Artham felt a sharp twinge of doubt, the words echoing in his mind as he listened to the voice claiming to be a god. Is this real? Or am I losing my mind? He clenched his fists, his pulse quickening with unease. Maybe someone slipped something into my room. But who would go this far?

The voice was too convincing, too visceral to be some figment of his imagination. Its tone held a weight of authority, its presence undeniable. But now, it was asking for his soul in exchange for freedom. A god? Really? Why does stuff like this always happen to me?

He remembered the voice’s earlier proposition: leave everything behind and follow its command to a new world, with the price of his soul hanging in the balance. It had spoken with the confidence of one who knew all the answers, its deep, resonant tone brimming with power. Yet, skepticism gnawed at him. This sounds like something straight out of a villain’s monologue before they kill their target.

"I foresaw your skepticism," the voice cut through his thoughts, its calmness almost unnerving. "It’s natural not to trust what you do not understand. But I told you to follow your heart, even if you believe yourself heartless."

Artham’s lip curled, bitterness rising in his chest. "So, you expected me to fall for this the moment you introduced yourself as a god? What next? Demanding my soul like some demented executioner?"

His words dripped with disbelief. He had been lied to, betrayed too many times in his life to believe in anything easily, let alone a disembodied voice claiming godhood.

"You are right," the voice replied smoothly, unbothered by his sarcasm. "I knew your answer before you spoke it. I can see the future, after all. But predicting outcomes doesn’t take away the thrill of the test. And besides, you weren’t certain about your decision until I revealed myself, were you?"

Artham gritted his teeth. The voice was playing with him, he was sure of it. But it was also… right. Somewhere, beneath all his cynicism and defiance, a part of him had been intrigued. What if it was real? What if this was a way out?

He folded his arms, glaring into the void, even though the voice couldn’t see him. "And why ask me to agree to this price if you already knew the outcome? What’s the point in toying with me?"

The voice, ever steady, replied, "Because I wanted to hear your choice. I wanted to know if you had the courage to accept it, knowing the cost."

"And what good is going to another world if you take my soul?" Artham shot back, unable to suppress the flicker of curiosity despite himself. "What’s the point if I’m already hollow?"

There was a pause, and for a moment, Artham wondered if the voice would finally slip, show some crack in its certainty. But when it spoke again, it was measured, deliberate. "Your soul grants permission. There are laws for all things that exist, and even I must abide by them. Without your consent, I cannot send you anywhere. It is your choice that matters most."

Artham raised an eyebrow. So, even gods can’t escape bureaucracy, huh?

The absurdity of it all made him chuckle. "You almost lost me there. Why didn’t you just lead with that? You had me thinking this was some elaborate con."

A smile tugged at his lips, and for the first time, the weight in his chest lifted. Maybe this is the escape I’ve been looking for. What was his soul, anyway? He hadn’t felt anything real in years. His emotions were dull, his life stagnant. If leaving behind his hollow existence meant he could start anew, why not?

"I accept." He exhaled, his grin widening. "Whatever it is, I’m in."

The silence stretched for a beat too long. Then the voice returned, but something had shifted—something darker.

"Contract completed."

Artham’s smile faltered, his heart skipping a beat. There was no fanfare, no cosmic transformation. Just those two words. Wait—what? He expected to feel something—anything—after agreeing to such a monumental offer. But instead, he felt a growing sense of unease.

Then, a laugh—young, light, and carefree—echoed through the space. It was completely different from the godlike tone he'd heard before. It was mocking.

Artham froze, his blood turning cold. "Your voice—?"

The laughter continued, now fully playful. "Hahaha… this roleplay was more fun than I expected! Whew, you should’ve seen your face. Okay, enough of that," the voice said, a chuckle still lingering in its words.

Artham’s head snapped up, his eyes wide with disbelief. "W-what? You… tricked me?!" He stammered, the sudden shift from divine to casual catching him off guard.

The voice, no longer grand or ominous, now carried a mischievous tone, like that of a prankster who’d just pulled off the ultimate joke. "Deceived? Maybe. Entertained? Definitely. You really fell for the whole ‘god’ shtick, huh?"

The world around Artham spun, his mind struggling to keep up with the sudden, jarring change in tone. Everything he thought he’d been dealing with—everything he believed—was unraveling before his eyes.

He was left standing in the silence, the weight of his decision still hanging over him, but now it felt hollow—empty. What had he just agreed to?

The last laugh echoed through the void as the realization dawned on him: whatever game he’d just entered, he wasn’t in control. Not by a long shot.

“Ah… huff, I apologize for the confusion,” the voice said with an air of amusement. “Everything I told you earlier is true, except for the part about your soul. There’s no need for such a dramatic price—someone like me doesn’t require that from you. Simply following my instructions will suffice. After all, why should the creation pay a price to its creator, right? Oh, and feel free to drop the formalities. The roleplay is officially over.”

“Roleplay?” Artham’s eyes narrowed, his mind struggling to keep up. “All of this was… a roleplay? You’re telling me you made this up?”

“Yes, but only the dialogue,” the voice replied, nonchalant. “Everything your eyes have witnessed? All of that is very real. IN OTHER WORDS, MY POWER IS TRUE, AND I AM A GOD!” The voice thundered with sudden authority, the echo of those words resonating like a force of nature. Then, just as quickly, it shifted to a more playful tone, light and carefree. “But of course, how you view me—what kind of god I am—is entirely up to you. Oh, and your expression just now? Priceless. I didn’t expect someone like you to be so easily deceived. But don’t worry,” the voice added, almost laughing, “I really can send you to another world.”

Artham blinked, caught between disbelief and a strange fascination. He didn’t know what to think. Anger? Amusement? Awe? None of those emotions felt right in the moment, and yet they all swirled inside him. Should he trust this voice? Doubt it? Dismiss it? He couldn’t tell what kind of god this entity was—or even if it was a god at all. And yet, the idea of a different world... of a new life... loomed before him.

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

One thing was for certain: he was in for a surprise.

“W-whoa… I never expected a god—assuming you are one—to talk like this.” He forced a chuckle, trying to mask his confusion with humor. “Do you even have a name? You can’t expect me to keep calling you ‘God’ after that little stunt you pulled. I mean, no offense, but you kind of shattered the whole ‘almighty deity’ image for me just now.”

The voice chuckled in return, its tone still playful but carrying an underlying weight. “Well, you can call me Sinahtra.”

Artham tilted his head, intrigued but still uncertain. “Sinahtra, huh? And… can you show yourself? I’d prefer talking face-to-face instead of having a disembodied voice in my head.”

“Hmm… suit yourself,” Sinahtra responded, sounding amused.

Suddenly, a radiant light filled the space around Artham. It wasn’t blinding, but more like a soft glow that grew brighter and more focused. Before his eyes, the light coalesced into a humanoid figure—a cosmic entity, its body shimmering with swirling galaxies, stars, and nebulae. Its face, abstract yet expressive, bore eyes that gleamed like distant suns, and its mouth curved into a crescent-shaped smile.

“Better?” Sinahtra asked, the cosmic figure towering over Artham, its very presence exuding both power and mystery.

Artham’s breath caught in his throat. “Well… that’s definitely more god-like.” He stared, captivated by the cosmic body that seemed to embody the entire universe. He reached out, instinctively wanting to touch the stars within the figure, but his hand passed through, meeting nothing but cold, empty space. “You’re… like a hologram,” he muttered, his mind still racing.

Sinahtra chuckled softly. “Not exactly. But I’m glad to see you’re getting comfortable. Now, let’s talk about your journey to another world. You’ve seen what I’m capable of. It’s time to make a decision.”

Artham felt a rush of excitement bubbling beneath his confusion. “So, what happens next? What’s this other world like?”

Sinahtra’s gaze seemed to twinkle, its starry eyes locking onto Artham’s. “You will have the opportunity to choose the genre of the world you wish to explore. Fantasy, science fiction, or even something more… unique. And, of course, the difficulty level. You can choose [Easy], [Medium], [Hard], or…” The figure paused dramatically, “…[Special]. But, the ‘special’ difficulty is only available after you complete two other worlds.”

Artham couldn’t help but grin. The thought of venturing into different worlds, picking his own genre and difficulty, felt surreal—like something straight out of a game or novel. But the mention of special difficulty piqued his interest. “And what if I… die? In one of these worlds?”

Sinahtra leaned forward, the stars in its body pulsing gently. “Ah, good question. If you die on hard difficulty, you’ll be reborn on medium. If you die on medium, you go down to easy. But if you die on easy… well, let’s just say you’ll be stuck there, endlessly repeating the same life until you figure your way out. And no rewards.”

Artham’s excitement faltered slightly. “Trapped? That sounds… intense.” He hesitated for a moment but quickly shook off the worry. This was what he wanted—a challenge, an escape from the monotony of his old life.

“Fine,” he said, his voice firm. “I’m ready. Let’s do this.”

Sinahtra’s cosmic form shimmered brighter, the stars swirling faster within its body. “Then choose your genre and difficulty.”

Artham’s pulse quickened. “I choose Fantasy and… hard difficulty.”

Excitement and annoyance clashed within him, Sinahtra’s playful trickery grating on his nerves. But the thrill of what lay ahead—a whole new world, a chance at something extraordinary—drove him forward. What kind of fantasy world would it be? What role would he play? Would it all be worth the risk?

Sinahtra’s cosmic form seemed to flicker with amusement. “Are you certain? This is not a game,” it warned, its voice taking on a deeper tone, one that seemed to reverberate in Artham’s very bones. “This is a story. One that will test your limits and shape your destiny. And remember, once you choose a difficulty, it can only be changed by death.”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it,” Artham scoffed, brushing off the weight of Sinahtra’s words. “I’ve read enough fantasy novels and comics to know what I’m getting into— Wait, what do you mean by ‘story’—?!”

But before he could finish, Sinahtra flicked its wrist, and the world around Artham shifted violently. Without warning, he was flung backward, the cosmic figure growing smaller and smaller as he was hurled through the vastness of the unknown. Wind roared in his ears, his vision a blur of colors and light as the distance between him and the god-like being expanded with terrifying speed.

“Since you’re so eager, I’ll grant you a special gift,” Sinahtra’s voice reverberated, now echoing from all directions, distant yet overwhelming. “I call it [Plot Armor]. Use it wisely. Goodbye, and… have fun!”

The words barely had time to sink in as a swirling vortex snapped open behind Artham. The portal radiated chaos, a whirlpool of colors and energy that pulsed with an otherworldly force. It tugged at him like a relentless black hole, pulling him toward its core. Panic shot through his veins, his instinct screaming at him to resist, to hold on to something—anything.

“Wait!” he yelled, his voice laced with fear as he clawed at the air, trying to grasp the edges of the portal. His hands found nothing. The suction was too powerful, dragging him into its depths. The scent of ozone and sulfur filled his nostrils, stinging his senses.

“What do you mean by ‘story’? And ‘plot armor’? Are you playing with my life like some twisted author?” His voice wavered, desperation creeping into his words as he twisted in midair, trying to catch a glimpse of Sinahtra one last time.

But Sinahtra’s only response was a cruel, mocking grin—a grin that burned itself into Artham’s mind. It was the last thing he saw before the void swallowed him whole, the force of the vortex yanking him from his world and hurling him into the unknown. His words were lost to the rush of energy, drowned out as he tumbled through the swirling chaos. He felt weightless, disoriented, his body spinning uncontrollably in the blackness.

"Just you wait!” he screamed into the void, though his voice was barely a whisper now, choked by the overpowering force around him. His grip on reality slipped. “When we meet again, I’ll make you pay for this!"

But his threats were swallowed by the endless dark, unheard and unanswered. Then, without warning, everything stopped.

Silence.

Endless, suffocating silence.

Artham floated in the abyss, suspended in a vast sea of nothingness. Time ceased to exist—minutes, hours, days… they all blurred together. He could feel his thoughts unraveling, slipping away into the void as if he were losing pieces of himself. A cold wave of despair washed over him, settling deep in his chest. The emptiness threatened to consume him, a black hole of hopelessness gnawing at his mind.

Is this it? Is this the end? he wondered, fear gnawing at his insides.

Then, out of the darkness, a faint glimmer appeared. A pinprick of light, barely noticeable at first, but it grew. Slowly, steadily, it expanded, cutting through the suffocating void. Artham’s eyes locked onto it, his mind clinging to that single point of hope. As the glimmer grew, it began to take shape, shifting and expanding into something more tangible—a door.

A door glowing softly, its edges shimmering with liquid light. It called to him, a beacon in the abyss, beckoning him closer.

This is it. The door to the world he had chosen. His heart pounded in his chest, adrenaline surging through his veins. A strange mixture of fear and exhilaration flooded him as he drifted toward the door. Behind it lay the fantasy world he had asked for, the hard difficulty he had chosen. What awaited him on the other side? What dangers? What adventures? Nothing would be easy—he knew that. But the unknown beckoned, and his heart burned with anticipation.

He reached out, his hand trembling, fingertips brushing against the glowing surface of the door. The moment his skin touched it, a jolt of energy shot through him, sharp and electric, sending a thrill up his spine. His breath caught in his throat as the door responded to his touch, its light pulsing and rippling like water.

Without hesitation, Artham pushed the door open.

Blinding light flooded his vision, overwhelming and all-consuming. His body dissolved into the bright expanse, the sensation both terrifying and liberating. He felt himself crossing over, leaving behind everything he had known. The last fragments of his old world, of his old life, slipped away into the void, lost forever.

And as the light enveloped him, as the door to the unknown swung wide open, Artham smiled—a strange, defiant smile.

I’m ready.

And then…

He crossed over.