I remember when I died.

I think it was...

It was a rainy evening, and although it was a peaceful night perfect for a good night's sleep, it was harsh for me, who had just finished a shift. Looking past the giant spires of concrete with blaring lights shifting past me, I stared at my own reflection in the window of the bus.

I was just a salaryman.

Wait! No, no!

I'm sorry. I remember now, I was a soldier, I had just returned from a tour and I was finally going home to my family! I remember trying to calm myself, remembering what the counselor told me. Clearing my mind, I fastened the luggage I held tightly with my calloused hands.

Securing what little possessions I had, I waved down a taxi to take me home. It was quite cold that night, maybe it's was just my nerves, or the rain.

Definitely the rain.

As I walked towards the vehicle that pulled over, a speeding car passed by carelessly, showering me with dirt-ridden water.

I remember exclaiming in annoyance, but my memory gets hazy after it. I just know I froze for a second after fixing myself up, staring at the turbid puddle by the curb.

Maybe I had a flashback or an episode.

I must've been mentally ill, because that is definitely not my life! I was just a regular peasant, from the kingdom of Drakeshold!

I-m, I didn't know what came over me! Lord forbid, it was an evil spirit!

Hah, It was probably because I've been having a headache about how I was possibly gonna pay the taxes that the officials have been ramping up like crazy!

Wait, tax? I don't pay tax! I set the tax! I'm the king! The King of Britannia doesn't pay tax!

Well alright then, now that I've settled that, I need to go study for my entrance exams...

Don't I have a medical degree?

U-uh... I don't really know, actually. I don't think I've ever done or am any of these, but I don't exactly know which one is real... I don't recognize most of this either.

What I do know however, is that I've definitely seen all of this... before.

I've seen those eyes before. The salaryman with the empty eyes in the bus window. The steely eyes of the soldier that pierced through even the murky water of the puddle. The King with the blazing eyes filled with desire reflected on his golden goblet. The peasant with the despairing eyes. The young genius' vibrant eyes. The old fool's wasted eyes. It goes on and on...

Those empty, void white eyes resembling bleak pearls, the very image of endlessness burned and branded into a spitting image of the barren expanse of infinity.

I've seen it before.

Maybe I'm just having a really bad dream.

Am I in a dream? If so, it's pretty lucid, awfully devoid of- well anything at all actually. I must have died again, I've been through this before.

I must be in the afterlife or void or whatever it is, as opposed to the ever-expanding boundless void of space, time, and matter, I was most likely stuck in the opposite of that, where nothing existed.

Again.

That means however long I spend in here, it wouldn't matter, because time doesn't flow. The last time I died, I could've been there for a few seconds to eternity, or would've been if I wasn't given another chance, and I was allowed to travel along the beautiful but unfeeling march of time once more.

Both a terrifying yet relieving thought.

I-

I'm not really keen on meeting Metatron right now, and frankly, I'm scared. After such big talk and such big promises, I can't come back empty-handed. No traitor blood on my hands, and not a single positive impact on this new world.

"Fortunate. You are spared from such an outcome. Your perceptions are false."

Wait! Is this who I think it is? Does this mean?!

- - - - -

Stolen story; please report.

"Wake up."

"I'm awake."

"Then get up."

Before I had even realized it, I'd exchanged words with a complete stranger. My mind was still hazy and even thinking was like swimming in mud.

Regaining my senses, I realized that I couldn't feel my left arm, but not to the point I would have thought I lost it otherwise.

Luckily for me I could still wholeheartedly stew in the soreness and stiffness of random parts of my body.

Opening my eyes, I let the light filter into my eyes as I took in the sights and smells. I was in a room, fairly humble, yet I could feel the weight of home. The walls were a faint dandelion yellow, and numerous household objects were cluttered freely about the room, as generous and accommodating windows let the natural light shimmer and rest within the room serenely.

Straining my eyes, I could not see any of the modern technology I had come to be so familiar with.

It was a human home, where people lived.

"How do you feel?" I looked to my right, a little startled as I didn't even notice the stranger right beside me.

He was probably the one I was absent-mindedly mumbling to. I looked into his apathetic yellow eyes, they were familiar, and took a brief glance at his attire. A midnight black cassock as well as a purple sash around his waist and cuffs on his sleeves.

'Probably very important, or just likes fashion...' I thought inwardly.

"I am Georges Delacroix, I am a bishop from the Elysian Orthodoxy. I was the one that found you." That answered my question quick! A Bishop... curious, like the ones back home?

"You saved me. Thank you." I said as I tried to hold back the tremors that threatened to spill from my scratchy voice, still gauging the man in front of me. I was getting a weird feeling from him and I wasn't quite sure what to think.

However, I could not possibly forego gratitude, that's just rude. You think I was born yesterday? No! I was born a week ago, plenty enough to learn the wonders of gratefulness.

"It's my duty."

"..."

"..." An awkward silence envelops the room like a heavy blanket.

"..."

"Your eyes."

"Yes? Oh! Yeah, I was... born with them." I wasn't lying, technically.

"They are certainly unique. Fitting for a mystery like you." He said slowly, shifting silently from the bed to the open window.

"Pardon?" I sit up on the bed weakly, seems even that was a labor for me.

"You are not a resident of this town, you have no records or documentation of any kind. I found you in the forest, lacking any clothing or any other basic human possessions, as well as deprived of a stable food source and clean water. Not to mention, the grievous wounds on your person. Your survival is as a miracle, as it is a new mystery." The towering Bishop said, gazing outside freely.

"Well, I-"

"Well, you exorcised a demon."

"So it was really a demon..." I mumble, yet it seemed the man named Georges heard.

"I can understand if you are not familiar. What isn't familiar, however, is how a child who has barely seen ten winters can manage to reduce an underworld creature's vessel to such a pitiful state."

"I assume it's uncommon for such to happen?"

"More than that, it's an isolated incident. To my knowledge, the church does not possess any records of any similar incidents."

"Are you sure?"

A brief pause.

"The closest that comes to mind is when the eighth Pontiff, then youngest Cardinal of the Elysian Orthodoxy, exorcised his first demon during the retaking of the city-state Jacobin at the ripe age of fifteen." Bishop Georges drawled, staring at me with a look that just knew he made me seem even more suspicious.

"Of course, I know of the assistance you received. Interesting really, I wonder just who you are, to receive the favor of the 'perfect creatures'." He continued, picking up an apple from a gift basket sitting on a nearby drawer.

"Who told you that." My tone runs cold, as do my nerves. I don't exactly know the implications of having met, and even having requested and received their aid.

"You did."

All of a sudden, memories come rushing into my befuddled mind like a harsh torrent.

He's right.

Why did I even say that?! That was such a bad move, something must have possessed me or something.

"I saw them." Georges said simply.

I don't know if he was trying to reassure me that I had not made a mistake as there was nothing I could've done, or to seal off any chance of me denying anything.

"Wonderful creatures they are. The emissaries of His word, the sent warriors of the eternal sky, as elusive as the Fae and as far away from human as a demon is, nowhere close to evil however, fortunately."

So far, it was nothing completely new, they sound very similar to my world's beliefs. Considering the existence of Metatron, maybe they are connected in some way? Or the same?

"It seemed I was granted mercy that night."

"Indeed you were, child. In fact, if not for them, you would have instantly been pulverized into a pitiful heap of blood, flesh and agony and given a fate worse than death."

"And that is?"

"Becoming like them."

"I'm not afraid."

"You better have not, otherwise you would've taken those benevolent angels down with you."

"What?..."

"They descended without call, no sacrifice, no blessing, no prayer, and without will, other than the pitifully small amount they have. They risked much, fighting without physical form, fending off the demon's influence from corroding you while simultaneously crippling its strength." Georges explained as my eyes widened in wonder and guilt.

"Why?" I could only ask.

"I don't know, yet. Must be for good reason. They wouldn't have descended nor lasted long, otherwise. The angels originate from Elysium, they are not from here, and therefore they face considerable strain even appearing here. I believe they were using you as a catalyst, siphoning faith and whatever energy they could, from you."

"They aren't here?" I had noticed that the very same faces I had fainted to were nowhere to be seen, yet...

"Could you have possibly asked for more?" No, I really couldn't.

Georges steps back from the window, as the atmosphere turned a tense silence, the Bishop dragged a chair to the right side of the bed.

"You have potential."

"Thank you?"

"Your eyes."

"W-what?"

"Your eyes are like pearls, they reflect everything the world has to show, like a poet's whispering tales across the countryside. Yet, I can't help but notice that I cannot see within these dull eyes. They reflect the light too perfectly, too blunt, it makes you wonder if there were anything behind the mirror. You are a completely empty slate... but I will give you a chance, I will help you find it."

"Find what?"

Bishop Georges leans closer, gazing at my eyes like he were seeing more within them.

"Something to give. To create your own light, instead of being a perfectly bleak mirror."

"You mean?..."

"Child, how do you feel about being taken in by me?" The man named Georges asked, sincerely.