I floated in the endless space, so quiet and peaceful, and then, suddenly, I felt like standing on top of a solid object, looking at a blank space. Then, suddenly, some kind of credits screen rolled in. The content was baffling.

[Total time alive: 29 years, 154 days (each one dragging like a Monday)]

[Amount of money gained: $112,500 (promptly donated to caffeine suppliers and student loans)]

[Amount of words spoken: 14,678,320 (98% directed at walls, ceilings, or yourself)]

[Number of patients saved: 1,421 (and one cactus you couldn’t bear to let go)]

[Hours of sleep lost: 18,200 (Despresso is your espresso)]

[Number of surgeries assisted: 412 (still waiting for my “10th one free” punch card)]

[Times questioned career choice: 1,026 (and that’s just today :D)]

[Energy drinks consumed: 2,731 (blood type: caffeine-positive)]

[Total Karma: S+ (somehow)]

Seeing your own life stats laid out like this… yeah, that pretty much sums it up. Like I just hit "Game Over" and the screen's throwing up my end-of-level report card.

[Choosing your type of heaven...]

[Heaven Selected: "Mercenary Duty’s: Infinite Respawn - Ultimate Multi-Realm FPS Edition"]

Even my afterlife felt like a cosmic joke. I mean, seriously—that’s what I get? I’ve logged enough hours in games to know a knockoff title when I see one. But here I was, apparently signed up for some eternal first-person shooter in the great beyond.

Goddamn, what even is this place?

Then, suddenly, a new screen popped up, listing my “stats.” Wait—what? So I’m actually getting reincarnated into a game world? Like, that’s really happening? Wait, I can’t change anything, What???

Name: [ERROR: Too Sleep-Deprived to Remember; Suggestion: Change Your Name]

Class: Guardian Healer (Because you’re always “healing” everyone else’s mess, anesthesia)

Race: Fallen Angel (Let’s face it, you’ve got the vibe)

Strength: 5 (Bench-presses negative emotions, but not much else)

Agility: 20 (Permanently Buffed by Caffeine, L-Carnitine, and Taurine)

Vitality: 50 (Either hibernates for five days or pulls five all-nighters—no in-between)

Aptitude: 15 (For magic and, apparently, summoning coffee and Red Bull out of thin air)

I stared at the screen, caught somewhere between disbelief and a weird, twisted sense of amusement. Should I be happy about this? I mean, I did clock in enough hours gaming to appreciate it. But on the other hand, it kind of felt like the universe’s final, cosmic prank.

Then, out of nowhere, I was face-to-face with… myself. Well, sort of. She was me, but without the ever-present eyebags, the crooked glasses, and the "I survived med school" level of exhaustion etched into every feature. She looked… stunning, actually. A version of me who’d apparently slept eight hours a night and didn’t live off caffeine. Not stopping there, she had white hair, red eyes, and a pair of demonic horns.

Then her appearance flickered again, and a settings panel popped up in front of me. Suddenly, I could adjust everything—skin tone, hairstyle, height, build… and, uh, yes, even breast size. And somehow, as if things couldn’t get weirder, there was an entire dropdown menu for my genitals.

I stared at the options, half in shock, half in amusement. Whoever designed this game really didn’t hold back, did they? Apparently, my afterlife had been handed to the same devs who made overly ambitious RPG character creators.

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

“Goddamn,” I muttered to myself, scrolling through options. “They’re really letting me go all out on this one?”

I skipped most of the options—honestly, I was already more than satisfied with this version of myself. It felt surreal, like staring at an idealized reflection, polished and perfected in every way. I didn’t need to mess with it; it was as good as it was.

All I did was tweak the hairstyle, swapping my usual short, unkempt look for a simple ponytail. Just enough to feel a bit like “me” but without the perpetual bedhead. Satisfied, I took a deep breath, staring at this strange, upgraded version of myself, wondering what I’d just signed up for in this bizarre afterlife.

Then, the menu shifted, and suddenly I was dressed head-to-toe in military gear, a rugged uniform that looked like it had seen its fair share of battle. In my hands, I gripped an assault rifle—the unmistakable silhouette of a G36. The “me” on the screen gave a casual wave, almost like a final farewell, before I felt a strange pull, and then—whoosh—I was inside her body.

It was surreal. I could feel my hands, strong and steady around the rifle, the weight of the gear pressing down on my shoulders, and the solid ground beneath my feet. I glanced down, flexing my fingers, and shifting my stance.

Not stopping there, I suddenly arrived at a shooting range, as abruptly as it sounded. My G36 was lying down on the table, alongside several magazines. I approached the table, then an overlay appeared on top of my head.

[Welcome, recruit. Now, you’ll learn the basics of weapon handling, class skills, and class perks]

“Ok?” I nodded, grabbing the assault rifle.

I slipped the magazine into the mag well with a practiced motion, like it was second nature. Then I pulled the charging handle back, feeling the solid, satisfying click as the rifle was readied. The strange part? My “experience” with handling guns was pretty much limited to VR games and the occasional YouTube tutorial binge.

[Please Hit The Targets]

Several targets popped up in front of me. Without a second thought, I flicked the safety to semi-auto and squeezed the trigger, each shot precise and controlled. I felt the weight of the trigger pull, the smooth recoil pressing back against my shoulder—oddly gentle like the rifle was custom-fitted just for me.

Despite never handling a real rifle before, it felt effortless, almost natural. The shots landed squarely on each target as if I’d spent years training for this. Every squeeze, every burst of recoil, was… satisfying, in a strange way.

And… why am I happy? I never felt this ecstatic before.

[Good job, recruit. Now, let’s see, what’s your name?]

I paused for a second, considering my options. "Ella" didn’t seem quite right here—it felt too connected to the person I used to be. But I wasn’t about to go with something ridiculous like XxxdickslicerxxX, either. No, I needed something simple, something that fit this strange new version of myself.

“Ain,” I thought. Just a single word, short and straightforward. It had a certain calm to it, a kind of quiet strength. Yeah, that felt right. I’d be Ain in this world.

[Welcome, Ain. Here are your skills and perks]

Skills: Healing Hands

Perks: First Aider

Healing Hands: By simply touching an ally, you can heal their injuries. But be careful—this power drains your Psionic Energy, and if you run out, it’ll start draining your own health instead. You can also use this skill on yourself.

First Aider: Your bandaging and first-aid skills are 50% faster than other classes, making you the go-to for quick battlefield patch-ups. Plus, you take 50% less damage while healing others—because even the healer needs some protection in the line of fire.

Great. Apparently, I was rolling with a support build in a shooter.

[Now, let’s try that skill, shall we?]

Out of nowhere, an injured guy stumbled into view. His body was riddled with gunshot wounds, holes in places that should have definitely shut down basic motor functions. Yet, somehow, he was still moving, limping forward as if unfazed, even managing to aim and shoot at the targets.

I blinked in disbelief. How the fuck is he even alive? With wounds like that, he should be face-down on the ground, not playing soldier in this freakish tutorial.

[Tap the person to engage the skill]

“Alright, here goes nothing…” I muttered, reaching out to tap his shoulder.

As I tapped his shoulder, a soft blue aura radiated from my hand, wrapping around him like a healing cocoon. So that’s the Psionic Energy, I thought, watching as the wounds on his body slowly knitted themselves shut. Above his head, a red health bar crept upward, filling bit by bit. This was… surreal. Almost too surreal. Healing someone with a touch? Watching their health bar refill in real time? Yeah, it’s definitely odd.

Before I could fully process it, a series of turrets popped out from the walls, unleashing a barrage of bullets straight at me. I braced myself, expecting blinding pain or, well, instant death. Instead, I felt… a pinch. Just a light sting as my own health bar in the bottom left corner started ticking down. I stared at the bullet wounds on my body, barely feeling them. This is supposed to be gunfire, I thought, baffled. Real bullets and it’s just a… pinch?

[Congratulations on taking your first bullet]

“I guess?” I shrugged.

[Now, you need to feel death]

Flick.

Without warning, everything went dark, like someone had just flipped a switch and turned off the lights. One second, I was standing there, alive, albeit with a few bullet holes; the next, it was pitch black, an unsettling silence wrapping around me.

I blinked, trying to make sense of it. So, this was what it felt like to die here? Just a switch to black? No pain, no drama, just… nothingness.