Martin Silence sat in a white-washed waiting room, the sound of someone clacking away at a keyboard underpinning the soft jazz playing through invisible speakers. He flipped through the magazine, leg tapping with barely-restrained anger. 

At last, he set the magazine aside, stood up and stalked over to the receptionist sitting behind her desk. She—he? It?--smiled patiently up at him. When he first arrived in this hell however long ago, he’d been terrified of her appearance: merely the outline of a person bordering a cut-out swath of space, nebulae twirling in her body, her smile a crescent galaxy, her eyes dying stars. Now, he only felt annoyed.

“Is she ready yet?” he asked for what had to be the thousandth time.

“Not yet, dear,” the receptionist said. “I’ll let you know when the Goddess is ready to see you. She’s very busy at the moment.”

He took a deep breath. It’s not her fault, she just works here. “I understand that,” he said through gritted teeth, reaching for politeness and landing somewhere in mild exasperation. “But it’s been quite a while, you know? I’m not exactly sure how much time anymore, which should tell you that it’s been a lot of time.” 

“I understand your frustration,” the receptionist said sympathetically. “Would you care for a mint?” She gestured to a bowl on the counter. 

“No! No, I don’t care for a mint! I’ve already had a million of them!”

“Then, all I can do is ask that you wait for the Goddess’s arrival. I apologize for the inconvenience.”

Martin growled, snatched a handful of mints and headed back to his seat. He knew from past experience the receptionist only had a handful of messages she could say, and after a certain point she would just repeat that he needed to wait.

He slumped down in his chair, shoveling the mints into his mouth. They tasted just like the ones he ate as a kid when he was hungry but his mom wasn’t home to cook. 

Martin didn’t remember much of what happened before he arrived here. One moment, he was crossing the street, riding the high of payday from his part time convenience store job. The next, he was in this room. The receptionist had told him his soul was going to be reborn in another world, and he just needed to wait for the Goddess to finalize his paperwork.

That had been an eternity ago. 

***

He stared at the clock ticking away on the wall. 

He read through the magazines he’d already memorized back-to-front.

He slept. 

He bothered the receptionist some more. 

He ran laps in the room.

He screamed. 

He cried.

He slept again. 

All the while, the clock ticked away.

***

“Sorry I’m late!” cried a new voice. 

“Sokay, Mom,” Martin mumbled, half-dreaming. “Did you win…?” Then his eyes shot open, and he saw someone standing over him, apologetically wincing down.

A rather frumpy-looking woman in a wrinkled pantsuit with messy brown hair and skewed wire-framed glasses was shuffling through a sheaf of papers clutched in her hand, a folder tucked under her arm. She looked like an ordinary suburban soccer mom, save for her eyes: those were pure iridescent, shimmering with an unnatural quality.

The Goddess.

“Ah! Martin Silence from Earth, right?” she said, squinting at a paper. “Says here you were summoned to Deniya about… oh, seventy-six years ago.” She winced. “Sorry about that.”

Martin was fully awake now. He shot up to his feet, and the Goddess stepped back warily. 

“Seventy-six years?” he shouted. “You’re sorry about making me wait seventy-six years?” 

“It’s not like you felt all seventy-six,” she mumbled, shuffling. “Time flows here differently. Did you try the mints?”

Martin didn’t know if he wanted to strangle her or strangle himself. Maybe both. He settled for a strange sob-growl-squawk sound, and she took another step back. 

“Well…” she said. “If you’ll just come to my office, I can get you all sorted out.” 

He didn’t trust himself to speak, so he just followed her quietly, stewing in his anger. The receptionist smiled at him as he passed, and he paused his anger to give her a begrudging nod, then dove right back into it.

A door formed in the wall, and the Goddess pushed it open, revealing a cramped office space, cabinets pushing claustrophobically around a tiny desk. A framed print on the wall read: Live. Laugh. Love. Live Again. She took a seat and gestured for Martin to sit in the uncomfortable-looking chair across from her. 

He remained standing out of principle, arms crossed. “Aren’t you supposed to be a Goddess?” he asked, looking around with a frown. “This place looks horrible.” 

“I’m kind of new to the job,” she said, setting her folder on the desk. “It’ll improve when I get more familiar with it. Before the previous Goddess retired, her domain looked like a palace.”

Bet they served actual meals there, he thought grumpily. 

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“So, Martin Silence,” the Goddess said, reading from her paper again. “Your file here says you were suffused with regret when you died. Why was that?”

“Probably cause I was just about to treat myself to an extra-large meat lovers pizza with garlic bread and a chocolate lava cake.”

“Oh. Huh. Ah… I see. You were very poor growing up, were you not? Absent father, single mother with a gambling and alcohol addiction. You used to go to school wearing the same clothes for a week straight, and the other kids would laugh at you.” She looked up at him with sorrow. “A hard life.”

He shrugged. “It was life. Harder than others, sure, but easier than most. At least I had clothes. But are we really here to hash up old childhood trauma?”

She blinked then blushed. “You’re right. Sorry. That’s not very kind of me. I’m still learning how to do all this. I’ve been… overwhelmed since taking up the mantle of Goddess.” She took a deep breath. 

The tiniest droplet of pity diluted the ocean of irritation he was swimming in. Sighing, he sat down. “So, you said I was summoned to Deniya? Another world?”

“That’s right,” the Goddess said, focusing up. “It happens often. The people there used their access to the System—the process that facilitates magic in the greater universe—to call a worthy spirit to be the hero that slays the Inferna, the plight of evil that had been plaguing their world for centuries.”

“And this System chose me,” Martin said blankly. “A 19 year old part-time convenience store employee.”

The Goddess winced. “There have been some kinks since I took up the mantle. But don’t discount yourself, Martin! I sense a worthy spirit in you. A fighter’s spirit.”

“Mhmm.” Martin rubbed his eyes. “That was seventy-six years ago, though. Is the world a desolate wasteland now?”

“Not quite,” the Goddess said slowly. “As a matter of fact, your, ah, failure to arrive was the catalyst the world needed to unite and band together. They, uh, managed to defeat it working together.”

“Uh huh.” Martin felt the beginnings of a headache coming on. “So the whole reason I was about to be reborn is moot now.”

“Yes…” 

Martin leaned back in his creaky chair and looked up at the water-stained tile ceiling. “Well. That’s just great. Can you let me die now, then?”

“The thing is, I have to fulfill the summoning request. So… no. I can’t.”

“Great. Awesome.”

Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw the Goddess frowning at him. “Don’t you want another chance at life?” she said, confused. “Isn’t that something all mortals dream of?”

He thought about it. “You know that thing I said earlier about life being life and how mine was hard but it was easier than others?” he said after a moment. “I was just saying that to look cool. My life fucking sucked. I used to eat dry ramen noodles for dinner as a kid because I was too scared to use the gas stove, and my mom was never home until late at night. When she did come home, she was usually drunk and made sure I knew how she blamed me for my dad leaving. But at least then she’d talk to me. When she was sober, she pretended I wasn’t there.” He let out a long breath.

“Oh,” the Goddess said, raising a hand to her mouth, tears brimming in her iridescent eyes.

“The worst part was, I still loved her. She was my mom, you know? I thought that she was right, that I was the problem, and I needed to try better, be better, so that she would finally say she loved me. And then she did, after I gave her my first paycheck so she could go to the casino and spend it on slots.” 

The Goddess was openly weeping now. 

“When she came home that night, I was waiting for her at the table, excited to hear if she’d hit it big. It was 3 A.M, and I had school the next morning, but I wanted to see her reaction. She just walked straight past me and into her room. When I close my eyes, I can still hear the sound of her door slamming shut. She of course had lost it all.”

“Stop,” the Goddess begged. “I can’t take it anymore.”

Martin sighed. “So no, I don’t want another chance at life.” He paused. “Unless…”

“Unless?” she said, sniffling.

“Unless you were to make it worthwhile,” Martin said nonchalantly, eyeing the Goddess. “Unless you can guarantee I don’t have to go through that type of hell again.”

“Yes, of course!” the Goddess cried. “I’ll give you a power unlike anything in that world, a power with the potential to grant you untold riches or fame or whatever else you desire!”

Inwardly, Martin grinned. Outwardly, he rubbed his dry eyes and whispered, “Thank you.”

The Goddess manifested a sheet of blank paper and words began to inscribe on it. He stared, awed, at this blatant display of magic. And for the first time since he’d arrived in the waiting room, he felt the flutters of excitement begin to stir.

“Here,” the Goddess said, pushing the paper to him. “The contract for your rebirth. Unfortunately, the stipulations of your summon means I cannot have you be born again into a wealthy family or anything like that, nor can I change the location to a more favorable one. You will be born again as you are now, but with access to the System. Here, you can read the Title and the special Class you will be bestowed.”

Martin ooh’ed at that, looking at the paper at a section titled “Titles and Classes.”

Titles and Classes

The signee of this contract will be given the Title* [Lightbringer], as stipulated by the conditions of the summoning skill that called them to the designated planet Deniya. The Title [Lightbringer] is created to oppose the capabilities of the Inferna, the malignant Core** that once plagued the world. 

*Titles confer special passive abilities to the user.

**Cores are sapient amalgamations of mana and human animus with access to the System.

The signee of this contract will also be bestowed the Unique Class*** [Godhand], which centers around the ability to give [Commands] to any object they touch.

***Classes are the focal point of a person’s expression of their mana.

Martin had to forcefully restrain himself from whooping with glee; already his mind was racing with implications. He instead nodded demurely and murmured, “This is good.” 

“I’m glad you like it,” the Goddess said, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue she’d manifested. “I hope it’ll alleviate some of the distress I’ve caused by making you wait.”

“It surely does help,” Martin agreed.

“Then, all that’s left is for you to sign at the bottom.” A pen formed beside the paper. “Once that’s done, you will be reborn at the designated spot you would have been summoned at seventy-six years ago.”

The reality of the situation sank in. He’d had a very long time in that waiting room to think about how absurd it was that not only was there a deity in the universe, but that he’d be chosen to be reincarnated of all people. Now with the pen in his hand, it was finally feeling real.

I’m about to have another chance, Martin thought, scribbling his signature across the marked spot. The contract dissolved away as he set the pen down. 

And this time, no more dry ramen noodles. I’m going to become the richest bastard this world has ever seen. Screw being the hero. Screw being a [Lightbringer]. 

I’m going to feast and die a fat old man. 

“Goodbye, Martin Silence,” the Goddess said, smiling at him. “I hope this second life will bring you the happiness you deserve.”

“Thank you, Goddess,” Martin said, this time speaking sincerely, his body beginning to fade. “But your hopes are unnecessary.”

The Goddess frowned. “Why’s that?”

“Because this time, I’m not waiting for life to bring me happiness. No, this time, I’m going to take it.”

Martin dissolved.