"Happy anniversary, Elias! I've got a surprise for you!"
I kicked the door to our penthouse open, balancing a bouquet of lilies and a vintage bottle of Cristal. I'd just closed the Miller account—the biggest in the firm's history. I was finally getting that Senior Partner nod. I was on top of the world.
The laughter from the bedroom stopped me cold. It wasn't my wife Clara's usual soft giggle. It was a jagged, breathless sound. And it was joined by a deep, guttural chuckle I recognized instantly.
I dropped the flowers. The crystal shattered at my feet. I didn't wait. I charged into the bedroom.
"What the hell is this?"
Clara didn't even try to cover herself. She leaned back against the headboard, her eyes cold as ice. Next to her, Marcus Thorne—my boss, my mentor, the man who had promised me the world—lit a cigarette.
"You're home early, Elias," Marcus said, blowing a cloud of smoke into my face. "I thought you were still sucking up to the Millers."
"Clara? Get out. Now," I rasped, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird.
"Why should I?" She smirked, reaching over to trace a line down Marcus's chest. "Marcus bought this bed. He bought this apartment. In fact, he bought me. You were just the placeholder."
"You gold-digging—" I lunged forward, but Marcus was faster. He rolled out of bed, 190 pounds of pure, gym-honed muscle, and caught me with a brutal hook to the jaw.
I hit the floor hard. My vision blurred.
"Don't get ahead of yourself, champ," Marcus sneered, kicking me in the ribs. I gasped, the air leaving my lungs in a sharp wheeze. "You want to talk about your promotion? Here's the news: you're fired. And since the firm owns your 'intellectual property,' that means your bank accounts are frozen as of five minutes ago."
"You can't do that," I coughed, tasting copper. "The Miller contract—it's mine!"
"It's mine now," Clara piped up, swinging her legs off the bed. "I signed over the power of attorney you gave me last month. Thanks for the bridge to a better life, Elias. You really were a 'worthless' husband."
Marcus grabbed me by the collar and dragged me toward the floor-to-ceiling windows. I struggled, clawing at his hands, but I was a pencil-pusher against a predator. He slammed me against the glass.
"Look at the view, Elias. Forty stories. It's a long way down for a loser."
"Marcus, stop!" I choked out. "Just let me go. I'll leave. I'll never come back."
"Oh, I know you won't," Marcus laughed. He noticed the heavy, rusted iron ring on my finger—the one thing my father left me. "What's this? Still wearing that 'worthless' heirloom? Let's see if it can fly."
He twisted the ring, nearly snapping my finger, but it wouldn't budge. "Stubborn, just like you."
"Leave it alone!" I screamed, swinging a desperate fist that he caught effortlessly.
"Clara, honey, should I let him keep it?"
"Throw him over, Marcus," she said, bored, as she checked her nails. "He's ruining the mood."
Marcus grinned, a predator showing his teeth. He punched the emergency release on the balcony door. The night air rushed in, cold and violent. He hauled me out onto the ledge, dangling me over the abyss. The city lights below looked like tiny, uncaring stars.
"This is your final promotion, Elias," Marcus whispered in my ear. "To the afterlife."
"I'll see you in hell," I spat, catching him right in the eye.
His face contorted in rage. "Not if I'm holding the keys."
He let go.
The world vanished. Gravity became a physical weight, crushing my chest as I plummeted into the dark. The wind screamed in my ears, stripping away my breath. I watched the penthouse balcony shrink into a pinpoint of light.
I looked at my hand, at the dull, rusted Celestial Anchor ring. I'm sorry, Dad. I lost everything.
CRACK.
I didn't hit the ground. I hit the black surface of the river.
The impact was like hitting a brick wall. Every bone in my body shattered. My lungs filled with icy water. But as my heart gave its final, fluttering beat, the ring on my finger didn't just break—it exploded.
A blinding, golden light erupted from my hand, turning the dark water into a sea of molten fire.
[System Initialization...]
A voice, cold and mechanical, echoed directly inside my skull, drowning out the roar of the water.
[Bloodline Seal Detected: Celestial Anchor.]
[Status: 0.01% Unlocked.]
[Condition: Vital Signs Critical. Emergency Protocols Engaged.]
My vision went white. My skin began to smoke under the water.
[Commencing Body Forging...]
[Target: Mortal Remnants. Result: Divine Reconstruction.]
"Wait," I tried to scream, but the water in my throat was turning into steam.
[Warning: 99.99% of Power still sealed. Host must survive the forging or face total erasure.]
The darkness returned, but this time, it was screaming.