A young man sat behind a desk. He wore a roman style white robe with a huge wig from the Victorian era. He sported a long, twirling mustache and a monocle on his right eye. The monocle was just glass; it did nothing for eyesight. Besides, why would a God need glasses?

Below his feet there was nothing but rock, because he sat on an asteroid. The rock, his desk, his chair, and himself were flying through space at half the speed of light 3 galaxies away from our own. A planet much like Jupiter tried to capture his asteroid, but God flipped it off along with its gravity.

Suddenly, a bright light appeared in front of God, and when it finally subsided, an old gentleman in his sixties appeared. Dressed in a black tuxedo with a golden watch on his wrist, the old man sported a long, gray beard, which almost made up for his spotless, bald head.

Despite his age, he looked dignified, muscular, professional, and sharp. Even the mustached man behind the desk would’ve been intimidated if he wasn't, you know, God.

“Hello Mark,” said the mustached celestial. “I am God. You can call me God. Now, look around.” He pointed towards the countless stars and the space debris near them. His finger then moved towards the giant planet they had just passed. He showed Mark a larger star in the background, and then the almost empty space up in the direction they were going.

“You see that tiny little dot up ahead? That is your solar system. You are no longer on Earth, and that means...” The mustached man made finger-guns towards his guest and grinned.

“I’m... dead?”

“Boom,” God pretended to shoot him and then snapped his fingers while standing up from his chair. “I knew you were smart. Most people don’t get it until I throw a rock through their chests.

Like, you’re in space. You’ve probably gone through some horrific death. Connect the dots, right?”

Instead of responding, Mark tried to touch the desk and his hand went straight through. “So, I’m a ghost, and you will judge me.”

“Nope,” God shrugged.

“No?” Mark opened his eyes wide. “Then am I not worthy?”

“Ha,” God sat back in his chair and waved for the old man to do the same. Since there was no chair opposite the desk, Mark sat on the asteroid, took a deep breath, and with a resigned expression, awaited his fate.

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

“Good news.” God's hand slapped the wood in front of him. “You’re not going to hell. Bad news: You’re not going to Heaven either. For you see,” God averted his eyes, “you died a bit early, by two months to be exact. The lung tumor would’ve killed you anyway, but my idiotic son took truck kun for a joy ride and smashed you out of existence early.”

The old man’s lips parted but no words came out. He knew he was dying, but this was a bit ridiculous.

“Anyway,” the mustached God tapped one of his fingers, “I can’t exactly put you back together, and I can’t give you your time back. And, since you haven’t officially died yet, I can’t send you to Heaven either. So... I have a proposition.”

Once again, God snapped his fingers and made finger guns at his guest.

“I’m listening,” the old man nodded robotically.

“You’ve read manga during chemo, right? So, I will do you the incredible favor of reincarnating you in a fantasy world, with magic and swords and stuff. What do you say?” God grinned from ear to ear and leaned forward over his desk.

For a solid 30 seconds, the old man tried to gather his thoughts. He scratched his bald head, then his beard, and then he adjusted his suit like he had done whenever he got nervous in a meeting. He tried to play with his watch, but it disintegrated upon touch, seemingly unable to withstand the pressures of space.

‘So, the watch is physical, but the suit isn’t? But I’m a ghost and I could touch it...’ Mark waived these thoughts away. This was all so stupid, but he still had to focus.

“Do I get powers?” he looked God in the eyes.

“Nope."

“But, …"

“You lost two months Mark, not a God damn eternity!” God slouched in his chair, crossed his arms, and snorted like a toddler.

“Then,” Mark wracked his brain for an idea. “Can I be born as a prince or as the son of a great mage?”

“Nope. The next prince will be born tomorrow and the next great mage in a century. We’re running out of time, Mark. It’s yes or hell.”

“Or what!?” Mark leaned forward and hyperextended his back. ‘Why does my back hurt if I’m a ghost!?’

While he winced, the annoyed God tapped his finger faster and faster, and a portal started opening behind Mark’s back. It looked like a mirror, or a flattened black hole. Either way, it tugged at his clothes with ever increasing force.

“Can I be born to a mage? Any mage?”

“It’s either a peasant or a slave. Take your pick.”

The portal behind Mark pulled harder on his body.

“A rich peasant?”

“Subpar income.”

“Great mana affinity.”

“No such thing.”

“The son of a scholar or a retired knight!”

“Not unless you want a vagina.”

Beads of sweat poured down the old man’s forehead. As his buttocks got sucked into the portal, he made one last ditch effort to gain some perks.

“A boy with good genes?”

The God paused. “Above average looks and an allergy to fur. Take it or leave it.”

After hearing those words, Mark’s vision went blank.

Fortunately, the silence lasted for only a second, and then several voices reached his ears. One was a man’s, clearly his father. One sounded exhausted; it was likely his mother. The third was his wet nurse, and the fourth... There were tiny steps accompanied by barking.

The first thing Mark saw upon opening his eyes was a long, furry tail. Everyone expected him to cry or smile or giggle. But, the first sound to come out of the newborn’s mouth, the one sound they would all remember forever, was

“Achoo!”