April 30, 2004
Cowl Hospital, Ward 8
The afternoon sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow on 21-year-old Ethan’s pale skin. Born out of wedlock, illness had always shadowed him, and it had stolen his ability to walk when he was only eleven.
Now, fighting cancer, the doctors had given him little hope, leaving him to quietly wait for death. He lay alone, with only his orphanage director for company. The elderly woman, who herself was close to the end of her days, had stayed by his side.
As the sunlight fell across his face, Ethan’s eyes twitched and slowly opened. His dark eyes were lifeless, devoid of reflection, his skin as pale as snow, giving him an eerie look in the soft afternoon light.
“Aunt…” he whispered.
Sitting in a chair by the door, the kind old woman looked up from her novel, squinting through her small rectangular glasses. She smiled gently and closed the book.
“I know. I told the nurse to prepare your meal and water for the night. I’m heading back to the orphanage now.” She sighed, her gaze filled with pity as she looked at the boy, lying on the bed and gazing through the small gap in the window, looking so fragile and alone.
She stood, walked over to him, and handed him the novel with a bookmark in place, gently patting his head before leaving.
As the door closed behind her, the room grew colder and darker. Two shadows lingered in the air, flickering as the sun began to set.
“I... It’s... time...”
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That night, just before midnight, the hospital experienced a power outage. A routine check by a nurse revealed Ethan lying lifeless, his skin pale as moonlight bathed his face. He still clutched a novel titled On the Shortness of Life.
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Somewhere in the cosmos.
Twelve bodies of blinding light shone in the dark void, each one repelling yet drawing the others toward it. Together, they formed an ‘∞’ symbol in the darkness. Occasionally, small white particles drifted in and out of the scene.
“Is this the last batch?” a faint voice asked.
“Yes,” another replied.
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“Line up! One by one, don’t cut the line!” a blonde woman in armor shouted.
“Ugh... Where am I?” Ethan groaned, holding his head as he slowly opened his eyes.
Having died, he subconsciously assumed he had reached hell, especially after seeing two shadowy figures hovering over him since the moment he was told he would die.
He looked down at his feet—his legs, once immobile, were now functional. Then, his gaze wandered around. It was a strange terrain, made up of clouds, with twelve parade-like booths arranged around it. The loudest voice came from the blonde woman in armor, who looked like a modern-day Valkyrie.
As he observed, it was finally his turn.
“Name,” the booth coordinator, a man in a slim coat and reading glasses, asked. His attire was sharp, but his face was aged and unattractive, with pointed ears.
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“Ethan,” the boy replied.
“Don’t look around, boy. There are many here who are better or worse than you. It’s rude. Full name, please. Regulations are strict,” the old man grumbled.
“I don’t have a surname. I’m an orphan,” Ethan answered.
“You don’t know your parents’ surname? Your spirit says otherwise. Never mind. What was the name of the place you were raised in? Orphanages, I hear, are a thing now.”
“Uh... I grew up in the Sunshine Childcare Home,” Ethan said, scratching his head awkwardly.
“Do you want me to call you Ethan Sunshine? Or Ethan Sunshine Children’s Home?” the old man asked seriously. Then he shook his head and extended his palm.
Ethan hesitated before placing his palm in the old man’s grasp. The old man’s eyes closed as if sensing something beyond Ethan’s physical form.
“Hm... fascinating. You’re haunted by wraiths... pesky little things. Your bloodline is faint, but it connects to someone we have records of. Eryndor... You carry the blood of Eryndor. From now on, you will be called Ethan Eryndor.”
The old man opened his eyes and began typing on an old-fashioned typewriter.
“Now, place your hand on this stone, boy,” he instructed, interrupting Ethan’s thoughts.
The stone was smooth and blue. Ethan cautiously extended his hand toward it, a habit formed after years of illness that had taught him patience and caution. He was used to waiting, steady in his movements.
Just as his fingers neared the stone, the old man interrupted again.
“Well, that’s it. You’re eligible. Sign here and go through the left door. The Valkyrie over there will explain the rest. Next!”
“But I didn’t even touch the stone—”
“NEXT!” the old man waved his hand, and an invisible force guided Ethan’s fingers to sign on the paper. Before he could protest, he was shoved toward the left door.
With a loud bang, the door closed behind him.
The old man opened his eyes and looked at the paper Ethan had signed, then rolled it up and threw it toward the horizon, as if sending it to someone.
“The Lord will surely take a liking to him...”
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“Ethan Eryndor. Having awakened the ability to use Prana, you now have two choices. Become a Soldier or work for the realms for 1000 years and reincarnate. We suggest you become a Soldier as your latent talent is above average. The risks are high, but the rewards are great. You will gain strength quickly and be exposed to new experiences.” The Valkyrie said, her eyes glued to the monitor in front of her, displaying Ethan’s basic data.
“Uh... What?” Ethan stammered, confused.
The Valkyrie rolled her eyes.
“Hah... Hand me the paper you signed.”
“Um, the old man pushed me before I could even grab it. Haha...” Ethan laughed awkwardly, wishing he could disappear.
“FUCK! OLD MAN! YOU OLD BASTARD, CHARON!” the Valkyrie shouted in frustration.
“Ugh... You youngsters have no patience. I’ve gotten old... senile,” a voice came from the door. A parchment flew in.
The Valkyrie gritted her teeth and opened the parchment. Her expression flickered as she glanced at Ethan, who was still trying to smile his way through the awkwardness.
“Well, well, you’re lucky, newcomer. A powerful god has noticed you. You no longer have a choice. For now, you’ll be a rank 0 Soldier.”
“Uh... What’s going on?” Ethan asked helplessly. His brain was overwhelmed by everything happening so fast.
“Don’t worry. Just think of this as the afterlife and a second chance. More will be explained later. Sandra, take him to the teleportation chamber and assign him to region 13.” The Valkyrie spoke into her headset.
“Mr. Ethan, please come this way,” said Sandra, another Valkyrie, leading him toward a gate.
“Beyond this gate is region 13, or as the locals call it, the land of Hellfire. Don’t assume it’s hot and gloomy from the name. It’s actually a tourist spot in the realm. Once you pass through the door, you’ll be sent to the rank 0 dorms. There, you’ll find a guidebook that should answer most of your questions. For more complex ones, save them for higher-ranked individuals. Have a good journey.” Sandra explained before gently pushing Ethan through the door.
“You really do like pushing people through doors,” Ethan muttered, feeling helpless.
“Don’t mind me,” Sandra smiled innocently.
“Let me ask you something,” the older Valkyrie said, turning to Sandra. “How many times has this god blessed a soldier?”
Sandra looked up, stunned, as she recognized the signature on the parchment.
“I can’t believe it. He finally took notice of someone. It’s been over 8,000 years since a non-servant received his blessing.” The older Valkyrie marveled.
“That old man, Charon, must have sensed something in this boy. No wonder he didn’t hand the parchment to him directly.” Sandra said, eyeing the signature, which now glowed with the unmistakable aura of death. It could only belong to Pluto, the God of Death.