hunter20
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A job?
🕑 Added 2024-10-13 17:20:04 +0000 UTCWhen I woke up, I was no longer in the void; instead, I found myself in a white plane with a colorful center that looked like multiple rainbows had been mixed together. The colors were connected and interwoven in a way that created a masterpiece, but I couldn’t think of a better description than "rainbow puke." I had never been a color enthusiast, but I doubted these hues could be seen by the naked eye.
Anyway, where the hell am I? I don’t think souls can sleepwalk. I checked my soul and found no abnormalities, but perhaps a more thorough examination was needed.
"Ah, you woke up! Good! We have a lot to talk about," an old man appeared out of nowhere, speaking in a language I had never heard before. Yet, strangely, I understood him.
"You don't need to monologue to yourself, you know. You're not thinking quietly; you're just broadcasting your thoughts like a radio," the old man continued. Once again, I was puzzled by how I understood him or what he meant; I was obviously talking to myself, a habit I had developed for some strange reason. Perhaps the answer lies with the part of my soul I had thrown away?
"You threw a part of your soul away? What possessed you to do such a foolish thing?" the old man inquired, coming closer and waving his hand in front of me like some kind of lunatic.
"You’re really strange. Your soul is lacking in some aspects, and there's minor damage, but nothing that couldn't be fixed with time and proper knowledge," he added, somehow having checked my soul despite the energy shield that had been up since I went to sleep.
"Hey, old man, who are you? How can you inspect my soul while my shield is up? And what do you mean by everything you just said? Where is this place? Also, why am I here?" I asked him. It just occurred to me that I had spoken somehow, which was interesting! I'll be sure to study this later.
"Again, you don't need to monologue, and yes, souls and spiritual beings can speak, but I won't spoil the topic for you. To answer your question: you are here because I requested someone from outside my multiverse, and you were brought here. This place is a small dimensional plane created by me. I could inspect your soul because it was a non-aggressive diagnostic scan that passed right through; you should work on how you shield your soul. And I am the #%One *+*Above ^*%All, the creator of this part of the *^}%# multiversal $)^%#reality chain."
His words were overwhelming, and most of it flew over my head, but that’s what I understood. This is really interesting.
"Okay, honestly, my understanding might differ significantly from what you said, but let me summarize to see if I got this right: I was delivered here like some kind of package; you can scan me because my shield is ineffective; and you're a creator of a multiverse. Am I correct so far?"
"Eh, close enough. You're inexperienced with this way of speaking, nor are you strong enough to understand what I explained, but that's neither here nor there. I requested someone from outside my multiverse for a job, and you were delivered, so you'll do just fine. Now, before I tell you your job, tell me about yourself," the old man told me. Why am I referring to a multiverse creator as 'old man'? He looks the part, plus the worst that could happen is being erased from existence. Well, it might be better; my experience so far doesn’t bode well for living.
"Again, your monologue is unnecessary; you should learn to utilize that shield of yours better. Anyway, I don’t mind you calling me old man, although not many do, for some reason. It’s not like I would do anything to them, really, but I guess that's that. Now tell me about your journey here; it sounds interesting," the old man said, berating me for my poor use of the shield. Maybe he doesn't know that I created this one while I was fighting sleep in the void. Eh, it doesn't matter.
I started talking with the old man, sharing what had happened and how I got here. Upon reflection, it’s strange; I don't think I'm sharing all of this with him purely because I want to. There must be something influencing me to do so. I learned something odd: somehow, the knowledge I gained from the other soul portrays stories from some of the universes within his multiverse. I asked him about it, but he didn't tell me much; all he said was to grow stronger and more knowledgeable, and then I'd find out. If you ask me, I think he was just lazy and didn’t want to explain.
On another note, I found out how and why I appeared in the void after dying. His words were, "You might have been a supernatural being in a reality that has no tolerance for the supernatural, or you could have been cursed by the world you were in for one reason or another. It could also be countless other reasons that got you kicked out of where you were. What you should be certain of is that you were banished into what you call the void, which is, by the way, the wrong definition for that place, but I'm not going to correct you." So, as you might infer, I was too special for the world itself; it was jealous of me and had to kick me out. I just got confirmation of what I had always known—I'm just too awesome.
"Narcissistic thoughts aside, what you should be proud of are your instincts. That encounter with the soul you told me about was most likely a higher being using a misguided human soul as a slave to do its bidding. And before you ask, yes, if you hadn't followed your instincts, you would have most likely been enslaved instead," the old man interrupted my thoughts once again. What he said was likely true; from the knowledge I gleaned from the soul and his life stories, the only conclusion I could come to is that it takes a special kind of fool to believe they are getting wishes from nowhere, just because they saved a child or because an omnipotent being is bored. Especially the bored omnipotent being—that one is hilarious. Though to be fair, not everyone wishes for death, so I guess good for them.
Anyway, I wanted to ask the old man about the job he mentioned. "Hey, old man, you said something about a job. Care to give me the details? And am I getting paid?"
"Ah, the job, yes. I will send you to one of the realities that has been forcefully merged with two others. Your task is to find the individual who is reincarnated there and acquire his so-called system, either peacefully or by force—it's up to you. Before you ask, yes, I have taken care of those responsible; yes, you’ll be given the means to extract the system and send it to me. Yes, you’re getting paid in the form of living again. No, that’s all you’ll receive for this job," the old man said. He just answers whatever he likes, huh?
Before I could continue my musings, he cut in again. "Anyway, kid, it was nice getting to know you, but now I’m sending you to Death’s realm so you can finalize your living-again situation." Before I could ask how Death would help me, I was kicked out and felt a bizarre sensation of sliding and twisting. Huh, that was fun. I looked around and found myself in a Halloween-themed hall. Now that I got the feel of this place, it feels like home to me, so I did the first thing that popped into my head and said, "Honey, I’m home!" And before you ask, yes, I learned this from one of the stories.
"Welcome," a smooth voice said from behind me. How did she get here without my notice? I don’t know.
"Before you continue with that annoying habit of yours, let me introduce myself. I am Death. I will be responsible for sending your soul into the body of a recently deceased wizard who wishes to stay dead and reunite with his family. However, he still has an ongoing debt to magic and fate, so you’ll be dealing with them in his stead unless, of course, you want to lose your magic—which, if I had to guess, the answer is no. So, get ready," Death mentioned.
Once again, I found myself being teleported into some kind of train station, where a scrawny kid was sitting beside a deformed baby. I scanned the baby-shaped thing first and then the boy, discovering he was just a soul without any abnormalities. I walked towards him and sat beside him in silence.
The quiet atmosphere lasted for a while before the kid’s attention was drawn to me. Startled, he jumped up, looking at me vigilantly and asked, “Who are you? What are you doing here? How did you get here? Why?” Before he could continue his barrage of questions, I cut him off by saying, “Hey there, slow down a little. Sit down, take a deep breath, and then we can talk about it.” He looked at me suspiciously for a moment but eventually sat down.
“Well, first things first, I don’t have a name. No, I had a name, but I lost it along with some key memories that make up most of my identity. I guess you can refer to me with whatever pops into your head. As for why I’m here, Death sent me here and said something about a person wanting to stay dead, so I will be taking his place to do a job and live, I guess. Now, how about you start telling me about yourself from the beginning so we can understand what’s happening?”
And so we began discussing our stories. Initially skeptical, the kid's doubts faded as we engaged in a question-and-answer exchange, and I figured out how to project some of my memories to help him do the same. With that, skepticism was gone, and we continued our talks while trying to figure out why he was still there even though I had already arrived.
