When our average-looking 17-year-old MC found himself laying in a white void, he did what every proper young gentleman should upon entering an endless void of nothingness. Announce his presence.
"Where the fuck am I?!" His high-pitched voice-cracked scream echoed through the bland, empty space.
"You' re dead, my dear marionette." playfully answered his peculiar host.
After he checked out his imidiate surroundings, he came to the only logical conclusion.
"Huh, I always thought hell would be more... you know... hot and torture-ish"
Wondered out loud our protagonist while observing the mysterious stranger. He wore a black bathrobe with small white unicorns as a decor, had short unkept beard, long flowing hair and a gleaming yet somehow very punchable smile.
*Pfff* Of course not! You would have noticed pretty fast if this was hell, trust me."
"Nice!"
Our naive male lead was starting to get his hopes up, after all, he's been a relatively good boy, afterlife could be very pleasurable experience.
"It's much worse than that!" His captor, who looked like a washed up playboy, cackled like a lunatic.
That was enough to cut the remaining strands of hope that the boy kept within his heart.
"God damn it! Death was supposed to END the suffering not START!" Whined the manchild that truly is our MC.
"Oh my, you're an one spicy meatball, aren't you?" Exclaimed his captor in an Italian accent.
This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it
"...w.what?" Utterly confused, our protagonist started mumbling like a toddler.
The kidnaper gently ran his index finger down his victim's lips.
*Shhhh*
hushed the bathrobe freak as he pulled out a lamp out of nowhere and pointed it at the sobing manchild.
"It's interogation time~"
A cheap plastic chair and table materialised in front of them.
"Ok, If I may, I'll start! What's your name, my new little jester?"
the boy took a deep breath as he tried to process what's happening.
"Arata"
Now they were both dumbfounded.
"Huh Arata... So you're Japanese? You sure don't look like one."
The being started scratching his thin chin-hair.
"No... my parents are hardcore weebs."
Explained poor Arata with a melancholic voice as a small tear-droplet ran down his cheek.
„Oh... I ... I'm sorry.“ Bathrobe-man comforted the pitifull creature.
"I... It's alright I'm used to it by now."
Arata finally escaped the unicorn-freaks grasp.
After thoroughly shaking his head and a few slaps to his face the bathrobe-freak reclaimed his usual zanny manners.
"What a tragic backstory, but that does make the plot that more interesting."
That remark was completely disregarded, instead Arata asked a very important question.
"How EXACTLY did I die?! "
"Isekai'd by truck, standard procedure."
"I'm not that dumb nor incompetent to die by a fucking Truck-kun, I'm a man of logic!"
Doubtfuly proclaimed Narcissistic Arata.
"Ara ara rat boy, then try to remember yourself. You were patiently waiting on a crossing and then...."
"And then some bastard pushed me as he smiled with his stupid face... he was wearing a black bathr...... You bastard, you sick deranged fuck, you ABSOLUTE DUCHEBAG you MURDERED me DIRECTLY you ASSHOLE!!!"
...
After a short subjugation and taming of then-feral Arata, the assault on the deity stopped.
"So what's your name?"
Arata asked out of blank.
That completely wrecked his murderers train of thoughts.
"Whoa, that's a real 180°, what happened to your bloodlust and thirst for revenge?"
Unicorn-man now maintained a safe distance from his victim.
"Well, there's nothing I can do about it now, can I? I'm definitely not able to off you, so I'll just try to win with superior mental warfare." Proclaimed now stern-faced Arata.
"OK, ok, chill man, I'm Jazhlauwush" Capitulated the Demiurge.
"Yeah, not happening, I'll just call you Jazz, it suits you." Chuckled Arata.
*Ahhh*
The unicorn-loving god clutched his chest. That single sentence hurt Jazhlauwush's nonexistent heart more than any physical attack could.