Until the day I died, I lived a pretty simple life. Born an orphan, I struggled against all odds to reach the age of 18. Once, I was of legal age, I joined a company and became a handyman who did odd jobs here and there to make a living. Painting houses, cleaning homes, delivering goods, wiring electronics, anything. I took any job that was available to make money and made sure to excel at each and every one. I was quite good at my jobs and it gave me the opportunity to get back at those who had forced me into the bottom rungs of society.

Although I made a lot of money working, I couldn’t even enjoy it. My life had turned into a repetitive slog, a mind-numbing experience of doing the same thing over and over and over. I spent my time preparing for a job, doing the job, and resting briefly before repeating the cycle. Day in and day out, it was the same thing and I could feel my rebellion, my anger at the world that drove me to excel slowly being worn away as it was replaced by a bone-deep weariness, a lust for a change, and an opportunity to do something that wasn’t dictated or ordered by another person.

The only thing that broke up my monotony was reading. I spent my time devouring any book I could get my hands on. Fiction, nonfiction, scientific texts, self-help books. Anything I could find, I read. It was an escape, a spot of color in my otherwise bleak life, and my salvation as I hoped for something better.

Eventually, I began reading fantasy novels as a way to escape reality. They helped to transport me to a different world during the few moments of downtime that I had. One series caught my eye and I was unable to put it down.Heroes Rise Again. It wasn’t a revolutionary series, just one of many that had a fantasy theme with dungeons appearing in a modern world with people gaining powers and becoming heroes and villains. Although it was a completed series, I had diligently avoided spoilers and intentionally slowly read through it, one book at a time, savoring it as if it were a limited-time dessert. The reason for my attraction to the series was something so stupid that even a child would laugh at it. Simply put, there was a character who had the same name that I did.

Asani Martin.

He was a stupid villain who tried to rebel against the order of his world and kill the heroes due to an undefined grudge from his past. Truly, he was an idiot who refused to hide his identity and animosity against the heroes. He acted dumber than rocks, frequently showed off during battles, monologued while his opponents attacked him, and allowed his enemies to power up among other things. All in all, I had never read such a dumb, frustrating character in my life.

Yet I couldn’t stop reading. I couldn’t help but look forward to chapters containing him, hoping that he would somehow win. That he would somehow come out on top. I felt drawn to this character with the same name as me. After all, despite the odds stacked against him, despite numerous defeats and roadblocks, his anger had never stopped. He continued attacking and striving for his goal which seemed unreachable. Unlike me. Goalless and without motivation. A doll living life by going through the motions.

Then he had gotten killed in the most senseless way possible. A character that I liked had suddenly disappeared. After getting halfway through the series, reading thousands of words, and spending countless hours devouring the books, he was gone. And I was angry. I was furious at the author for giving my favorite character a foolish ending that made no sense to me.

In an out-of-character moment, I had written a long paragraph under the author’s post, insulting him for making an incompetent villain since he was clearly biased and wanted his hero to win. I had insulted the author with every word possible in the English language and a few choice words in others. I called him a fraud, and told him even I, a regular person who had never written a poem much less a book could write a better villain than he could.

Then due to frustration, I decided to quit my job as a handyman and retire. After all, I had earned enough money to last me several lifetimes. I no longer enjoyed the work I did so I might as well relax and discover a new passion. Find a new goal to drive me.

Before I could even enjoy my retirement, my life suddenly ended. A vehicle hit me while I was walking back home in the middle of the day. Although it seemed accidental, I wasn’t foolish enough to believe that. A large semi-truck in a residential area continued swerving to hit me even after I dodged it several times. As I lay on the ground, my body broken, my breath whistling and gurgling as blood filled my lungs, I vowed if I had another life, I would live it correctly. I would do what I wanted and if anyone tried to control me, if anyone tried to suppress me, I would destroy them and grind them beneath my feet and make them beg for my mercy.

That was how I died. How Asani Martin, an orphan from earth died. Alone. Broken and bleeding. With no one around me.

When I woke up, my head was pounding and I was in a completely white space with no foreseeable end in sight. The ground, ceiling, left to right. Everything was completely white. When I looked down at myself, my body seemed smaller and frailer than I was used to. My skin felt softer and there were no scars that I could see. When I touched my face, it felt squishy and soft and my hair hung long in my face rather than the usual low cut I carried. It was almost as if I had returned to being a young boy.

“Where the hell am I? Is this hell?” I gazed around coldly and spoke out, glad that my voice was the same.

“No, but that can be arranged.” An arrogant voice spoke out, the voice reverberating all around me.

All of a sudden, the room transformed, and I stood in a decadently decorated throne room. There were enormous pure white marble pillars gilded in gold, ornate statues in different positions all around, and a curved ceiling painted with cherubs and angels. In the center of the room was a large golden throne, raised on an indigo dais. Sitting on the throne in a languid position was an equally large figure.

If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

He had sun-bronzed skin, hair so golden it was almost white, and piercing blue eyes that gazed arrogantly at me. He was impressively chiseled, both face and body, and was wrapped in a Grecian-style toga.

“Who the hell are you supposed to be, a Zeus cosplay character?” I asked in an unimpressed tone.

“Insolent pest, kneel before me.” The being pounded his fist on the arm of the chair and suddenly I felt what seemed like thousands of pounds of pressure pressing me down to the ground. I did my best to resist, teeth gritted while sweat pooled and dripped down my back until eventually, the pressure stopped.

“Interesting. You have quite a strong will. However, insolence will not be tolerated, cockroach. Kneel before your betters.” The being looked down at me in disgust before pointing his finger downwards.

Pressure, a thousand times worse than before immediately pushed down on me before my brain could even register it.

Thud.

My knees immediately slammed to the floor so hard that I felt the marble floor beneath me shatter before unimaginable levels of pain shot through my entire body. When I looked down, all I could see was blood and shards of bones splattered around, painting the once pristine marble red with gore.

“Arghhhhh!!!!” I screamed. Unbearable pain shot through me as I fought to keep my body from collapsing and retching.

“Much better.” The being chuckled darkly. “I’m sure you’re wondering who I am and why you’re here.”

“Arghhhhh! Arghhhh!”

I couldn’t help but keep screaming as I tried to focus my blurry vision and glared at the laughing figure. Regardless of how I tried to raise my body to stand up, nothing obeyed my commands. It was all I could do to remain conscious and upright.

“Sigh. I forget how fragile you cockroaches are. There’s no way we can have a conversation like this.”

The being waved his hands and it seemed as if time rewound its hands. I felt my injuries disappear, the blood and bone shards re-enter my body and meld together until I was simply kneeling on the unbroken ground staring up at the golden figure.

The being disinterestedly stared at me, the way a human would look at a fly that flew into its food.

“If you stand up I’ll kill you. If you talk back, I’ll kill you. If I feel like you’re not listening, I’ll kill you. Your death will be in a manner that makes what you just experienced feel like a tickle. Got it?”

“…fine” I reluctantly answered while holding back the anger in my heart. It wouldn’t be too late to get back at the being once I figured out what was going on.

“Too slow.”

The Being pointed his finger downwards again and I felt my knees shatter once more.

“Be more polite.”

Splat.

“I don’t like your tone.”

Splat.

For the next 30 minutes, I went through a cycle of being healed and shattered repeatedly. I screamed until my throat went hoarse, until my nose bled, and my eyes felt like they would pop out of my head.

Each time I was slammed into the ground, I could feel the embers of my forgotten anger rise up.

Why was this happening to me?

What did I do to deserve this?

How can I kill this bastard?

The thoughts circled my head, the anger keeping me conscious and my vision focused as I glared at the golden being.

Then finally, with a snap of the golden figure’s fingers, everything went back to the way it was.

“Are you ready to cooperate now cockroach?”

The golden figure asked while looking at Asani with a smidge of interest.

Regardless of how many times he shattered the bones of the human before him and brought him to his knees, his vicious gaze never died. He stared as if he would chew his bones and drink his blood if he could. He wanted to test his resiliency to see how long it would take for him to break, and break he would as they all did, but he was running short on time and that annoying thing would come and nag him again.

“Fine. What do you want?” I replied coldly as I glared up at the golden figure.

“I am called The Author but I’ll allow you to call me God. Consider me a being miles high above you. I happened to see the lovely comments you left about my world and story. Among other things, I believe you called my story shit and said you could do better as a villain?” The author suddenly smiled, his teeth stretching unnaturally wide on his face.

I blinked and suddenly The Author’s face was in front of me, its eyes cold even though a wide smile was on its face. “Congratulations pest, this is your lucky day. You’ve been given an opportunity to join my world and you get to play a villain. Aren’t you glad?”

Hearing The Author’s words, I immediately thought about the paragraph I had written and couldn’t help but burst into laughter.

“Don’t tell me you’re doing all this and acting like a Rejected Olympus God edge lord because you got a bad review? Aren’t you ashamed of yourself?”

“You dare-”

“I dare and what about it? What are you going to do torture me? Kill me? Oh no, the horror.” I interrupted with a smirk. Even if it planned on killing me, it clearly needed something from me first, so I might as well take to opportunity to speak my mind.

I shook my head in disappointment before continuing, “You took a good character and wrote him to be shitty and set up your beloved heroes to win. That’s completely your prerogative since it’s your story but getting your panties in a twist and getting your rocks off from torturing me for giving you a bad review is not just lame, it’s degrading.”

“You insolent-”

“Pest, cockroach, whatever. I heard you the first time. Geez. At least be a little creative with the insults. If you need some examples take a look at the review I left you. For example, ‘You'd struggle to pour water out of a boot with the instructions on the heel!’. It’s creative and implies you’re at the lowest level of intelligence without being repetitive. Now you clearly brought me here for a reason so can we skip the intimidation tactics and keep it moving? If this is all death has to offer, I’d like to pass thanks.”

“I don’t like your tone.”

Splat.

After another round of shattered knees and screaming, I couldn’t help but sigh as I rubbed my throat while staring at The Author.

“Are you ready to listen…bug?”

“Do you have some cold water or a cold beer? All this screaming made my throat sore.”

The Author: “……”

“I tire of your antics and the last dregs of rebellion pest. You have a choice to live as I want you to or to perish and have your soul torn apart by me for eternity.”

“Hmm, of course I want to live but not the way you want. Is there a third option?” I asked as flippantly as I could, smiling widely as I saw The Author’s face frown in irritation.

Suddenly, it called my name in a serious manner.

“Asani Martin.”

“What?”

I watched as the angry expression melted away on The Author’s face. It was immediately replaced by the most blissful look I had ever seen, causing a chill to go down my spine.

“I will send you to my world. I look forward to driving you to a level of despair you have never seen before. I will lull you in with everything you could ever dream of, everything you have ever wanted; money, power, women, status. Then I will take it all away before crushing your bones and drinking your blood. You will beg me. You will plead for me to save you. For me and my people to help. And I will laugh before claiming your body and soul. But I admire your spirit so I will give you a chance to ask me any question.”

“Will you exist in this world you’re sending me?”

“….In a manner of speaking.”

“That’s all I need to know. Properly wash your neck and wait for me.”

“You plan on killing me? How amusing.” The Author burst out laughing as if it were the funniest thing it had ever heard.

I simply stared at the golden figure, memorizing every inch of its face and body as I gave it a shark-like grin of my own. Laugh away, enjoy your moment now. Until the day the day I drag you from that throne, throw you beneath my feet, and stomp all over that face, before shattering every bone in your body one by one.

This stupid author had no idea who the fuck it had messed with.

My name means rebellion.

I now had a purpose.

I’m not afraid of anyone.

Not even a bitch ass god like you.

Authors Note: Also if you read ahead, maybe you see the parallel to a certain session 🌚

*Mmm if you don’t know what painting houses means, I suggest you look it up. There’s a pretty good book called I Heard You Paint Houses by Charles Brandt.*