Joe drifted in an endless sea of blue fire. Time seemed to stretch, fears gnawed at him. He feared that his first instincts were right. Somehow, had his spirit been trapped in the pages of that book, A Titan's Core?

But as the endless flames swirled around and through him, they gave way to depressing thoughts. In his current form, or essence, or whatever the hell he was, Joe felt light and floated like a breeze, yet the weight of his death, the fact he'd never see his family and friends again, clung to him.

Joe sensed the comforting warmth of the blue light trying to ease those sad thoughts, but there was a gaping hole where his heart should have been, of the loss which could never be filled. His thoughts turned to his sister, their childhood together, and the gut-punch of realizing just how ill she really was.

Fierce protectiveness swelled in him, just like the very first time he’d discovered that awful truth. Her smiling face always brought him happiness.

But even when she was in pain, she smiled.

Joe couldn’t break away from those thoughts, no matter how soothing the warm blue light was blowing around and through him.

Soon, time lost its meaning. The faces of family and friends began to blur. The dread of an eternal cursed life ebbed, replaced by a strange feeling that somehow everything would be okay.

That sense of peace shattered once his awareness caught a faint mumbling. His entire being became alert. He strained his senses to pick up any clue of the mutterings. It was like eavesdropping through a wall.

It didn’t stop him from trying to understand what the voice was saying. He focused his attention on the sound, but as he did so, he noticed it came from a dark blue dot at the center of his vision.

No matter which way he moved, the blue dot remained. Not only that, it grew larger while the swirling blue sea of flames receded. It was then that he realized, to his horror, he was rushing towards the blue speck.

A dark tunnel to an unknown realm.

Fear gripped him, his consciousness flickered under an unseen force, trying to tear him apart. Joe did everything he could to suppress his fears, straining to stay alert and connected to who he was. That way, he hoped he’d hold on to the memory of his sister and everyone he loved. A moment of silence followed, like the one between the truck impact and his last dying breath.

Darkness wrapped around him, robbing him of his senses, of everything but his memories. Joe pictured her, placing all the treasured memories he had, safe in a heart-shaped box in his mind, untouchable to all forces, even those belonging to a god.

***

The darkness lifted from a black tunnel to muted grays, and then cleared, before finally unveiling his new surroundings. Joe, with a head as heavy as a ten-ton brick, needed a minute to soak it all in. Then, like a jackhammer to the chest, it hit him—the realization that he was back in the meat wagon, wrapped in flesh and bone.

“Have a nice nap, chump?” A blue flame flickered to life in his mind.

Shock wired his senses, sending his pulse racing. He knew that voice. It was the last voice he heard before he’d died.

As his shock eased, Joe had the urge to challenge the arrogant prick. Who the hell are you calling a chump? He yelled at the flame in his mind.

“Why you, of course. You have no idea what you were saying yes to and now you are stuck here. Unfortunately, so am I. It’s beyond exhausting, so for now I’m going to sit back and enjoy the show.”

The blue flame flickered before fading away.

Show? What show? Joe bet the pompous flame creature, or whatever the hell it was, loved being all metaphorical and dramatic.

Hey come back!

Silence.

Just great! What if he hallucinated the whole thing? After everything he’d been through, losing his marbles was the least of his worries. Joe pushed that thought aside and turned his attention back to his surroundings.

At first his vision blurred under heavy, blinking eyes. It was a simple task to open his eyes, but it felt like he was lifting heavy shutters each time. For now, all he had was an awareness of his body. He couldn’t move it. He focused all his thoughts on trying to move. Finally, using all the huff and puff he had in him, Joe tilted his head to the side.

Fear gave way to curiosity as he tried to take in his new surroundings through bleary eyes. His head was cooperating.

A small victory.

If he focused again, it would only be a matter of time before the rest of his body did the same. He tried moving his limbs, and relief flooded into him as they obeyed, although jerky and sporadic, like a puppet on strings.

“Rome wasn’t built in a day. Or so I heard.” A raspy voice echoed. “Isn't it a popular saying from your world? Something you should heed.”

Joe froze at the sound of the rasping voice.

He tried to speak, but words were beyond him. He tried harder, every part of him straining to sit up and take in his surroundings. But his body refused to fully cooperate.

“Stop flapping like a dying fish; you’ll injure yourself.” Whoever spoke seemed cock sure of himself and his voice held a weight of authority.

Joe stopped moving.

His eyes darted about, trying to locate the source of the voice, but no figure appeared in his vision. Taking a calming breath, he steadied his gaze until the mist lifted from them. Everywhere he looked, there were walls that pulsed as if they were alive.

Squinting, he honed in on the ceiling, which was a web of shiny tubules the color of old blood. They throbbed with life, holding up the roof that looked like it was stitched together from dragon scales.

As his senses returned, sharpening his vision, what he saw fed his curiosity about his strange new surroundings. Part of him wished he could reach out and touch the rippling walls and he wanted to get a better look at the strange units embedded into them. The units were like computer consoles from some retro, space-age game.

“I can’t take you seriously with that vacant look on your face.” The voice rasped, louder than before. “Time is more precious than gold here, and I don’t waste it on morons. Close your mouth, open your eyes, and listen very carefully.” The razor edge in his tone told Joe it was best to comply.

“That’s better. I’m a very busy person; the last thing I need is to regret wasting mana bringing you here. Now, welcome to the induction room. You won’t be here long, but you’ll do well to make every second count!”

Everything happening—the pulsating room, the return of his senses, and the commanding voice—chilled Joe to his core.

"Wad du meem, I won't be 'ere looong?" Joe's words sloshed out of his mouth like a drunken sailor, his tongue and lips staging a clumsy mutiny against coherence.

“You will address me as 'My Lord, Darkness Everlasting.' Feel free to embellish, but something along those lines would suffice. And no questions. Speak when spoken to, and enunciate your words, capisce?”

Joe shook his head. Who was this wise guy?

He was soon sorry he asked.

A colossal screen flickered to life, unveiling a stomach-churning skeletal figure. Joe gulped.

Thank the stars my belly's empty.

A quick glance southward revealed he was rocking nothing but tighty-whities.

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

What the hell?

His mind was a hive of questions, each one more bizarre than the last. Whose body was this?

A bone-chilling notion slithered through him, straight out of those Isekai tales he'd read by the dozen. What happened to the poor soul who used to be in charge of this flesh-mobile?

A stream of answers swirled in his mind. None of them brought any comfort.

“You look rather pale. I can fix that.”

A rush of warmth flooded his new body, bringing with it a feeling of strength.

With the warmth came an ease of movement as the grogginess that had plagued him went away.

“I think you’ve had enough time to adjust to your marvelous new body. You can thank me by promptly getting up off that gurney and following my instructions.”

Now that Joe could see clearly, looking at the screen, he could make out the skeletal form of the voice addressing him in sharp detail. If a Romero zombie and Skeletor had a baby who grew up and joined a death metal band, this guy would be the result.

Joe was surprised by the coolness when his hands clutched the edge of what he was lying on. Slowly, he raised his head, his eyes widening at the sheer size of the room.

An induction room, that’s what that Skeletor creep had called it, hadn’t he? If that was the case, what the hell was he being inducted into, dressed only in white undies?

That thought prompted him to sit up; he jerked forward, pumping his knees to his chest, with a painful crack.

A sigh of exasperation echoed from the screen, but Joe focused on getting his new body off this damn cold gurney and into a standing position.

Swinging his legs over the side, he slid off, planting both feet on the ground. He jolted in surprise as it rippled under his soles and was surprisingly warm. Looking down, it looked much like the ceiling, shimmering with dragon scales. These were multicolored and pulsed with a strange blue glow.

In the moment of silence that followed, he swore he could hear a distant drumbeat, like the lub-dub of a heart.

As he moved his hands up to touch his face—hands he didn’t recognize—that distant sound was replaced by the hammering of his heart. The contours of his face felt different.

It shouldn’t have come as a surprise; logically, he knew he was in another body, but a part of him was slow to take that in. A sudden urgency to find a mirror came over him. If he saw what he looked like, he could deal with that and get over the shock.

Pulling his hands away from his face, his eyes turned back to the screen. Knowing more about his captor would help him learn more about himself. Could he risk asking a question?

“I could tell by the puzzled look on your face, it finally dawned on you you’re not in Kansas anymore. Kindly move to the table over there. There’s fresh clothing; put it on.”

Joe straightened. He had learned a thing or two about bullies over the years. If he crumbled at this early stage, he might as well put a 'kick me' sticker on his back. He crossed his arms. “I’m not moving until you tell me who you are, whose body this is, and where the heck I am.” He raised his chin and stared with defiance at the screen, hairs raising on the back of his neck, knowing the risk he was taking.

Skeletor clucked his ragged tongue; it snaked out, all mottled and yellow-gray, like an eel from a deep-sea vent.

“You will address me as 'My Lord,' and if you don’t move your bony little human buttocks, I will slice them off along with that joystick in your pants. And that won’t be the only thing I confiscate. You see that steel tray beside the neatly pressed clothes I want you to put on?”

Joe’s mouth pressed into a thin line, hands clenched by his side as he begrudgingly followed his gaze.

There, by the bundle of clothes, which looked like a gray sweater of some sort, was a metal tray. His eyes bulged, his feet stumbling as he raced towards it, heart pounding with the heavy thuds of his feet. He fell forward, gripping onto the table with the tray on top, and held on like it was a life raft.

He pulled himself upright, eyes leveling on the contents of the tray. His breath caught; eyes blinking, he gripped the edges of the table tighter, afraid to touch the items there in case they disappeared in a puff.

A cackling laugh echoed from Skeletor. “How amusing, I made the right decision in bringing you here. No matter the outcome, at least I won’t wither away from boredom. As a reward for making me laugh, you may ask a question.”

Joe focused on the tray. Every single item there had been on him when he died: a family-size pack of seaweed, his wallet, his phone, and last but certainly not least, that book, A Titan's Core.

There was only one question he needed the answer to.

“How did you…” His mouth suddenly dry, he licked his lips and swallowed hard. “How did you bring those items here, wherever 'here' is?” He snuck in the last part, hoping it might draw a two-part answer.

Skeletor leaned forward, his background a blur until his face took up the entire screen. His eyes were like dying stars, looking to suck him right in.

“I was hoping you would ask that.” He shifted back, revealing a bony hand. Each decrepit finger tapping his chin clinked like tea cups made of fine bone china. “Not to humble brag, but as a Lich Master, looting dead bodies is one of my specialties. Surely you know about such things; there are games in your world where you kill monsters, loot their cores, and the numbers go up. I like to borrow ideas from all the worlds I’ve observed—I find it rather amusing. You better live up to the high expectations I have of you. I detest boredom, and I’m sure you could understand that, for being as long-lived as I am, it can be quite a challenge to find new things to keep me entertained.”

Joe gritted his teeth; no way he’d be a Lich Master's plaything. But the information he had just been freely provided with gave Joe some ammunition. He looked up at the wall facing him, seeing a dark screen not unlike a PC monitor back home. He didn’t agree with the old man back in the shop that knowledge was a curse. Knowledge was power, and Joe would use every bit of knowledge he had to strip this Skeletor Metal Head of all the power he had.

He opened his mouth, but the Lich Master waved him off. “You asked your question; I answered it. Now let’s move on. Get yourself dressed and pick one item.” Joe’s eyes shifted to A Titan's Core and the bulky packet of seaweed.

“Before you get any notions, the book is there merely to show you it still exists. While it is on your tray of belongings, we both know it doesn’t truly belong to you.”

“But I…”

“Close your trap before I permanently close it for you.” His voice boomed, shaking Joe to his core.

There was a deadly power to it; it had a tentacle reach spreading through him, forcing him to do what the Lich Master commanded. Having his will controlled like that made Joe sick to his stomach.

Staring at the dark screen above the table with the tray and clothes, he saw his darkened reflection. The face staring back at him, wide-eyed, while a stranger looked human, with dark shaggy hair as far as he could tell, of a similar age to himself as when he died, clean-shaven, and his eyes…

His eyes and his features reminded him of his friend Tao. They’d met when Joe was a freshman in college, and Tao joined through a student exchange program from China. Was this body originally from Earth but died here?

Joe struggled, desperate to join the dots. Liches could reanimate the dead, so why would he summon a new soul into it instead?

The Lich Master's rasping voice broke through his thoughts. “That’s better, let’s start again. Get dressed and choose one item.”

This time, Joe didn’t hesitate. He never wanted to feel that loss of control again, those mind tentacles leeching off the little freedom he possessed. He picked up the gray sweater, keeping his eyes on the tray.

There was a burning itch to pick up the book; it held the interest of the Lich Master, and Joe wanted to know why. He filed it away for later and focused on the other items.

Not knowing where he was, beyond the induction room, and not being allowed to ask any more questions didn’t help to make an informed decision. Given what he did know, it was unlikely he was anywhere on Earth, or near Earth, meaning his phone would be of little use. Besides, Xcom's cheap and cheerless service had a crappy network; it barely worked in his hometown—doubtful it stretched to wherever the hell he was now.

As for his wallet, if he opened it, butterflies would fly out, just like in those cartoons. He held onto it for sentimental reasons; it kept photos of his sister and granddad, but he didn’t need to look at those because their faces were still etched in his mind.

That left the family-size packet of seaweed.

Who knew how scarce food would be here? It was a practical decision and also much more than that.

He looked away and back to the sweater in his hand. As he shook it out, he realized it was actually a hoodie. At first touch, it felt cotton-soft, but as he rubbed the fabric between his thumb and forefinger, he noticed a strange sheen. He shrugged it off, noticing a white vest. A perfect match for his white undies.

Who cared for such things?

He put the hoodie down and put on the vest. It felt warm against his skin. As he pulled on the hoodie, the Lich Master called to him.

"Have you made your choice? Sure, you can multitask. A skill you'll need here."

Pulling back the hood, Joe picked up the next item of clothing, dark gray cargo pants. "I have." A small smile crept onto his lips as he bent down to put on the cargo pants.

"Well… Spit it out. I haven’t got all day, you know." Eagerness in his voice meant something; Joe just had to figure out what exactly.

Once the cargo pants were on, he grabbed the boots sitting to the side by the tray. Before putting them on, he looked the Lich in the eye. "I choose the pack of seaweed."

No response came, and Joe dropped to one knee and put on the boots, tying the laces under the cold, hard stare of the Lich.

Was he trying to set him on edge? If so, it was working, but damned if he'd let that son of a Lich know.

Finally, the Lich's voice shattered the silence. "Interesting choice. Now let's move on, shall we?" He snapped his bony fingers, the sound like jittering insects made Joe's skin crawl.

He nodded, rolling his shoulders back, stretched his limbs, testing out the flexibility and reach of his new clothes. Lightweight and comfortable, that was the start; the boots were a good fit too.

"So, I'm sure you're wondering, that curious little mind of yours, why you are in that body. Right now, you are inside a tower that sits at a magical crossroads, if you will. Like ley lines in your world, this is a focal point for mana. I know you have stories littered with that term, but in your version of reality, rather backward if you ask me, you have no mana out there. Therefore your body had no resistance. If I had brought you here before you died, you would’ve lasted mere minutes before dying from mana poisoning.” The Lich paused as though he’d maintained a habit for breathing. “The body you are in is classed as a human race, but one who was raised in a magical world, like those cultivation novels I’m sure you’ve read. This body you now inhabit will also adapt better to the environment, tolerate mana, and be able to integrate with the system here."

Integrate with the system, Joe did not like the sound of that. It must have been written all over his face because the damn Lich Master’s rotting face lit up with amusement.

“Now that’s over there’s someone I’d like you to meet.”