Judd followed Lucas down a narrow cobblestone path. This route was mostly nondescript; it didn’t slope either upward or downward, and the scenery was nothing to write home about.
In fact, the whole place resembled a video game that had yet to be fully rendered. There was fog everywhere, so thick Judd could barely see anything except Lucas and a few pillars near the path.
At the small-town church where he worshiped, this place would likely have been considered a form of purgatory. Indeed, the next words out of Judd’s lips after a few minutes of walking were, “Is this purgatory?”
Lucas swiveled around and growled at Judd. “No, it isn’t. The Guildmistress will explain where you are and what’s going to happen to you.”
Judd’s heart thumped hard against his chest. How odd was it that even after he’d already died, he still needed it to keep beating? (Come to think of it, that led to other questions, such as that of what would happen if he died here. Did he end up in some post-afterlife?)
Eventually, they reached a giant pavilion that resembled pictures Judd had seen of the Parthenon. Columns rose forty feet tall, held together by a roof that, for ruins, seemed surprisingly sturdy. There didn’t even seem to be a need for scaffolding.
In the center of the pavilion stood a slightly plump woman at a brazier, which was lightly burning with some blue flames. The woman wore an indigo dress and had long, flowing hair on either side of her head like a pair of goat ears.
“Guildmistress?” Lucas called out. “Do you have a moment to welcome our newcomer?” The Lucario used the word newcomer as though it were synonymous with fresh blood, which, to some extent, it probably was.
The woman looked away from the fire and walked gingerly over to Judd. She smiled as she sized him up visually, which made Judd cringe as he wondered if she were a demon. The kindest people might be a trap, after all.
“He took the test, didn’t he?” the Guildmistress asked Lucas.
The Lucario nodded. “He did. And his results are in - he showed a high level of courage and a low level of self-preservation. The full report is available on your computer terminal.”
“Yes, thank you, Lucas,” the Guildmistress replied. The woman then turned to Judd; for a moment, the young man wondered if she were going to yell at him, for her smile was somewhat stern.
But then the woman smiled warmly. “I assume Lucas has told you this already, but I would like to welcome you to Jet Force Isekai.”
“Thank you” Judd said, because what else was he supposed to say? That did sound like the answer to the classic question WWJD (What Would Jesus Do?), which always needed to be Judd’s north star.
“You are very much welcome, my child” the Guildmistress responded softly. “My name is Toriel, and I am the leader of this community. We’re all a happy family.”
“That’s nice to know,” Judd said. Is this woman a demon? She’s clearly trying to make me think she’s God, since she calls me her “Child”. But I can’t worry about that right now.
But then something else occurred to Judd. “Why is this place called a guild?”
Toriel winked at him. It was that classic wink that conveyed this message: That’s for me to know and you to find out.
“If you’ll excuse me, my Child,” Toriel continued, “I will need to access your records briefly so that I know which cabin to place you in.”
“Cabin?” Judd wondered aloud. “What is this, a church camp I’d go to with my youth group?”
Toriel shook her head. “There’s no church here except that used to worship Arceus. And it’s more of a shrine than a church, anyway. But that’s beside the point. Wait right here.”
The goat-like woman took out what looked like the grandchild of the most advanced smartphone Judd had ever seen and typed some commands in. Soon, she’d pulled up what appeared to be a report, and Judd tried to peer at it to see what it said.
“Tsk, tsk!” Toriel chided him. “You are not to access your own records, my Child. That’s rather naughty, isn’t it?”
“My apologies,” Judd mumbled.
“The information within is confidential even for the individual to whom it pertains. But it’s okay, my Child. In any case, you will be placed in Cabin Gemini with three people whom I hope can become your friends.”
“I guess I could use some friends.”
“Quite, my Child. Your bunkmates have been selected based on a compatibility index. The criteria for that index remains confidential - you understand that, right?”
“Right.”
“Good. I’m happy we understand each other, my Child. Before you are shown to your cabin, would you like a slice of pie?”
Judd licked his lips, only now realizing just how hungry he’d become. “Is it apple pie?” he asked, fervently hoping for that one All-American™ dish that would provide some degree of familiarity.
“No. It is butterscotch-cinnamon pie. I like to make it to welcome newcomers to my domain. It is the ultimate comfort food, and my Children need all the comfort they can get, don’t they?”
I suppose we do. But I’m still not sure why you keep calling me your Child. I only have one mother, and she’s still on Earth.
“I’ll have to pass on that,” Judd admitted. “I don’t want to spoil my appetite for dinner.”
He half-expected Toriel to announce that butterscotch-cinnamon pie was the only thing they ate here, but the goat-like woman thankfully did not do this. Instead, she simply nodded. “I understand, my Child. Dinner is only about an hour away after all - maybe you would like some afterward.”
Not really. That was a white lie, not that I can say that out loud to someone who treats me so well.
As stated above, Judd didn’t feel like admitting to Toriel that he wasn’t interested in eating her dish, so he instead followed Lucas out of the pavilion and down a slight hill that slowly increased in gradient until there were two cliffs on either side. The sky was still a monochrome gradient, and the fog was still there, even if it wasn’t as dense as it had been before.
“Cabin Gemini is the sixth one on the left,” Lucas told Judd. “They’re arranged like the signs on the Zodiac.”
“Is this related to astrology?” Judd wondered aloud.
“Only insofar as they have the names of the Zodiac signs, such as Gemini, Aquarius, Taurus, Capricorn, and others. Astrology itself is nonsense - that’s hardly a secret, though, is it?”
“No, it’s not a secret,” Judd proclaimed. “There’s only one God, and he doesn’t condone such silliness as astrology.”
The Lucario glared at Judd again, looking primed to growl but just barely resisting the urge to do so.
Soon enough, cabins materialized out of the fog. These were long, low buildings built of stone. From what Judd could tell, the structures barely looked furnished; this was not at all what he’d been used to at his youth group.
“Sixth one on the left” Judd repeated in an effort to memorize what Lucas had told him about the location of Cabin Gemini. The Lucario rolled his eyes at those words. And, as it turned out, Judd need not have worried about finding that cabin, because it was labeled as CABIN GEMINI.
“Well, Judd,” Lucas told him. “Welcome to the first day of the rest of your afterlife. From this point forward, you won’t be seeing me as often, but if you ever have any questions, feel free to contact me.”
“Thanks” Judd replied with the sort of bow he used in church.
He looked at the outside of Cabin Gemini. The door was shut, and the cabin was windowless, so it’s not like he could see inside. But that changed as soon as he opened the door and found himself in what looked like a prison cell.
The walls were made of stone, and cots were bolted to the cold hard floor. Four of them, to be precise. One of the beds had a suitcase at its foot labeled JUDD ASGARD - PERSONAL BELONGINGS.
Well, I wonder what’s in here…
Judd let his eyes turn brighter than the sun as he looked at that suitcase. For all he knew, it might contain his Bible, his T-shirts containing Romans 1:28-32 and other very important verses from Scripture, the state flag of Kansas, or any number of other items important to him.
But then came a sharp tone from a nearby bunk: “Don’t get your hopes up. There isn’t much in there.”
Judd swiveled around, coming face to face with a young-looking woman with piercing blue eyes and brown hair. The woman wore a fierce expression that clearly showed resentment.
She probably hates me because she ain’t me. Then again, being Judd Asgard right now isn’t the biggest flex.
And then Judd realized the implications of what this woman had just told him.
“You…looked through my stuff?” he wondered aloud, his voice rising by the end of that question. “Why?”
The woman put her hands in the air. “I didn’t! It’s just that, judging by what each of us were given when we arrived, all it probably has is your uniform and toiletries!”
Sure enough, when Judd looked at the woman’s body, he saw that she wore a tracksuit striped in an orange and purple pattern with the last name FREY sewn onto it in black. There was also a number on her back just like an athletic jersey would have, except this one was four digits: 2340.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.
“What’s with the number?” Judd asked.
The woman frowned. “It’s the four-digit discriminator they assigned me. After all, it’s at least conceivable that another person with the last name Frey shows up here.”
“Right,” Judd responded. “So what’s your first name?”
Frey-2340, as Judd had decided to refer to her internally, grimaced. “That’s a rather personal question to ask someone you just met, but okay. My name’s Sophie.”
“Nice to meet you, Sophie.”
“Likewise” Sophie responded, though her tone certainly didn’t suggest she meant it.
They did not shake hands; Judd and Sophie just stared at one another for a good thirty seconds before the latter spoke up again.
“Ever since the three of us have been together,” Sophie replied, “we’ve been at loggerheads. That’s a fancy word that means we’ve been bickering a lot.”
“Hey, just because I’m from flyover country doesn’t mean I’m an airhead!” Judd complained.
“Fair enough” Sophie responded, crossing her arms. “Now that we have a fourth member of Cabin Gemini, we’ll see how it all turns out. Maybe you can be the glue that holds us three girls together. Or maybe two of us will fight over you and create a love triangle.”
Wait a minute…I’m stuck in a cabin full of girls?
Oh well, nothing was wrong with that. Growing up, Judd’s religious school had been exclusively male, and others in the same denomination were exclusively female. That was just how it worked. In other words, Judd’s experience with the opposite sex was limited, to say the least, and now he faced trial by fire. But he wasn’t opposed to learning something new.
“So where are the other two?” Judd asked Sophie.
She frowned. “They’re currently in the bathroom - both of them needed to use it at the same time by chance.”
“Wait…” Judd began. “We’re dead now.”
“Yes. Did it take you all day to observe that?”
“But I thought that we were no longer alive, so why do we still need to relieve ourselves?”
Sophie rolled her eyes. “Anyone who eats and drinks must do that. How do you think it comes…you know what? I’m not even going to indulge that sort of humor.”
“I thought there were no stupid questions, though?” Judd replied defensively.
“That’s not a stupid question when you’re nine or ten” Sophie muttered. “But I’m twenty-two years old…or at least, I was. So I think questions like those are beneath someone of my intellect.”
Well then.
Less than a minute later, two other young women exited the bathroom. One of them was a redhead, whereas the other was blonde and vaguely resembled a traditional Southern belle. The pair of ladies were glaring intensely at one another as though they’d just been arguing with great ferocity.
“You two are just in time to meet our new bunkmate,” Sophie remarked neutrally, as though she didn’t think this ritual was worthwhile. “This is Judd Asgard, just like the suitcase said. He just died today, I suppose.”
“Welcome” the red-haired lady replied, holding her hand out for Judd to shake. “I’m Jessica Petty of Massachusetts.”
Judd could have made a disparaging remark about Jessica’s perceived need to flaunt her coastal elite status, but he decided against it. “Hello. I’m Judd Asgard.”
The blonde lady, who looked as though she’d feel more at home in a white party dress than in the skin-tight striped uniform, wore a far frostier demeanor as she shook Judd’s hand. “I’m Marie. Marie Emerson.”
Judd noticed without meaning to that Marie had a ring on her finger. There was probably a story behind that, but he didn’t bring it up. In the afterlife, there would be nothing but time. In heaven (not that this was heaven), you never had to say goodbye.
“Well then,” Sophie said once all the necessary introductions had been made. “Were we about to head to dinner?”
“Toriel told me that it’d be about an hour before it was served,” Judd mumbled. “What was her title again? Guildmistress?”
Jessica nodded, then smiled. “Yes. Guildmistress. I like that title, don’t you?”
“Why do you even care?” Marie snapped. “You’re not Toriel, and you don’t bear it.”
“It’s a reminder” Jessica responded in a tone akin to a mild whine.
“Of what?” Judd blurted out, but before Jessica could answer that question, Sophie interrupted her.
“We’re going to dinner now” she stated as though it were just a non-negotiable fact. “This Meowth-fight will have to continue later. Sheesh!”
“Meowth?” Judd asked. “That’s a type of Pokémon, isn’t it?”
Sophie rolled her eyes. “How do you not know about Pokémon? You literally became a Pokémon in the simulation that Lucas put you through!”
“How…how did you know that?”
“Because that’s what all of us do before we’re allowed in!” Marie exclaimed. “It’s the same for all of us - we’re given a scenario that we must react to!”
Okay. So I’m not alone here. We’ve all got that in common at least.
The quartet made their way uphill toward the pavilion. Because Judd had the longest legs of all of them, he naturally found himself taking a significant lead; not that this was a race, of course. But this also carried a significant blessing, because he needed time to think while away from his bunkmates.
This isn’t the heavenly afterlife I hoped for. But maybe I can earn it, like Lucas said. I hope that my faith will get me through at some point.
Yes, my faith has been tested by the revelation that I’m not (yet) in heaven. But even the most pious monks go through “dark nights of the soul” every so often. That’s when it’s more important than ever to believe.
Inside the pavilion, a couple dozen men and women probably around Judd’s age (or rather, frozen in time around that age) sat at picnic tables that hadn’t been there an hour ago. Some of them were talking to one another in what was clearly a very heated manner, as though bickering about something that, in the grand scheme of things, was quite trivial.
Meanwhile, Guildmistress Toriel stood at the brazier while holding a plate of food beside it. For a moment, Judd didn’t realize what she was doing, and he wondered if she was praying to that false god they talked about here. What was its name again? Arceus?
Anyway, after she muttered something in a language Judd didn’t recognize, Toriel used her fork to scrape a piece of broccoli off her plate and into the flames. The blue flames gained strength for a brief moment, growing high and strong enough that they’d be able to burn through a rope two feet above it in no time at all. They diminished again seconds later, but Toriel still smiled, evidently satisfied with a job well done.
The Guildmistress turned to face Judd. “My Child, you may sit anywhere you’d like. You need not dine next to your bunkmates.”
Judd didn’t respond verbally, but in his mind he figured that this was a good thing. Based on how Jessica, Marie, and Sophie had clearly been in what Brits called a row, he decided it was better to give himself some distance from them, however temporarily.
In the end, Judd saw that only one table had less than three people already at it. In fact, there was only one diner there, a young-looking man with fluffy dark brown hair who wore a suit identifying him as Rainsford, Number 1999.
To keep someone who’s alone company is the Christian thing to do. Jesus, after all, was a champion for society’s outcasts.
“Do you mind if I sit here, Mr. Rainsford?” Judd asked politely.
Mr. Rainsford looked up from the table, which he’d been looking at even in the absence of a plate. “Yeah, sure” he said, though there wasn’t much warmth in his voice.
Still, Judd took a seat next to Mr. Rainsford. And then the other young man (who would not grow old) cleared his throat.
“I know it says my last name is Rainsford,” he told Judd, “but that’s not the name I go by here.”
Judd frowned. “What do you mean?”
“I prefer to be called Mizar. Those are my initials, after all. And yes, I have three middle names.”
“Mizar” Judd responded, trying that word out on his lips. “It has a nice ring to it.”
“Most people don’t agree with you on that,” Mizar replied. “But thank you.”
A few seconds later, plates of food appeared in front of them, appearing to be some sort of pasta salad consisting of ziti, sauteed chicken, and broccoli. Judd recalled that Toriel had put some broccoli in the brazier a few minutes before, and was about to ask Mizar what was up with that when the other man told him anyway.
“Basically, we sacrifice the best part of our meal to Arceus,” Mizar explained. “The nicest bit of chicken, broccoli, or ziti…that’s the part He gets. He gives us our food each day, and in return we give Him some back.”
“ Give us this day our daily bread,” Judd began, “ and forgive us our trespasses…”.
“...as we forgive those who trespass against us” Mizar continued. “Yeah, I’ve heard that prayer before.”
“So you’re a Christian too?”
Mizar grimaced. “I was. Well, if Mormon counts as Christian. But the LDS church kicked me out due to my decision to go by my initials - they thought it was sinful, apparently.”
“That’s wrong,” Judd blurted out.
“Indeed,” Mizar responded, “if they didn’t want me to go by Mizar, they could have just not given me those initials. It’s not like it’s that hard to use one middle name instead of three. But how should I know? I’m not a dad, and I’ll never be.”
“Right” Judd said, hoping this wasn’t interpreted as rubbing it in.
Thankfully, Mizar had bigger fish to fry. “Now we’ll go up to the brazier and sacrifice a small part of our meal. Get in line.”
Judd did as he was told, and soon he was at the front of the line. He couldn’t help but feel a bit uncomfortable at seemingly worshiping Arceus rather than the God who’d sent His only son to save him from his sins, but sometimes you just needed to play along.
When he stood at the brazier, Judd looked longingly at the most delicately sauteed piece of chicken, but he knew that to fit in, he had to give it to Arceus. With a deep sigh, he pushed it into the flame using his fork.
The flame rose, and it smelled amazing for a brief moment. Like, if Judd were an immortal deity, even an idol like Arceus, he probably could have lived off a few seconds of that scent; it would have lasted him at least a few centuries.
Anyway, he took his seat next to Mizar again, where the other man smiled at his meal. “This looks pretty nutritious. It’s got plenty of calories, but most of them aren’t empty.”
Judd frowned. “Why do you care so much about nutrition when we’re already dead?”
Mizar shrugged. “We still have to eat, don’t we?”
“I suppose so. But if I didn’t have to worry about what was good for me, I’d just eat apple pie with the ice cream high for every meal.”
“Look, it’s just a force of habit for me, okay?”
Judd would not argue with that; he could not argue with that. Who was he to judge Mizar for how he chose to live his afterlife?
“Besides, we all get the same meals three times a day,” Mizar said. “So I guess worrying about nutrition doesn’t do me any good. I don’t have any control over what I eat.”
“Fair enough. Anyway, Mizar…”.
“Yes?”
“Lucas, the gatekeeper? He called this place Jet Force Isekai. He said it meant ‘another world’ in Japanese?”
Mizar nodded. “How much do you know about Isekai?”
“Very little, I’m afraid,” Judd responded sheepishly. He didn’t have the heart (or nerve?) that would’ve been required to admit he’d been taught that violent manga was sinful.
“So basically, it means you’re transported to another world. In this case, it’s the world of Pokémon. Only certain people end up at Jet Force Isekai - rumor has it that you need to die between the ages of eighteen and twenty-four, and it needs to be sudden.”
“Huh.” So Pokémon are real? I mean, I guess Lucas is one!
“But something about this one is different,” Mizar explained. “Most of the time, in Isekai media, the person either doesn’t leave their new world or only leaves at the end. The point is, there’s at most one entry and at most one departure to or from that other world respectively.”
Judd followed along, piecing together what Mizar was telling him. “So you’re saying that you enter the Pokémon world more than once?”
“Oh yes. We are periodically sent on missions to that world in order to fulfill a certain objective. It’s almost like a video game, only the most realistic video game you could imagine.”
“And you’ve been on these missions before?” Judd asked, perhaps unnecessarily.
Mizar nodded. “So many times that I’ve lost track. There are quite a few veterans here. And Arceus, I know I’m one.”
“Whoa” Judd muttered, trying to ponder just how insane it would be to go back and forth between worlds like Mizar was describing, as well as the knowledge that he seemingly faced this fate himself. “So what’s it like?”
Mizar sighed. “The first time you get Isekai’d, it’s pretty jarring. After a while, you get used to it. By the tenth time, I thought I knew what to expect.”
“But you never do?”
Mizar nodded. “I never do. The missions get more and more difficult as you go on, just like a video game.”
“I wouldn’t really know,” Judd muttered. “I wasn’t much of a gamer.”
“I don’t blame you. Games these days suck anyway.”
The rest of the meal was fairly uneventful, and the remnants of the “chicken, broccoli, ziti” salad soon vanished from their plates, each to be replaced by a single slice of pie. It smelled really sweet, like butterscotch, but had a hint of cinnamon to it as well; in other words, it was the same pie Guildmistress Toriel had extolled earlier.
“I’m not going to eat this,” Mizar said. “It’s probably got more saturated fats than you can shake a fork at.”
“Me neither. I prefer apple pie, that’s far more patriotic.”
Mizar glanced at Judd. “All-American, aren’t you?”
Judd nodded. “My country’s a fairly distant third to Jesus in terms of what I love.”
“What’s second?”
“Jesus.”
Mizar raised an eyebrow. “What do you love more than Jesus?”
Judd sighed. “You’re getting a bit too personal there, Mizar. I’m sorry.”
“My apologies” Mizar muttered, standing up from his table and walking away from the pavilion, presumably back to his cabin.