So, how did you die?" I finally asked him once I'd managed to calm myself down. My heart was still racing, but curiosity got the better of me. He dodged the question, saying he'd explain later. Figures. So I switched gears and pointed at the floating words in front of me that looked like something out of a sci-fi movie.

He explained that I'm hosting something inside me called the system. Apparently, almost every living being in the known universe uses it. It's not just about surviving; it's a whole way of life. But the real news? This guy—if he's even real and not just a figment of my imagination—had just casually confirmed that aliens exist. Yeah, aliens. Real, actual aliens out there in the universe. My mind was blown. That's way more shocking than finding out the system is basically a real-life video game.

"The known universe is tiny compared to the real universe," he said, settling comfortably into the seat in front of me on the top deck of the bus. He looked completely at ease. "But when you compare it to Earth, it's enormous. Trillions of beings live across the Milky Way, where the known universe is located."

I just nodded, lost in thought as my mind processed the nuggets of information he was releasing. I glanced out the window, watching houses blur by as the bus sped along. I was on my way to my job at Mr. Mann's shop, and this guy—who still hadn't told me his name—seemed to have decided to come along for the ride.

"What's your name?" I asked, breaking the silence.

"Heh, funny you should ask. I don't remember," he said with a smirk.

"Because you're dead?"

"Probably. Or maybe I just forgot. Why don't you give me a name or call me X10."

"Nah, you need a proper name," I said, shaking my head. "How about... Bagley?"

"Hmm, what does it mean?" he asked, tilting his head curiously.

I shrugged. "No idea. It's just the name of my old primary school teacher. You kinda remind me of him."

He smacked his lips thoughtfully. "Ah, something with sentimental value. That's good. But when choosing names, whether for yourself or someone else, it's best to pick ones with good meanings. They often reflect who the person is. What does your name mean?"

I looked down, a small smile tugging at my lips. "Mine? It means 'to remember.' Or at least, that's what my mom told me."

"To remember..." he repeated softly. "That's a fine name."

"So, now that I know you're both real and not real... what's the deal? What's my purpose as this Apostle of the Death Lord?" I asked, feeling a mix of excitement and anxiety.

"Ah, yes. But before we get into that, I need you to say something," he replied. "You can say it out loud, whisper it, or even just think it in your head. Whatever you're comfortable with. Say 'status.'"

I quickly scanned the bus. There were only a few people around—a couple of adults engrossed in their own worlds and some kids chatting in the back. No one was paying attention to me. Once I was sure no one would hear, I whispered, "Status."

Profile:

Name: Zakir Osman

Class: Apostle of the Death Lord.

Lesser Souls:

Normal Souls:

Greater Souls:

Absorbed Souls:

Abilities:

"Whoa," I whispered, my eyes wide in disbelief. Right there in front of me floated a blue screen, softly glowing. It had my name on it, along with a bunch of other details about souls, abilities, and something about a class. It wasn't exactly like a video game, but it was close enough to make my heart race. Usually, games have stats like strength, agility, or endurance. But this... this was different.

"I know this is overwhelming," the man said, his voice a mix of apology and condescension. "For your primitive species, this is a big deal—no offense. But I need you to focus. It's important you understand how all this works."

I nodded slowly, even though my mind was spinning like a top. Questions swirled in my head, but I couldn't find the words. He reached into thin air and pulled out a pair of glasses, then slipped them on like it was the most normal thing ever. That only added to my confusion.

"As the Apostle of the Death Lord," he began, waving his hand like it was nothing, "and yeah, I know, it sounds terrifying—but it's really not. You have mastery over souls now. You can use them to enhance yourself, break free of human limitations."

I frowned, trying hard to wrap my head around all this. "How exactly does having souls help me break my limits? And where do I even find them?"

Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

He stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Good question. It's probably easier if I show you instead of just explaining—"

"Hold up," I cut him off, glancing out the window. "My stop's here."

I stood up and made my way to the exit, feeling his gaze following me. Stepping off the bus, I looked around, trying to get my bearings. Dad had told me Mr. Mann's shop was on a commercial street. I scanned the area—jewelry stores, clothing boutiques, cafés buzzing with people—so this had to be Halford Street. But where was Mr. Mann's place?

After walking for what seemed like ages, I still couldn't find it. Frustrated and a bit anxious, I pulled out my phone and typed the postcode into Google Maps. To my surprise, the shop was a good 30-minute walk from here. Seriously? Half an hour in the wrong direction.

Sighing, I started walking in the right direction, my feet already aching. After what felt like an eternity, I finally reached Mr. Mann's newsagent. Just as I was about to go in, something caught my eye. A white van was parked outside. Two guys were at the back of the van, chatting loudly. One wore a blue turban, and the other looked like your typical English bloke. I hesitated approaching them for a moment, wondering what they were up to.

"Alright, Mann? Got your delivery for the week—13 boxes of crisps, drinks, and other bits. Everything’s listed on this paper," the delivery man said, handing over a clipboard.

Mr. Mann took it, glancing through the inventory while they exchanged a few words. After signing the sheet and giving back the clipboard, I figured now was as good a time as any to introduce myself.

"Um, hello Mr. Mann, I’m Zakir, Yasin Osman’s son," I said, trying to sound confident.

He turned to me, his face expressionless. "Hm, so you’re Yasin’s kid, huh?" He checked his flashy gold watch. "You were supposed to be here at 8:30."

A wave of panic hit me. "Uh... my dad told me to be here for 9. That's what he said."

He looked me up and down, then burst into a deep, booming laugh. The delivery man chuckled along.

"You should've seen your face! Looked like you saw a ghost! Hahaha! Nah, I'm just messing with you—nine is fine," Mr. Mann said, still laughing.

"I think you should kill him," Bagley muttered from atop the van, his tone amused. "You need souls. He's perfect after mocking you like that."

"Kill him?" I whispered back, making sure no one else could hear. "No way. He was just joking."

"Do you humans have no dignity, no pride? How strange," Bagley mused.

I sighed. "You've got a lot to learn about us."

Mr. Mann cleared his throat, snapping me back to reality. "I don't know what you're mumbling about, but if you're done, there are boxes that need moving."

"Sorry," I said quickly and started unloading the van. Some boxes were heavy with juices and alcohol; others were lighter with chips. My arms ached, but I kept at it until every box was inside.

As I was finishing up, I noticed a girl about my age in the shop. She wore a patterned scarf around her head, a worn fleece jacket, and blue jeans. Her hair was pulled back into a bun, and her pale cheeks had a healthy, rosy glow.

"Let me help you with those," she said, offering a kind smile. She effortlessly picked up a few boxes and set them on the counter beside me.

"Oh, she's nice," Bagley commented. "It's a shame we can't take her soul, given her personality."

"We're not taking any souls, Bagley," I snapped quietly.

"How will you grow stronger, Zak?" Bagley pressed. "Do you mind if I call you Zak?"

"That's fine, but why do I need to grow stronger? And why would I need to kill people to do it?" I asked, frustration creeping into my voice.

Before Bagley could say anything, Mr. Mann's voice cut through the air. "Hey! New guy! Not slacking off on your first day, are you?" His words filled the entire shop.

"No, sir," I replied quickly, turning to face him.

"Good. Have you stocked the shelves yet?"

"Not yet, but I'm starting right now, sir."

I rushed to open the box but wrestled with the stubborn tape. My nails were useless. Frustrated, I pulled at the edges, and then heard a quiet cough behind me. Turning around, I saw Mr. Mann watching me, his eyes narrowing. My heart skipped a beat, panic creeping in. Before I could react, a girl appeared beside me, offering a box cutter with a friendly smile.

"Here, use this. I'm Harleen, by the way," she said, her tone light.

"Thanks, Harleen," I said, relieved.

"Don't mind my dad," she chuckled softly. "He can be a bit fussy."

I smiled back, feeling the tension ease. As we both started placing items on the shelves, another cough came from behind us.

"Harleen, you're supposed to be stocking those items at the end of the shop," Mr. Mann scolded sharply. Harleen sighed, dropping what she was holding back into the box. "Catch you later," she whispered before walking away to the far end of the store, leaving me alone with him.

Mr. Mann moved in close, his face mere inches from mine. His breath brushed against my skin, making me uneasy.

"Just so we're clear," he said in a low, threatening tone, "that's my daughter, and she's off-limits. I'm the boss here, not her. What I say goes."

I swallowed hard, nerves jangling. "Yes, sir."

Suddenly, he smiled and gave me a hard pat on the back, like everything was fine. "Good," he said before disappearing through the door at the back.

For the rest of the morning, Harleen showed me around, explaining what I'd be doing. Stocking shelves, running the register, keeping the place tidy. As we chatted, I learned a lot about her. She was a year younger than me, studying chemistry, biology, and physics at a local college. Her dream was to get into Cambridge to study medicine—a world away from anything I'd ever considered.

But there was a sadness in her eyes. She felt she couldn't chase her dream. She was scared of what her father might say if she told him, and it all seemed tied to what happened with her mother. Harleen's mom had died when she was young, and it had always been just her and her dad since then. They leaned on each other, supported each other through everything. She didn't think her father could handle being alone if she left. But honestly? I thought she might be projecting her own fears. Maybe she didn't want to leave him behind.

I tried to connect with her as we talked, but I couldn't really relate. I felt bad for her, sure, but in my mind, if I had the chance to leave my dad, I wouldn't hesitate. If anything ever happened to my mom, there's no way I'd stick around. My dad could marry someone else for all I cared. I'd be just fine on my own.