---
Chapter 4: A Soul Worth Saving
The old man sipped his tea in silence, watching me with eyes that held stars and centuries.
"So… are you a god?" I finally asked, floating awkwardly like a lost balloon.
He raised one brow. "Technically? Yes. Formally? Also yes. But I prefer 'Kiran.' The God of Transitions."
"Transitions?"
"Endings. Beginnings. Rebirths. Paperwork. I get all the fun stuff."
He set his cup down on the floating table. "I watched your death, Ray."
"You did?" I blinked. "Was it… embarrassing?"
"Deeply."
I groaned.
"But," he said gently, "your life was not."
A screen formed beside him—an actual golden movie screen made of cloud mist and time dust. Images flickered across it.
I saw myself handing a homeless man my only jacket. Helping an old woman cross a street in Mumbai rain. Sitting beside my best friend after he lost his mom. Teaching neighborhood kids how to fix bicycles. Standing up to a teacher when she unfairly punished a shy student.
Scene after scene. Tiny things. Quiet kindnesses.
"I wasn't perfect," I said softly.
"No one is," Kiran replied. "But you were good. Genuinely good. In a world where everyone is obsessed with more—money, love, power—you chose to give."
I looked away.
He stood up and walked to the edge of the floating island.
"I don't often interfere. There are rules. But sometimes…" He waved his hand, opening a golden portal of pure light and warmth. "A soul deserves more."
My heart—or whatever I had left of one—shook.
"I'm giving you a second life. In a peaceful world. No demons. No wars. No system wars or divine gambling. Just… peace. Family. Growth."
My eyes widened. "Seriously?"
"And a gift."
He pointed upward. Glowing symbols rained down gently from the sky. Five class tokens.
"In this new world, you'll awaken with the potential to unlock five classes over time. Choose wisely."
I stared at the portal.
"Wait… before I go—"
"Yes?"
"Can I… explore this place a little? The God Realm?"
Kiran paused.
"No one's asked that before."
"I mean… how often do you get a backstage pass to divinity?"
He burst out laughing. "True."
He clicked his fingers.
A small flash of white exploded beside us.
Out popped a 3-foot-tall creature with silver skin, long rabbit ears, sunglasses, and a clipboard.
"Yo! You rang, boss?"
"This," Kiran said with a grin, "is Ploop. Your guide."
"…That's his actual name?"
"Short for Plurphitoot," Ploop said, striking a pose. "But my friends call me Ploop. I used to be a chaos elemental. Now I do tours."
"You look like a rejected mascot for an energy drink."
"Thank you! That was actually my second job."
---
[God Realm Exploration Begins]
Ploop zipped through the air like a caffeine-powered drone. I floated after him, still confused, still soul-y, still unsure how my afterlife had turned into a fever dream.
First stop: the Divine Market.
"Here's where gods trade belief," Ploop explained. "See that one?" He pointed at a bearded god holding a giant taco. "He's the God of Spicy Regret. Gets prayers every Saturday night."
Another god sold self-help books: Manifesting Followers for Dummies.
One floated in a giant glass of wine. "I'm the Goddess of Ladies' Night!"
I blinked. "Are all gods like this?"
"Some are serious," Ploop shrugged. "But immortality gets really boring."
---
Next stop: Shrine Showroom.
"Every time a mortal builds a shrine, it appears here!" Ploop pointed at a vast field of tiny buildings.
I saw a cat-shaped shrine with tuna at its altar. Another was just a hole in the dirt labeled, "To Whom It May Concern."
"Are… are people even trying?"
"Nope!"
---
Eventually, we reached a balcony overlooking the Core.
Below us, the Central Star pulsed—a divine heart of the universe.
"This is where new gods are born," Ploop said, serious for the first time. "When a concept is believed in enough… it becomes real."
A tiny spark floated up.
"Is that…?"
"Newborn God of Mild Annoyance."
We watched it form—a twitchy little deity muttering, "Someone took my charger. AGAIN."
------
Chapter 5: Among the Gods
"You ever wonder if gods get bored?" I asked, watching the tiny God of Mild Annoyance try to unplug a celestial charger from the wall.
Ploop hovered beside me, chewing a floating gum bubble that popped into confetti. "Constantly. That's why the dramatic ones create plagues. Or religions. Or MLMs."
"You mean multi-level—"
"Gods need hobbies too."
We floated across a swirling bridge of light that curved like a Mobius strip. The God Realm was still incomprehensible. Every direction had stars, doors, screams, parties, and serenity—depending on where I looked.
But now… we were going to meet some real gods.
"Okay," Ploop clapped. "Time to meet the cool ones. Not the dramatic, 'I-am-the-fire-in-your-soul' types. Actual friends."
"You have friends?" I teased.
"Legally speaking, no," he replied. "But some pity me."
We stopped at a floating garden where sheep grazed on grass made of dreams.
There, leaning against a golden tree, was a young man in flowing robes, holding a wooden crook and blowing on a pan flute.
His sheep blinked at me. One licked my soul.
"Ray," Ploop announced grandly, "meet Lemiel, God of Shepherds."
Lemiel looked up, smiled lazily. "Welcome. Don't mind Baal. He likes licking souls."
"Do you always hang out with sheep?" I asked, cautiously wiping ectoplasm off my arm.
"Do you always ask dumb questions?" Lemiel smiled. "Kidding. Sort of."
"I like him," I muttered to Ploop.
"He's like that," Ploop said. "Zen. Peaceful. Kinda terrifying when he gets angry, though. Once turned a demon into wool."
Lemiel chuckled, playing a low tune. A sheep exploded into confetti.
I stepped back. "Noted."
---
We moved on to a mechanical tower held up by gears that churned reality. Inside, thousands of books floated mid-air.
"Welcome to the Archive of Systems," Ploop said, flying upward. "Home to… Myra."
A woman in silver armor stood at a console, typing on something that looked like a mix between a supercomputer and a typewriter.
Her eyes glowed. Her presence hummed with power.
"Ray," Ploop said. "Meet Myra, Goddess of Systems and Structure."
She turned, analyzing me with an expression halfway between a scientist and a bored gamer.
"You died at seventeen," she stated.
"Yeah."
"No criminal record. Zero relationship experience. Minor anxiety issues. Subclinical depression. Modest academic performance. Above-average moral compass. Mmm." She tapped a key. "You're fascinating."
"I am?"
"You're… rare," she said, pausing. "Kind in a cruel world. Obsolete, yet valuable. Like an old calculator that can still do magic."
"...Thank you?"
She offered a rare smile. "We should run a compatibility model. You'd make a good support character."
Lemiel wandered in. "He's already my sheep."
"I'm not a sheep," I said flatly.
"You look like a sheep," Ploop said. "Soft. Kinda lost."
"I have edge."
"You cried when Baal licked you."
---
We continued.
At a bar made of meteorite stone, a booming voice called out, "Fresh blood!"
A giant man, muscles stacked like mountains, poured glowing beer into a floating mug. His beard was braided with lightning.
"I am Valkar, God of First Blood, Combat, and Men Who Refuse Directions."
He slapped me on the back. My soul flickered.
"Err—Hi," I coughed. "You uh… punch things?"
"Everything."
"He's like a Labrador with rage issues," Ploop whispered.
"Wanna arm wrestle, boy?" Valkar grinned.
"I don't have arms."
"Then I win."
---
At a quiet library of wind chimes and stardust scrolls, we met Silien, Goddess of Forgotten Dreams.
She barely spoke—just offered me a scroll that showed a dream I had at age five: where I was a dragon made of chocolate.
"You remembered that?" I asked.
She nodded, then gave me a thumbs-up.
"…She's my favorite," I whispered.
---
That day—or whatever counted as a day in a timeless realm—I walked with gods.
We joked, talked, watched stars get born and gods argue over chess.
They told me stories of mortals who became legends, and gods who fell because they forgot why they started.
Lemiel leaned on his staff as we sat near a lake that reflected your truest self.
"Gods," he said, "aren't just born from belief. Some… evolve. Rise."
I blinked. "Wait. You mean someone like me—"
"Could become one?" he smiled. "Yes. If they grow enough."
Myra chimed in. "Growth isn't just power. It's purpose. Meaning. You matter because you choose to."
Valkar tossed a star into the lake. "Enough philosophy. Let him drink immortal beer!"
"I'm underage."
"You're dead," Ploop said. "There are no laws here."
I took the mug. Sipped.
Tasted like mango, starlight, and hope.
"I don't want to forget this," I murmured.
"You won't," Lemiel promised. "This realm remembers those worth remembering."
---
As I laid back on the soft clouds that night, eyes staring at constellations shaped like ironic memes, I realized something.
I wasn't scared anymore.
Not of life. Not of death. Not of what came next.
Because… for once, I felt seen.
And not by algorithms or metrics.
But by beings who mattered.
---Chapter 6: The Wrong Door to Destiny
The Divine Realm had no clocks, but apparently, it still ran on a schedule.
Kiran appeared out of nowhere while I was arm-wrestling the Shepherd God and losing badly (turns out divine sheep give buff auras). Ploop hovered beside us, sipping a can labeled "Eternal Energy – Now with Extra Afterlife!"
"It's time," Kiran said gently.
I glanced at my new god-friends. We'd spent the last... eternity? Day? Who knows—divine time is weird. But I'd laughed more here than I ever did back on Earth.
I let go of the Shepherd God's massive hand—hoof?—and stood.
"You sure?" I asked.
He nodded. "If you wait too long, your soul becomes... sticky. Doesn't reincarnate well. You'd start growing divine moss."
Ploop held up a chart: "Stages of Soul Spoilage". The last stage just said, "Sentient Carpet."
"...Right. No carpets."
Kiran turned, and with a casual flick of his fingers, summoned the Rebirth Portals.
They rose from the ground like divine geysers—massive rings of swirling color, each one pulsing with raw purpose. There were four:
Golden, like sunlight made solid.
Red, like magma and blood and urgent warning signs.
Blue, like dreamstuff and deep oceans.
Green, soft and humming, like spring rain and growing things.
Each portal crackled with divine energy, ancient magic, and faint background music that suspiciously sounded like elevator jazz.
Kiran stepped forward. His tone turned formal.
"Ray. Each portal represents a path of rebirth, though only one was made for you."
He pointed.
"Gold: A peaceful life. Family. Growth. The one I chose for you."
"Red: War. Fire. Pain. A world of chaos, still ruled by primal laws."
"Blue: Mystery. Magic. Rebirth with knowledge but little power."
"Green: Harmony. Beastkind. Nature's chosen life."
I stared.
"I feel like I'm in an RPG and forgot to save."
Ploop nodded solemnly. "This is why we recommend reading the Terms & Conditions of Rebirth. Page 749 explains this part."
"No one reads those, Ploop."
"Exactly. That's how the God of Fine Print keeps his job."
Kiran smiled at me, soft and proud.
"Go on. Say your goodbyes."
I turned to the god-friends I'd made:
Shepherd God, who gave sheep-themed wisdom and weirdly good hugs.
Lania, the Goddess of Minor Miracles, who made toast always land butter-side up.
Thorn, the sarcastic God of Systems, who used to be a failed dungeon core.
Kellon, the God of Forgotten Songs, who spoke in haikus and hummed the background music of life.
"Ray," Thorn said, adjusting his leather jacket (yes, gods wear those), "you're one of the good ones. Here—take this."
He flicked a small cube into my hand. It pulsed.
"It's an Access Node. It might reconnect you to a System... or crash your afterlife. Fun either way."
"Wow, heartfelt."
Lania stepped forward and kissed my forehead. "For luck. And slightly better eyebrows in your next life."
Shepherd God handed me a wooden bead. "For protection. From things that don't like sheep."
"...That's oddly specific."
"It'll make sense one day."
Kellon just sang, softly:
> "The soul flows forward
Wrapped in gold, torn by red light
Sing, even in pain."
I blinked. "That's either really hopeful or a prophecy that ends in fire."
"Yes."
Kiran clapped his hands. "Blessings given. Now—go, Ray."
I stepped toward the Golden Portal. It hummed as I approached, warm and welcoming.
I looked back one last time.
"Thank you. For… everything."
Kiran smiled.
"Live well, Ray."
The gods raised their hands. Divine light surrounded me. The golden energy touched my soul—
Then the world exploded.
The portal hissed. Sparks flew. Something yanked.
I didn't step through the golden gate.
I fell sideways.
Into the Red Portal.
"Wait—WAIT—THIS ONE'S NOT MINE—"
Too late.
The world turned crimson.
Screaming wind. Flames licking the edges of my soul. Screeching metal and war drums pounding like thunder. I tumbled through the void, my spiritual form cracking like glass under pressure.
A voice echoed:
> "SOUL TRAJECTORY OFF-COURSE."
"ERROR. ERROR. REALM MISMATCH. DAMAGE DETECTED."
Pain bloomed.
Not physical. Not emotional.
Existential.
My soul itself splintered, part of it burning off like smoke.
"AAAAAAAGH—!"
> "Rebooting."
"System Override Detected. Redirecting… redirecting…"
The world went black.
---
To Be Continued…---
Chapter 7: Panic in the Heavens, Silence in the Womb
"WHO THE HELL INSTALLED RED PORTAL NEXT TO GOLD!?"
Thorn, God of Systems, was not screaming. He was… projecting. Very loudly. Possibly with thunderbolts shooting out of his eyes.
Ploop had exploded. Not literally, but close. His gelatinous body was quivering so fast he looked like a divine Jell-O mold in an earthquake.
Kiran, for once, was silent.
He stood frozen, eyes locked on the massive red portal, now pulsing with unnatural light. The golden portal sputtered, dimmed, and went poof like a birthday candle.
Ray… was gone.
Not gone-gone. Just… wrong-portal gone.
"Okay. Okay. Deep breath," said Lania, pacing with a burnt clipboard. "We can fix this. We just reverse his soul stream and yank it back—"
"Too late," Thorn snapped. "The moment he passed the Godline, his trajectory calcified. He's embedded in the Godless World."
Ploop whispered, "You mean… Ashen Earth?"
Everyone winced.
Even the elevator jazz stopped.
---
In the God Realm: The Emergency Room for Screwed-Up Souls
"Sheesh," muttered Shepherd God, clutching his staff like a stress toy. "Ashen Earth hasn't had a divine anchor in thirty-seven years. No gods. No barriers. No protection. Just war, curses, and unpaid taxes."
"Taxes?" asked Kellon.
"Shepherd jokes," said Thorn, deadpan. "We laugh to keep from screaming."
Kiran finally spoke.
"…It's my fault."
"No," Lania said gently. "It's whoever mislabeled the divine portal markers."
Thorn pulled out a God Map. The red and gold portals were a centimeter apart. One was labeled "Golden Rebirth for Ray." The other said, "Red: DO NOT USE (Under Construction / Possibly Cursed)."
Someone had written in crayon: "Looks spicy!"
Kiran groaned. "That was my six-year-old cosmic fragment. He thought it was a pizza portal."
---
Meanwhile… in Ashen Earth
A faint golden wisp floated through a gray sky, far above a broken, silent land.
Ashen Earth wasn't always godless. Once, it had temples, prayers, light.
Now?
Cities lay in ruins. Forests rotted. The sky never cleared.
The barrier that once separated Ashen Earth from hostile realms had thinned… and cracked. Now, beasts from other realms—demonic, chaotic, alien—roamed free.
In a quiet, war-scarred village… a woman screamed in pain.
And in her womb, a soul flickered—shattered, splintered, but still burning.
Ray's soul had entered a long, healing sleep. His spiritual core was damaged, his divine blessing gone, and only a faint ember of System-15 remained curled around him like a loyal dog refusing to die.
Inside the womb, faint echoes of a voice whispered:
> "You'll be late for your quest again, idiot…"
15.
Even half-dead, it refused to stop mocking him.
---
Back in the Divine Realm
Kiran sat on the edge of a floating island, staring down at the mortal realms below.
"He's not supposed to be there," he murmured. "Ashen Earth is wrong for him. It's brutal. Unforgiving."
Shepherd God sighed. "And yet… it's also a forge. Maybe he'll burn. Or maybe…"
"Maybe he'll become fire," finished Kellon, plucking his harp.
Thorn crossed his arms. "His soul is in hibernation. If he's lucky, he'll recover by birth. If not…"
He didn't finish that sentence.
Ploop finally burbled, "Should we send help? A guide? A backup sheep?"
"Too risky," Kiran said. "The last time we sent a divine helper, he founded a doomsday cult and invented soup-based religion."
Everyone shuddered.
Kiran stood.
"He's on his own now. But if he wakes up—if he survives—Ray will be stronger than any System-born soul before him."
A long pause.
Then Lania asked, "...What if he wakes up angry?"
Thorn cracked a smile.
"Then we better start preparing for Lord of the Dead."
---
To Be Continued…
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