The last few moments before death were painful.
It wasn't the peaceful flashback of happy memories and bliss I had expected; instead, it felt more like a crushing defeat at the hands of the grim reaper.
I wasn't sure why I was still alive. I could still painfully feel the core aspects of my body — my aching arms, a hot sting running throughout my back, and a painfully empty stomach to go with it.
That voice… I thought back to what happened before I died.
I remember hearing a voice promising me I'd get another chance in life.
It promised I could bring my family back.
Lying in silence for a moment, I contemplated whether or not all of it was real.
Had I simply crashed because of some illusion? Did I really lose my mind in my last moments?
Paralyzed from head to toe, I could no longer hear any voice to distract me; only the searing pain spreading across my body.
At the very least, I survived. Although I wasn't sure how much that counted for. From what I could tell, the crash had left me as a paraplegic, without the ability to even clench my fist.
I would've been better off had I died.
Yet, I was still alive.
As I could still feel, I noticed I was lying face-first on some sort of mushy mud. I must've still been at the scene of the crash; the only thing off was how quiet it was.
I expected some screams or the sounds of the ambulance, but it seemed my death didn't even accompany a groan of displeasure.
Attempting a rebuttal against fate, I tried to force my eyes open, but to no avail. I felt as though glue had sealed my eyelids shut.
Am I going to die here? I had accomplished little in my life, and now here I was, alone without control over anything but my own thoughts.
It was quite a sad way to go out.
"Ah, human. I apologize for taking so long. I had been… busy."
A voice sounded from the depths of my mind. It didn't feel like my own mind at all—clear, deliberate, as if someone else had inserted their words straight into my head.
"You must be quite confused; do not worry, we have plenty of time to talk, so ask what's on your mind."
Still lying on the floor, I felt a sense of euphoria run throughout me.
It was true! Although I couldn't move, a slight grin formed deep in my heart.
I really had died then? Was this my second chance? But if that's the case, then where was my family?
Where is my family? You promised to bring them back? And why can't I move my body?
"Did I say that? If I recall correctly, I merely promised that I could? I said nothing about actually doing so. If anything, aren't you the one in the wrong for forcing your ideals on me? You should be grateful you're even alive." The words sounded so casual I truly felt I was in the wrong for a second.
Y-you scammed me? The euphoria I was feeling was quickly replaced with a sense of dread and confusion.
A voice had spoken to me, and I had believed it and killed myself?
Was I an idiot?
"Ah, but don't worry so much, the promise to strength was true, and who knows if you're strong enough maybe you really could bring your family back." It spoke in a cheering and enthusiastic tone, but I couldn't find any of the joy it tried to share.
How could I be happy when I couldn't even move?
"Yes, I almost forgot."
Snap
With a snap of its fingers, I felt my body slowly rejuvenating, and a lot of the weakness and pain I had felt evaporated.
I slowly opened my eyes and lifted myself up. Surrounding me were three brick walls; I was in some sort of alleyway surrounded by trash, mud, and excrement.
Sharply inhaling after realizing where I was, I quickly attempted to stand up, but a quick shot of blood to my head made me stumble, landing face-first in a pile of shit.
"..."
"You should be more careful. I've only rewound that body two days from its death. It's still quite beaten up… and… you should get that washed up."
Sitting up dazedly, I tightly closed my mouth as I felt a wet piece of unknown juice fall down my face.
After regaining my composure and some of my dignity by wiping the manure off my face, I staggered toward the alley exit.
As I moved, a strange sensation hit me—my arms and legs felt thinner, my head smaller, my body weaker than it should be.
I stumbled past a puddle and caught my reflection.
The face staring back at me was thin, small, and hollow, still streaked with filth and dried manure. My hands looked tiny, my legs scrawny, and my entire body… smaller. I was in a child's body.
My stomach twisted, and I staggered back slightly, staring at the reflection. I'm a kid. A child.
Shaking off the shock, I reminded myself I had bigger problems. The first order of business: clean myself.
I had read plenty of stories about people transported to different worlds; usually, there was an interdimensional friend to guide them. Only problem: this voice wouldn't speak to me.
I had asked multiple questions—some about my family, some about how to get stronger—but since telling me I had two days left to live, it had remained silent.
And more importantly, I didn't have a single clue who or where I was.
I dazedly walked the streets of whatever rural village this was with no direction. How was I supposed to get stronger like this?
There weren't many people around, but the few who saw me gave disapproving looks and quickly minded their business. I wasn't sure if it was because of the potent scent of shit wafting off me, or because—no, it was definitely the shit.
I tried to speak to a few people, even some ladies, hoping for pity, but they seemed even more disgusted.
At this point, I knew what I had to do.
I had to take a shower.
I'd get nowhere like this. The only problem was whether a shower even existed here. From what I could see, this place didn't even know about the existence of toilet paper, let alone showers.
Walking a while longer, I found myself in some sort of city square. Vendors lined the streets, people shopping with bags in hand.
I didn't bother speaking to anyone; it was obvious I wouldn't get answers. I kept walking.
Eventually, I found what seemed like a 1600th-century homeless man. His beard was long, dirty-stained yellow and brown. He wore a simple rag to cover himself, luckily for him and me it was summer.
I couldn't see his face as he looked down at his knees, but this wise gentleman was certainly my path to a bath.
Slowly walking up to him, I spoke, "Hey, excuse me sir." I tried to sound loud enough for him to hear, but he continued to sleep.
I shuffled a little closer, wincing as the stench of his filth mixed with my own.
"Hey, excuse me, sir," I called again, louder this time. My voice cracked somewhere between authority and desperation. Still, he didn't flinch. He didn't even breathe. I was starting to think I'd found a dead man.
"Uh… you alive?" I muttered under my breath.
Finally, he groaned, tilting his head just enough to reveal one bloodshot eye.
"You… need… water," he rasped. His words were slow, deliberate, like chewing gravel.
"Water? Y-ye… How'd you know?" I asked, but he only drew a deep breath through his nose before exhaling.
He grunted, then stood, surprisingly nimble for someone who looked close to death. He motioned for me to follow.
I did, reluctantly. I already fell face-first into crap; the last thing I needed was for this old man to try anything.
We weaved through narrow streets, some littered with homeless, some snorting unknown red dust. Every breath burned my nose, but at least my body felt… better. The pain that had dominated every nerve had dulled.
Eventually, we reached a small wooden structure about the size of a porta potty that reeked of mildew and age. He waved me inside. The place was dirty, littered with a shoe in the corner and unknown rags. In the middle of the room was a bucket filled halfway with brownish liquid.
Fuck is this?
"Clean," he said flatly.
I blinked. "That's… the water? You expect me to wash with… that?"
"Water is water. You're lucky we beggars are family," he muttered, then turned to leave.
I stared at the bucket, debating whether I'd rather rot in filth than risk every disease in the known world.
Then I sighed. Taking a sniff, it didn't smell like shit. I plunged my hands, checked for debris, and splashed my face. It wasn't perfect, but at least I was somewhat cleaner.
By the time I finished, I felt… human again. Almost. Almost.
Covered by an unknown wetness, I leaned against the wall, panting, and muttered, "I… I guess I can deal with this world for a little while."
That's when it happened.
A whisper echoed in my head, impossibly clear:
"Good… you're clean, we can speak now."
I froze. "Really? Is that why you wouldn't speak to me? Because I fell in crap?"
Tsk, human. Would you speak to a man covered in shit?
I scowled, brushing wet strands of hair from my face. Sure. I get it. Now tell me more—I don't know anything about this place.
Ahem. The world you have been repositioned to is called Eon.
It is a place of malice and grand power. Here, your choices will carry weight, and your weakness will invite consequences.
I swallowed hard. Okay… but what am I supposed to do to get stronger?
You will act. That is enough for now.
After a brief silence, it continued:
Do not misunderstand me—I am not your ally in the sense you hope. I have placed you here because circumstances demand it, not because I wish to. Your family… your previous life… they can be brought back, but that depends entirely on you.
Then it went silent.
I left the tiny building, headache forming, but at least I smelled less like a walking biohazard.
Stepping back into the alley, the village… no, city… whatever this place was, felt bigger, more alive. I guess I didn't see this as a new world until now. This was really a new chance.
I shouldn't mess this up.
Grumble.
But first… I needed food.