By the time evening rolled around, Ethan’s mind felt like a sponge wrung dry. The endless talks about this realm’s purpose, its history, and their roles as recruits had left him mentally exhausted. Still, he stayed quiet through it all, determined to soak in every detail. He wasn’t just listening—he was planning.
I need to start writing this down.
The thought had hit him sometime during the afternoon. His memories of life before this place were fragmented and unreliable. He wasn’t going to let the same thing happen here. When he got back to his room, he’d find a notebook—or even just some scraps of paper—and start keeping track of everything. A diary, maybe. Not for feelings or personal reflections, but for facts. Names, places, rules. Anything that might be useful.
As the sky turned to a soft, hazy orange, the recruits were finally dismissed for dinner.
The cafeteria was massive, its layout practical and efficient. Long rows of polished tables stretched across the room, enough to seat hundreds. At the far end were serving counters, where supervisors and staff doled out portions of food with military precision. Despite the sheer number of recruits filing in, everything moved like clockwork.
Ethan noticed a group of late recruits on their hands and knees, scrubbing the floors under the watchful eyes of a stern supervisor. Their faces were flushed with effort, and their eyes darted longingly toward the tables, where the rest of the recruits were already digging into their meals.
Herbie, who was practically bouncing with excitement beside Ethan, whispered loudly, “Man, I don’t think I’ve ever been this hungry. Do you think they’ll give us seconds? Or thirds? I mean, we’re technically dead, right? Shouldn’t that mean infinite food or something?”
Ethan raised an eyebrow but said nothing, moving ahead in the line.
Herbie continued, undeterred by Ethan’s silence. “Did you hear what that guy said earlier? About Valhalla and stuff? Wild. Like, I never thought I’d end up in a place like this. I figured, y’know, maybe just lights out or some kind of blank void. But this? Feels like a weird mix of military camp and mythology class.”
Ethan gave a faint nod.
The food wasn’t fancy—some kind of stew, bread, and a few vegetables—but the smell alone was enough to make Ethan’s stomach rumble. He took his tray and found a seat with his team. The cafeteria buzzed with chatter, recruits swapping stories about their first day, their theories about this realm, and even some laughs at Herbie’s endless commentary.
Then, the room went quiet.
Ethan turned his head to see one of the recruits—a tall, lanky guy—getting up from his seat. He held his tray lazily, about to toss the untouched remains of his food into a disposal bin.
Before the tray even tipped, a heavy boot connected with his back, sending him stumbling forward. The entire room froze as the supervisor who had delivered the kick stepped forward, his expression a storm of anger.
“Are you out of your mind?” the man roared. He was broad-shouldered and wore a badge with intricate designs—one that Ethan vaguely recognized from the earlier introductions. The name clicked into place: Rudra.
Rudra jabbed a finger at the now-cowering recruit. “You think food just appears here out of nowhere? That you can waste it like some spoiled brat? This isn’t your cushy little life anymore. In the military, every grain of rice, every bite you take, is earned. And if you think you’re too good to finish your plate, then you can go clean the fields for a week and learn some respect!”
The recruit stammered an apology, but Rudra waved him off with a snort of disgust. “Sit down. Finish it. And don’t let me see this again.”
The silence in the room was suffocating. No one dared to speak until Rudra finally walked away.
Herbie let out a low whistle. “Guess we’re finishing every last bite from now on, huh?”
Ethan, without a word, turned back to his tray. He ate slowly, his thoughts lingering on the harsh reality of this place. There was no room for carelessness here. Every action, no matter how small, seemed to carry weight.
The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
After finishing his meal, he said a quiet goodbye to his team and made his way back to the dorm. Alone, as always.
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Ethan stepped into his room, shutting the door behind him with a soft click. The hum of distant activity outside faded, leaving him in peaceful solitude. Kicking off his boots, he stretched his arms over his head, his muscles aching slightly from the laps earlier. As he moved around, his voice drifted into song, low and thoughtful.
"And the stars, they whisper in vain,
Calling out a name I can’t explain,
Every shadow hides what’s true,
But the echoes… they sound like you…"
Ethan’s voice carried the tune softly, half-absent as he sang. He didn’t think about where he’d first heard the song or why it lingered so stubbornly in his mind. The lyrics always struck something in him, though he’d never admit it. He chuckled under his breath. “Not like there was ever anyone special,” he muttered to himself. His smile faded for a moment before he picked up the tune again, louder this time.
"Time will heal, or so they say,
Yet I’m haunted every single day,
By a name, a face I never knew,
But the echoes… they sound like you…"
As he wandered the room, singing softly, Ethan began opening drawers and rifling through the small, sparse furnishings. The search grew increasingly chaotic, with cushions tossed on the floor, the closet doors flung wide open, and a small stack of papers nearly sent tumbling from the desk.
"Guess this is my life now," Ethan sighed, his voice fading. Just as he was about to give up, he noticed the bedside drawer. He opened it, feeling a twinge of embarrassment for not checking there first. Inside was a simple notebook, bound in leather with the letter “D” embossed on the front. A pen was clipped neatly to the back cover.
"Of course," Ethan said, shaking his head with a smile. He grabbed the diary, set it on the desk, and pulled out the chair. Flipping the book open, he stared at the first blank page. After a moment’s hesitation, he clicked the pen and began to speak aloud as he wrote.
"Day One," he said, his voice steady. "I don’t know if this will be a journal, a guide, or just a way to keep my thoughts straight. But if I don’t start jotting things down, I’ll probably forget half of what I learned today."
He paused, tapping the pen against his chin. Then he continued.
"This realm is unlike anything I could have imagined. They say it’s built on the ruins of places like Valhalla and Elysium—real places that were destroyed thousands of years ago. This isn’t heaven or hell, but something else entirely. A place for those who died too soon, unfairly, or… just wrong. That’s how they explained it, anyway."
Ethan scratched the back of his head, messing up his already disheveled hair. He leaned over the diary again.
"Gabriel said our bodies here are just a reflection of what we used to have, crafted from our spirits. It’s why physical conditioning is still important, even though we don’t technically have muscles or bones anymore. We have… something else. Spirit matter, I think he called it. It reacts like a body but has its own rules. Apparently, that’s what we’re supposed to figure out during training."
He tilted his head, humming a few bars of the song he’d sung earlier before jotting down another thought.
"They mentioned something about the old Valhalla being destroyed in a great war, which scattered the souls it housed. Some ended up here. They call this place Genesis, but nobody’s explained why yet. Maybe it has to do with starting over. Or maybe they just liked the name."
Ethan stopped writing for a moment, glancing around the room as if searching for inspiration. He hummed a few more notes before continuing.
"The recruits here come from all sorts of backgrounds. Most were warriors or soldiers in their lives, but some, like me, weren’t. The idea of a second chance is… strange. I didn’t do anything great when I was alive. Not even close. But I guess that doesn’t matter here. Everyone starts from the same place, whether you were a king or a janitor."
He leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms over his head. "Man, this is going to take some getting used to," he muttered.
Ethan flipped back through the pages he’d written, scanning the notes with a small smile. Then his eyes widened as a thought struck him.
"Ah, crap!" he groaned, slapping his forehead. "I forgot to ask for a TV again!"
The frustration lingered for a moment before he chuckled at his own absentmindedness. Closing the diary, he placed it neatly on the desk and glanced out the small window, where the faint glow of moonlight spilled across the horizon.
"Guess I’ll add that to tomorrow’s list," he muttered before getting ready to wind down for the night.