Error correction version 2.0
Chapter 1
Written by Bayzo Albion
Death is not the end.
Death is the ultimate beginning.
I died.
I didn't just deduce it-I felt it deep in my core, a shift that transcended logic. The world froze, slipping through my grasp like sand before scattering into oblivion. Colors faded, sounds muffled, until nothing remained but a vast, echoing void.
There was no pain.
No body to feel it.
Only silence-not the gentle hush of a quiet room, but a thick, suffocating weight pressing in from all sides, coiling around my throat like an invisible serpent. Squeezing tighter with every non-breath.
I drifted like an unchained spirit in the ether.
No weight pulling me down.
No time ticking forward.
No direction-up, down, left, right; all concepts dissolved.
Just… suspended in the infinite.
A motionless, windless, endless flight. A perpetual stasis. Only the infinite emptiness and me-a fleeting dot cradled in its cold, indifferent hands.
Yet, with that profound isolation came an absurd calm. It was as if I had finally shrugged off the crushing weight of the world, its expectations, and its relentless demands. The burdens I'd carried for so long-regrets, failures, the endless grind-evaporated, leaving me weightless.
I could have stayed there forever, basking in that serene nothingness.
But then, something yanked me back.
A violent pull, like a hook embedded in my soul, reeling me in. A return to everything I had escaped.
A sharp gasp tore through me. Air seared my lungs like boiling water, igniting my nerves in a blaze of unwelcome sensation.
"God..." I groaned, twisting as my body reformed around me, piece by agonizing piece. "Again? Even after death, no peace? Why drag me back?"
The world sank its claws into me. The burden of flesh returned, heavy and insistent, pressing down on my chest like a stone slab. Pressure built inside my skull, throbbing with the suffocating realization that everything-people, places, obligations-would demand more than I could ever give.
"What happened?" a voice asked, cutting through the haze. Not commanding, not distant-but soft, deep, and resonant. Like warm water seeping into the cracks of my shattered soul, mending them with gentle persistence.
I forced my eyes open, blinking against a sudden influx of light. After the void, it felt too bright, too real.
She was kneeling beside me, a steady presence in the disorienting fog.
Ethereal and radiant, her skin possessed an otherworldly shimmer, like polished marble under moonlight. Yet, it was the subtle signs of fatigue-the faint shadows under her eyes, the slight weariness in her posture-that made her feel real. Her hair cascaded in silken waves, the color of a midnight sky, framing a face that held the wisdom of ages. There was no fear in her gaze, no judgment. Only a quiet, absolute acceptance.
"I… I don't want to go back," I rasped, my voice cracking like dry gravel. "I'm tired of it all. Exhausted to my very core."
"What exactly are you tired of?" she asked. Her eyes held mine with an intensity that felt both comforting and probing, inviting me to unburden myself.
"Everything." A bitter smile twisted my lips-lips that still felt foreign on my reformed face. "Eating just to survive, only to hunger again. Breathing stale air. Endless talking, words that mean nothing. Looking at the same weary faces day after day, all of them hiding the same hollow emptiness. Pretending someone needs me, when I know it's a farce. Even thinking-I'm sick of the constant whirl of doubts and fears. I just want silence. Rest. Oblivion. Is that so much to ask? I died. Let me stay dead! Why chain me back to this prison of flesh and bone?"
She remained silent for a long moment, acting as an anchor against my sudden outburst. Her unwavering gaze felt like it was peeling away my defenses layer by layer, exposing the raw truths I'd buried beneath years of pretense.
Finally, she spoke. "You did die."
"Perfect! Wonderful!" I let out a sharp, breathless laugh that died almost instantly. It was a sound born of pure despair. "So I can finally rest from that damned labor called life… Or wait. Don't tell me-"
"Yes," she interrupted softly. Her voice was quiet, but it carried the weight of absolute inevitability. "There is still work left for you."
I froze, my newly formed muscles tensing as if struck by lightning. "Even after death?" My voice cracked with rising anger. "You've got to be joking. Life was nothing but endless toil, grinding away at my spirit until nothing was left but dust. And now, in the afterlife-more work? Where is the rest? Where is the justice in a universe that demands labor even from the dead?"
She tilted her head, her gaze remaining calm and strangely tender.
"They say the harder the life, the sweeter the rest that follows. Your path is almost complete. Just endure a little longer. The trials ahead are not punishments, but steps toward true liberation."
The priestess leaned closer. A faint scent of jasmine and ancient incense wafted over me. With fluid, unearthly grace, she reached into the folds of her robes and drew out a small fan made of iridescent feathers, its plumes shifting from sapphire blue to emerald green.
With a soft smile, she began to brush away the dust clinging to my form. Each stroke was light and deliberate, and with them, the accumulated grime of my lifetime's regrets and sorrows seemed to vanish.
"Do you feel lighter now?" she asked.
"I do," I admitted, blinking. The sudden change was jarring. The heavy fog of depression that had clouded my thoughts for years, the cold knot of despair in my gut-it was just gone. Melted away. "Thank you. Though... what is that? It looks a bit too whimsical for a sacred tool."
"A token from my home," she answered with a faint, enigmatic smile.
"Spatial magic?" I guessed, running a hand through my hair, still bewildered by the casual display of power.
"Something like that," she admitted. Then, her tone shifted, taking on a ceremonial weight. "Congratulations. You are dead. From this moment on, you are a resident of the world some naïve souls still call paradise-a realm beyond the veil."
Before I could process her words, a holographic interface snapped into existence right before my eyes. Semi-transparent and pulsing with a soft, ethereal glow, it cut through the dim light of the void.
The text hovered in the air, sharp and insistent:
> **[Enter your name:]**
> **[_]**