The neon lights of Shinjuku always looked like a blurred watercolor painting after the fourth round of highballs.
Sato Kenji adjusted his crooked tie, his breath hitching in the humid night air. Beside him, his manager was still belt-singing a classic Enka song, his arm draped heavily over Kenji's shoulders, smelling of cheap tobacco and fermented soy. It was the typical Friday ritual—an "optional" drinking party that was anything but optional for a mid-level salaryman in Tokyo.
"Sato-kun! One more place! The night is young, and the company is paying!" the manager bellowed, his face the color of a ripe, bruised tomato.
"I think... I think I've reached my limit, Chief," Kenji stammered, offering a practiced, forty-five-degree bow that felt like it might send him toppling onto the pavement. "My train leaves in ten minutes. If I miss the Chuo line, my wife... well, you know."
Another lie. Kenji wasn't married. He lived alone in a six-tatami room in Nakano with a dying cactus and a stack of unread light novels. He just wanted to be alone. He wanted the silence of his cramped apartment and a sleep that wasn't haunted by the blue light of Excel spreadsheets.
After finally detaching himself from the group with a series of subservient nods, Kenji wandered into the narrower alleys, away from the roaring crowds and the rhythmic thump-thump of the Roppongi clubs. The alcohol was buzzing in his ears, making the world feel soft, distant, and strangely peaceful.
That was when he saw it.
At the end of a dimly lit street, tucked between two vending machines, a figure stood. It wasn't a person—not exactly. It looked like a ripple in the air, a shadow that moved against the wind. It was ethereal, shimmering with a soft, pale blue light that didn't reflect off the wet asphalt.
"Hey..." Kenji called out, his voice thick with drink. "You... you lost?"
The entity didn't answer. It turned, its movements liquid and impossible, and drifted around a corner.
In his sober mind, Kenji would have walked the other way. He would have called a taxi. But the whiskey in his veins whispered that this was an adventure—the kind he had read about in the books he hid under his bed. He followed the shimmering shadow, his leather shoes clicking rhythmically on the pavement.
He turned the corner, his eyes fixed on the blue glow.
HONK—!
The sound was a physical blow. White light, blinding and absolute, swallowed the alleyway. Kenji turned his head just in time to see the massive, mud-splattered chrome grill of a delivery lorry. There was no pain—not at first. Just a dull, heavy thud and the sudden, terrifying sensation of being weightless.
Time didn't slow down; it shattered.
Kenji saw his life in a series of flickering Polaroids. He saw himself as a boy catching cicadas in the countryside, the heat of the sun on his neck. He saw his mother's tired smile as she packed his lunch. He saw the fluorescent lights of his office, the thousands of hours spent apologizing for things that weren't his fault, the endless cycle of "Yes, sir" and "I'll get right on it."
Is that it? he thought, a strange clarity piercing through the alcohol. Is that the whole story? A cog in a machine that finally snapped?
Suddenly, the screeching tires and the roar of the engine vanished. The world froze. The shards of glass from the shattered headlight hung in the air like suspended diamonds. The dust motes stopped dancing.
"A shame," a voice whispered. It was like the sound of a silver bell ringing in a deep, ice-filled cavern.
Kenji blinked. He wasn't on the ground anymore. He was standing—or rather, floating in a void of soft, grey mist. In front of him stood a woman. She was breathtaking in a way that hurt to look at. Her skin was like polished marble, her hair a river of ink that defied gravity, and her eyes held the quiet, terrifying peace of a moonlit lake. She wore a flowing black kimono that seemed to be made of stitched-together shadows.
"I am a Reaper," she said, her voice devoid of malice. "The bridge between the 'Is' and the 'Was'."
Kenji looked down. He saw his own body crumpled beneath the wheels of the lorry. It was a gruesome sight—the cheap suit jacket he'd bought on sale was ruined by oil and blood. One of his shoes had flown twenty feet away.
"My body..."
"Is damaged beyond repair," the Reaper said, stepping closer. She smelled like lilies and cold, fresh earth. "Your physical vessel can no longer contain your soul. It's like a cracked vase trying to hold water. You are leaking, Sato Kenji."
She reached out a pale hand. "Come. This place is loud with the echoes of the living. Let us walk."
Kenji took her hand. It was cold, but it felt more real than anything he had touched in years. As they walked, the street, the lorry, and the city of Tokyo began to dissolve like salt in water. The black asphalt turned to white mist. The sky vanished, replaced by a vast, shimmering emptiness that felt both infinite and intimate.
"Choose," she said, stopping as the world became a pure, blinding white. Her smile was small, a little sad, but incredibly beautiful—the kind of smile that made a man feel like his sins were already forgiven. "You may rest in the eternal heavens, where there is no labor and no hunger. Or, you may be reborn into another world—a place where your soul might find a different shape. A place where fate is not yet written in ink."
Kenji didn't have to think. He thought of the office. He thought of the grey, suffocating sky of the city. He wanted color. He wanted to feel the sun without wondering if he was late for a meeting.
"Rebirth," he whispered, his voice gaining strength. "I want to go somewhere else."
The Reaper nodded, her smile widening just a fraction. "Then farewell, traveler. May your next path be less crowded."
She faded into the white, and for a moment, Kenji was alone in the silence. Then, the atmosphere changed. The peaceful silence was replaced by a heavy, vibrating energy that made the very air hum.
CLANG. CLANG. CLANG.
The sound of metal hitting metal echoed through the void, like a giant hammering on the foundations of the universe. In front of Kenji, a new figure appeared. It was massive, towering ten feet tall. This wasn't the gentle beauty of the Reaper. This was an Angel.
It had six wings, each feather tipped with gold and etched with ancient runes. The entity was draped in heavy chains of silver, adorned with golden incense burners that puffed out clouds of amber smoke. Crystalline ornaments and eyes—too many eyes—decorated its armor.
Kenji felt a primal, biological urge to kneel. This was the "Biblical" terror the old texts warned about.
"Human," the Angel boomed, the sound vibrating in Kenji's teeth and marrow. "I am here to measure the weight of your karma before you pass through the Gate."
A massive scale appeared in the air, glowing with a fierce, judging light. Kenji's life began to pour into it—a stream of grey and white mist representing his deeds.
The Angel watched, its fiery eyes narrowing as the scales balanced. "Hmmph," it grunted, a sound like a tectonic plate shifting. "Ordinary. Boring. But... remarkably clean. You have lived a life of quiet endurance. You have taken the burdens of others without complaint. You have been a shield for those weaker than you, even if you never realized it."
The Angel looked at Kenji, its expression softening into a terrifying smirk. "Too good for the world you are heading to. It is a place of monsters, of ancient greed, and of gods who treat mortals like chess pieces. If you go as you are, you will be eaten by a low-level slime within the hour."
The Angel waved a hand. Suddenly, a translucent blue screen hissed into existence in front of Kenji's face, floating in the white void.
[CHARACTER INITIALIZATION: SOUL NO. 9982-SATO]
[ALLOCATABLE POINTS: 300]
"I will give you a fighting chance," the Angel said, a strange, mocking laugh bubbling in its throat. "Distribute these points. They will define your new vessel—your strength, your mind, your essence. But a word of advice, salaryman: the world of Eterna is a cruel place. If you aren't strong, be smart. And if you aren't smart... make sure your Luck is high."
Kenji stared at the screen. It felt like the RPGs he used to play to escape reality. This was the ultimate character creator.
STRENGTH: 0
AGILITY: 0
INTELLIGENCE: 0
VITALITY: 0
MANA: 0
LUCK: 0
He looked at the 300 points. He could be a warrior, a titan of muscle. He could be a grand sage with infinite mana. But he remembered the Angel's laugh. He remembered the truck. He remembered how his "hard work" in Tokyo had gotten him nothing but a lonely death in an alleyway.
Hard work is a lie, he thought bitterly. Success is just a roll of the dice.
He began to tap the screen with a frantic energy.
Strength: 40.
Agility: 40.
Intelligence: 40.
Vitality: 40.
Mana: 40.
He looked at the remaining 100 points. The "Luck" stat seemed to shimmer, pulsing with a faint, golden light that was different from the others. In his old life, he had been the unluckiest man—born into struggle, living for others, and killed by a random accident. He never wanted to be at the mercy of "bad luck" again.
He poured every single remaining point into LUCK.
[FINAL DISTRIBUTION]
STRENGTH: 40
AGILITY: 40
INTELLIGENCE: 40
VITALITY: 40
MANA: 40
LUCK: 100
"Confirmed," Kenji muttered, his finger hitting the virtual button.
The Angel's laughter grew louder, ringing like a gong. "A gambler! I like that! Most choose the sword or the spell, but you choose the roll of the dice! You want to play against the House, salaryman?"
Suddenly, a high-pitched, agonizing ringing sound drowned out the Angel's voice. The blue screen flickered violently, the color draining out of it until it turned a deep, bruised purple, then a blood-red, before finally exploding into a neon gold that burned Kenji's retinas.
[WARNING: LUCK STAT HAS EXCEEDED SYSTEM PARAMETERS FOR 'NORMAL' REBIRTH]
[CRITICAL ERROR: FATE CALCULATOR OVERLOADED]
[CALCULATING HIDDEN TITLES...]
[NOTIFICATION: YOU HAVE RECEIVED...]
Kenji squinted, leaning forward to read the text, but the golden light was becoming a physical force, pushing him back. It felt as if his soul was being stretched thin, pulled through a needle's eye.
"Goodbye, Sato Kenji!" the Angel shouted, its six wings unfurling and filling the entire field of vision until there was nothing left but feathers and gold. "Try not to die too quickly! Or do—it would be a very entertaining waste of points!"
The white light returned, absolute and heavy. Kenji's consciousness began to slip away into the roaring wind of reincarnation. The last thing he saw was the Angel's mocking, golden silhouette bidding him a theatrical, waving farewell.