone, lay peacefully resting.
This strange event cost me some time but taught me a crucial lesson. From now on, I knew that whenever someone called "Max," they meant me—because that was my name in this new world.
Returning to my observations, I noticed a dome-like structure of four colors arching over the area—yellow, green, blue, and red. We were all inside this giant, colorful bell.
Soon, my attention was caught by small, one-story buildings in the center. I ran toward them eagerly.
I already knew I was in hell. Childhood teachings told me I was about to suffer endlessly, so I shouldn't rush. Yet, for some reason, every second felt precious.
The buildings weren't far—under normal conditions, a minute or two away. But it took longer because I had to weave through hundreds of people in between.
When I reached the spot, I saw small circular huts with benches on one side and a stone pillar in the center, carved with inscriptions on all four sides.
Now I understood—this place, with its shield-like structures and central stone monument, was unmistakably the classic starting village of an MMORPG.