"Now, how should we approach this young one," Death, as an amorphous tangle of fleshy wire and hooks, caressed the fog and the body that was small enough to fit on the tip of its finger and bottled it. In the crystalline case, the fog congealed into a watery depiction of the life of a young man. Death snorted, flicked one of its many wrists, and rewound the display several times over with an ever deepening grim expression.
The young man in question stopped at a sidewalk and shuffled away from a child who wiped a runny nose on his mother's coat. Almost instantly it turned into an icy stain as frost coalesced around the child's face. The kid couldn't do anything other than try and use the puffy sleeve of their white coat to get the rest of the snot to no avail. The young man concealed the disgusted crumple of his face by digging into a thick woolen scarf. Cars, trucks, and the odd motorcycle with chains or knotted wire on their tires flitted across the busy city road without a care for the sloshing dark ice they splattered across some pedestrians. The young man shrank back and away as he looked towards the sky and muttered, "Squall?". His nose uncontrollably twitched while snow poured from the sky at an increasingly substantial rate.
Not long after, the right to walk blinked into form as countless bodies shuffled across the street. By this moment many people could barely see the other side of the street. A handful of seconds later, the young man found himself in the middle of the street along with a handful of other pedestrians. For a moment, a fraction of a breath. His eyes flicked back and forth to take in every detail he could. With a mindless wince, he blinked his vision back into focus. Details he tried to overlook but couldn't help remembering, burned into his memory.
An old man in a large coat held his wife's hand as they passed by. They were likely married as their rings matched in design, but most importantly, the general disposition of the two screamed that they were practiced as they walked in matching and marching steps. As if they were one being. His memory then flitted to another couple that he couldn't help but to sneer at. He made an educated guess, someone in the relationship was being unfaithful and more recently than the partner knew. Just behind the man's ear and on his pants, glinting in the cold piercing headlights of stopped vehicles, was a slight rose-tinted lip print and the sparkle of glitter respectively. The same sparkle flashed on the lips and skin of a young lady that followed behind the couple since she wore the badge of an executive assistant for a nearby business. The rose color, however, matched the bright lipstick of the woman that the clueless guy walked arm in arm with while the same glitter was on her person with the only difference being that the glitter was only on hers and the assistant's skin. The young man made an inference that, if he knew the truth, would have been spot on.
"Poor idiot", the observant guy exhaled as he nearly crossed the street.
On the man's other side, he could see a group of teens, smiling and goofing off as they had just come out of school. It didn't even take half a second before he could decipher the group's drama. The most handsome teen in the group stood beside the young ladies as one part of the inner circle. One of the young men cast a brief look of yearning for the handsome teen but something stronger turned that gaze into something of self-hatred and anger as his lustful expression refocused onto the girl beside him. A young lady clung onto this conflicted youth with no apparent regard for personal space but every so often, during the times where she wasn't being cheerful, she looked towards a tall and dark eyed teen who walked beside another young lady. Both of those individuals, siblings or cousins based on their looks, stood on the outskirts of this group and looked as though they didn't want to be there as they had better things to do, but two other ladies in the group pulled the disinterested girl along with a smile forcing the other dark eyed guy to follow.
"I do not miss the drama", the man rolled his eyes with a shake of his head. The safe crossing light flickered to a stop, warning pedestrians to get off the road. With a fix of his scarf once more, the young man chose to continue on and ignore as much as he could about other people.
The young man paused for a moment. A small memory grabbed his attention, something he ignored at the moment but could now reflect upon now that he had crossed the street successfully. The sniffling child from before held onto an action figure but somewhere down the crosswalk, he dropped it. Before anyone else could notice, the youth turned with wide eyes, his mind spinning with possibilities. A distressed parent's sharp cry stabbed into the ears of everyone present. The child that the man saw earlier, ran back into the street to pick up some object they dropped. Time, for the young man, seemed to slow as his senses sharpened and his thoughts exploded forth…
"...the kid is around 3 and half meters away and weighs nearly 26 kg from the looks of it. The light is already in the process of transitioning so the traffic will pick up in, arguably, three seconds. Though they should be going slow since the whiteout is particularly violent even if there's impact. An adult can survive a car hit going at that speed…", In a state of adrenaline, the youth's foot moved him into action ever so slightly as he watched the oncoming traffic come to a stop and the light flicker to a change.
"If there is an impact, it will result in a sudden stop and a pile up that could force the vehicles to crush…", The young man took a single step towards the child then buried his head in his scarf even more as he chose to turn on his heel and retreat far away from the sidewalk. The child's mother ran out and grabbed her child. She picked him up and ran but it was already too late for her red coat to serve as a marker. The width of the incoming vehicle was much too wide of a distance that simply didn't allow any form of escape. The lady and her child were hit and sent flying a full meter away. Another vehicle, perhaps due to the drivers inattention or the severity of the squall, didn't see the parent and child as they were hit and sped up only to see the fallen duo at the wrong time. The driver stomped on the break, which caused the unsuspecting driver behind them to crash and slowly roll over and spin out. In the swirl of snow, the cars piled up and rolled over the grounded mother and child.
The young man shuddered as every single one of his thoughts played out to some degree of accuracy. Death replayed the scene over and over until it could make out an ethereal glint in the young man's eyes. Upon closer inspection, that light traced its way along all of the young man's nerves until the impossible energy that he summoned diffused to the rest of his body. Satisfaction rose in Death as a wicked and twisted, in some eyes, yet stunning smile spread across its newly constructed humanoid form and features. The rest of the young man's life played out along with every thought and action reduced to a bare essence. The truly formative moment for Death, the one that made it interested in this individual, was the young man's final moments.
The fog rippled to show an event years later in the young man's life. A middle-aged adult, not quite graying but balding, is shown within the fog rather than the spry young man from yesteryear. This day, much like before, was a winter's afternoon. An attendant smiled with an offering of food and drink and asked, "Mr. Laeke , how is your flight so far?"
"I'm shaken. It's not every day you just barely survive a heart attack. And I feel worse because of this storm. Though, it has somewhat evened out because of your service, so thank you for being worried about me. You may go."
"It's truly not a problem sir. And call me if you need absolutely anything", the attendant walked away but paused as soon as his boss made a sound.
"Hm wait."
"Yes sir, how may I help you."
"Can you bring my medication? It's in my suitcase, the small blue one. You're looking for a metal case. Also if you could let someone know that I want to change my in-flight meal to steak rather than chicken that would be lovely," Mr. Laeke held his chest with worry. An odd buzzing grip took hold of his heart and didn't want to let it go. His doctor told him that it would be normal to feel different after a transplant, but it was important to focus more on healing.
Regardless, thoughts swirled around in his head. More importantly, the look in his subordinates' eyes caught him by surprise as the young man nodded and walked away to complete his task. The mocking sneer behind those eyes nearly couldn't be contained. Laeke attempted to stand to use the restroom after waiting for a few minutes for the attendant to return with good news but a sudden dizziness knocked him back onto his seat. He could only think about how tight his chest started to feel. Was it the altitude, a panic attack, or something else. Mr. Laeke tried to narrow it down, but everything came back to the pain that started to rise.
"Calm down. Don't get agitated. The doctor said "don't get agitated"," as if he were reciting a mantra, Mr. Laeke breathed in and out and calmed himself down enough to notice his dry mouth. He took a small sip of water, just a small sip…
Suddenly, the plane lurched to the side and rocked violently in the sudden snowstorm. The startling nature of the turbulence, the mini panic attack, and his still very fresh transplant accumulated to a moment of pure shock. His throat closed up with that tiny bit of water blocking any possible air he might have gotten otherwise. Everything fell into place almost perfectly as he choked to death on a single sip of water.
"We know how to deal with this young one," with a flick, a domain wrapped around Death as its barely humanoid and cracked form solidified and matched a human one for one. The void all around it also swirled into a tangible darkness, like ink and fabric, mimicking the smell of a library and the scale of a ballroom. Another passing moment later and Death placed the crystalline bottle on the edge of a black and golden carpet that fit within its palm. With a snap of its fingers, the bottle shattered and clung to the fog that spiraled out. Like a fawn being birthed, the outline or silhouette of the middle aged man poured out of the fog, coughing as though he were trying to eject the water that he choked on.
"It would seem that I am dead," the dimly glowing and flickering outline of Mr. Laeke observed his surroundings with un-surprised arrogance after getting over the initial confusion that came with dying.
"How refreshing this is...", Said the Almighty Observer garbed in a gray, black, and white suit. Death assumed the form of a well-groomed, Androgynous, clearly defined and ashen grey human, to make the soul's adjustment to dying just that little bit easier. It was about to introduce itself when the previously human, faded spirit spoke out and said, "you are some kind of divine being right?"
The soul of Laeke said with a naturally respectful tone and a small amount of confidence a few seconds after surveying the room. The motifs and sculptures of calm, peaceful, deaths and luxury were synonymous with stories of ancient deities and myths. Hence, the soul assumed that this being in front of him was one of the entities from a mythos, if not "The" entity known as God.
"We are acknowledged as one. Though, not in your world...", Death's forced smile evened out to a neutral and somewhat gentle expression.
"We are a being that presides over all things related to Death, as you understand it and much more. My name and title, however, is also used in and as a designation meant for lesser beings or deities in managerial or socially acceptable positions. As of right now, all you must know is that We have decided to reincarnate you into a new world under blessed conditions," Death spread its arms out in majesty. Fireworks shot out, music played, and spectral flames lit up all around the endless room from out of nowhere. The soul of Laeke, unamused, didn't say anything and folded its transparent arms.
"You want more information?" Death scratched the back of its head in a robotic way.
"They usually jump at the opportunity," Death waited for the soul's response with a practiced and experienced sorrow, it thought so. The soul on the other hand, felt somewhat light of heart. It was obvious this entity was trying its best to not be imposing or scary, so the soul felt at ease. Even if it was only slightly.
"I do, sadly. I do not like getting into situations without proper planning and background information," The soul replied.
"We haven't handled these kinds of matters in a long time. Can't you just accept our proposal in good faith?"
The soul spoke with a frigid and sharp certainty, saying, "Faith? I'm sorry if this comes off as rude but living has told me that nothing is free and religion, believing in something intangible, is the freest form of comfort I can think of. Why would you, a seemingly almighty deity, want to reincarnate me, of all people?",
"Well...", Death showed hesitation and thought about the situation a little bit. In reality, it looked at the soul's entire life once more. It shared the soul's sentiment about preparation and equivalency, nothing should be given if it can't be taken. Especially life, since it held permanent and indisputable value. On that note, Death showed a wide range of expressions within a few seconds of silence. Simultaneously, it helped the soul recall certain memories which spurred on a series of conjectures or guesses as to the soul's current state. Just a moment after Death finished its facial charade, the soul spoke up.
"Wait, this whole scenario and the setting. It looks almost exactly like KOTRA, 'King of the Restless Abyss'. I'm guessing the similarities are on purpose and if they are, this should be some kind of test or game? That was a main feature of the series," the soul gauged Death's expression and found itself on the right track. Death nodded in approval then decided to try something else. Like a puppet master pulling strings, it pulled at the soul's emotions as well as its memories. In response, the soul got carried away in its thoughts as a swirl of information clicked into place like a puzzle.
"I see, then there should be another or other entities of your pedigree, or something equivalent and that one or they, want you to do something? So I'm part of a deal or proxy agreement that alters something that you have to do or want, in some way, am I right?", the soul read Death's over obvious expressions and pulled a storyline from nothing.
The soul paced back and forth in thought, openly musing, "you would utilize a surrogate and through reincarnation have them resolve the conflict on your behalf, right?"
"That's the general idea, yes," Death uttered in feigned surprise.
"That sounds reasonable enough, I guess. What do I get if I win this game of yours for you? I'm sure there are extra bonuses in addition to some foundational rewards. KOTRA was a bit heavy on rewards and punishments," The soul took a hard stance on its own gains.
Death only had one thing on its mind, "This little one is rather impressive..."
"The champions...", Death started to say.
"Of which you will be mine," the entity's face gave away.
"...regardless of whether they lose or not, will be able to live out their wildest fantasies in a paradise of their liking," Death finished saying. The soul wrapped its transparent fingers around its chin and softly said, "A personal paradise huh?" The faded spirit was going to ask a question but quickly stopped itself. It thought that even if it asked, "How long will I have this paradise? Or are there any stipulations regarding my residency there?", it wouldn't understand the answer. Instead, the soul asked something more in line with what Death was used to hearing during its time doing Life's job.
"Do I get some wishes, forbidden knowledge, a guide, or a system? It's kind of a staple in every story about someone who reincarnates. Also, what world am I going to and who or what am I going against? What do I have to do? Like is there killing involved? What about some other general information I could use like...", The soul listed off a few more things he wanted to know and even said a few things that were lines that would not be crossed unless he was pushed or under threat to do so.
"This is the information we can disclose. As for the rest, let us check with our associate…", Death put its hand up and turned away. A small book materialized in front of the soul and its pages flipped by themselves, glowing runes projected from the letters and flitted into him, imprinting the information directly into his mind. Meanwhile, the carefully energetic and charismatic expression on Death's face melted into an empty and characterless mask. Its charade was over now that the mortal had essentially agreed to do its part in this whole competition fueled by personal agenda. Seconds later, Death's (Handsome or was it beautiful?) face turned pale. The soul heard, for the first time in all of time immemorial, Death curse itself.
"Fuck everything, It's all ruined," Death didn't even attempt to put on its tried and true, "friendly", God face.