His lips parted as if he wanted to speak, but the words just didn't come. Displaying his utter sincerity, the enigmatic man bowed deeply, causing the glowing white halo that hovered above his rich golden hair to dip down in sync. And those wings. Two magnificent arms of light that unfurled from his upper back.

  Oh, and by the way, the man bowing right now is named Michael. Or at least, that was the name given by him.

  Akuma, a teenage boy who'd just had his life unfortunately cut short, blinked rapidly as his mind struggled to process what stood before him. Akuma was convinced he must be dreaming. Or worse, hallucinating.

  “Wait, hold on…” Akuma finally spoke out, his voice hoarse and shaky as he ran trembling fingers through his hair. “Did I... die?”

  Michael sighed, folding his large and bright wings back as he straightened up. His expression then softened with practiced compassion.

  “You did. Tragically so, I might add. But your death wasn't in vain. You managed to save a life.”

  “A cat… I saved… a cat.”

  “Yes, you did. Some would call it foolish, but it was a noble act… nonethe…less.”

  Michael's composed fa?ade began to crack as his shoulders trembled. He'd tried his hardest, but he could no longer contain it. The barrier he put up to contain his laughter had finally shattered.

  “Oh, my goodness. No matter how many times I see it, it gets me every time.”

  A vein bulged on Akuma's brow. This would make the second angel Akuma found insufferable. Though Michael was slightly easier to deal with than that pesky apparition. At least he talked.

  Akuma chose to ignore Michael, glancing around at the mythical-like realm. It was like he was sandwiched between two glass walls stretching out to infinity.

  “Where am I anyways? Is this supposed to be Heaven?”

  “Not quite…” Michael replied, regaining his composure. “This is more of a... transitional space. Like a crossroad between worlds. It's where humans who've died decide where they'll end up.”

  Akuma frowned, crossing his arms skeptically over his chest.

  “Decide where we'll end up…?”

  Snap!

  In the next moment, Akuma's feet began to shake. Actually, it was the realm itself that was shaking, vibrating beneath him with increasing intensity.

  The ground to his left foot collapsed and was replaced by a dark hole that seemed to have an infinite depth, radiating a chill that bit into his skin. To his right, a single wooden door materialized. Though it immediately sparked his phobia of wooden structures. A phobia he had for as long as he could remember.

  “Those who choose to go through the door will reincarnate into another life. But-”

  “Reincarnate?!” Akuma eagerly interrupted, his eyes widening as he took a half-step toward the door. “You mean like, I get to do it all over?! With an opportunity like that, I could fix my mistakes… I can finally live an ordinary, peaceful life.”

  “No you can't.”

  His remark was so sudden that Akuma barely had the chance to process it. He blinked, recoiling slightly as questioned, “Huh?”

  Michael chuckled faintly, his playful expression returning.

  “I said, you didn't let me finish. I was going to tell you that unfortunately, you won't be able to keep your memories. I also can't guarantee your next life will be any better than your last. I can't even guarantee you won't end up on earth again. And no. You won't get any new, mystical, cool powers.”

  An awkward silence filled the room as Akuma processed what he’d just heard. After which, a disappointed sigh escaped him.

  “Y'know, that's kinda… what's the word? …Dog shit? Yeah, it sucks major ass.”

  “I am deeply sorry about that.” Michael responded, though his tone carried more amusement than sympathy.

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  Akuma glanced down the hole to his left, gulping as he tried to find its end. The darkness seemed to pulse, almost as if it were breathing.

  “W-What about this hole?” He asked, his voice cracking as he instinctively took a step to the right. “What does that get me?”

  Michael answered, showing a bright, albeit fake smile.

  “Absolutely nothing… Stories that are discarded from the world, souls that are lost, and even abandoned objects are sent there. It is the end of all destinies. The very concept of nothing.”

  There was a certain vibe to Michael that ate away at the air in Akuma's lungs, making each breath feel strained. Actually, it wasn't Michael's ominous tone that sent that shiver down his spine, trembling his hands even now. It was the void. To be exact, the idea of being forgotten and alone. And yet, it was calling out to him. As if such a fate was the only thing he deserved after all his failures. The same failures that had made him so desperate for a peaceful, ordinary second chance.

  “So, what will it be, Akuma?”

  He was left pondering to himself, weighing the pros and cons for each option. Except, no matter how hard he thought, he just couldn't decide. Neither option felt right.

  “Here's the thing, Michael or whatever your name was, both options suck major ass. No way in hell I'm risking the chance of being born as a turtle. Especially when that damn apparition might just come back for me… But I ain't about to jump in some nothing hole either. Sorry pal, but if there isn't a third option then I'll kindly sit my ass right here and wait for you to make one.”

  A heavy silence fell upon them, broken by feint chuckles, as well as Michael's futuristic armor clinking against his body as he laughed.

  “What's so funny?”

  Michael's wings flared slightly, illuminating the space around. Then his tone turned more serious.

  “I thought you would say that. Which is why I’m here to tell you that your death is not the end. It's merely the beginning. Inside you, there is a power far greater than you could ever understand… The nine realms need you, Akuma. Which is why I've come to offer you another option.”

  Akuma stared at Michael, his disbelief evident as he took an instinctive step back.

  “Realms? Like plural? You're losing me here, buddy. And once you lose me, you ain’t getting me back.”

  Michael took a step closer, his presence radiating an almost overwhelming sense of authority and calm. The air around him seemed to vibrate with power that made Akuma's skin prickle.

  “The time has come, Akuma. To remember who you truly are and embrace your purpose.”

  It was then that a sudden memory flashed through his mind. Two memories to be exact.

  The first was him handing a glowing book to an old sage, the pages emitting a light that seemed to bend reality itself.

  The second was the birth of a newborn baby, its tiny hands reaching upward as if grasping for the stars. The strangest part was that those memories didn't belong to him. At least, not to his recollection. And yet, they resonated with him. So much so that he tightly clenched his chest as he shed a single silent tear.

  “What the hell? Am I crying?”

  But as he wiped the tear with the back of his hand, a sharp, agonizing pain shot through his head. It started as a pinprick behind his eyes, then expanded outward like cracks in glass, splintering through his skull.

  "Aagggh!" He gasped, doubling over.

  His vision blurred, the edges darkening as more memories flashed in his mind. Whispers of conversations he'd never had, glimpses of places he'd never been, emotions he'd never felt yet somehow recognized.

  The weight of royal robes across his shoulders. The cheering of tens of thousands of people below him. And the scent of long deserved satisfaction that tickled his nose with nostalgic familiarity.

  Then another flash. He was surrounded by a cradle, his newborn's tiny hands reaching upward, grasping at the light that danced just beyond its reach. Then, a voice called out—clear and achingly familiar, though he couldn't quite place it. The voice was gentle almost affectionate.

  "Hakari."

  That wasn’t his name. And yet, hearing it felt like recognizing a piece of himself he hadn't known was missing. In the vision, he turned toward the voice and saw only an outstretched finger reaching for him. But before his tiny hands could reach theirs, the hand dissolved into darkness.

  "Hakari... only you can save us. Because you are the AntiGod."

  The vision collapsed, and Akuma found himself collapsed to his knees in the transitional space, his body trembling with aftershocks of memory. Cold sweat plastered his hair to his forehead as his mind struggled to integrate what he'd just experienced.

  "What... the hell did you do to me?!" He snarled through clenched teeth, glaring up at Michael with eyes that momentarily flashed with a primal rage.

  Michael took a knee, placing a reassuring hand on Akuma's head. His touch soothed the burning pain that still throbbed beneath Akuma's skull.

  “Nothing. Absolutely nothing… You know, it’s the strangest thing. No matter how many times I do it over, the seals always seem to weaken at this very moment, regardless of me doing anything. Whatever’s causing it, I only wish it was far more potent. Alas, I will simply bite my time until those seals finally break. Then and only then, shall I explain everything.”

  Snap!

  In the next moment, Akuma found himself back where this all started. The transitional space, as well as the mysterious angel known as Michael, had already faded from his memory like a half-forgotten dream. Though, this was not the first time it did. And it surely wouldn’t be the last.

  As for Michael, he regained his footing, immediately dropping his fake smile. Then, an old man with striking blue hair and a gentle smile appeared behind him, his robes dragging against the floor as he approached.

  “Ah, good timing, Finral…” Michael greeted, turning to face him. “Tell me, was my smile believable?”

  “You were slipping a bit at the end there, but I don't think he noticed. So, I guess I'd say it was.”

  Michael began rubbing the sides of his cheeks, molding them as if his face were made of clay.

  “Excellent. I put a lot of practice into this smile. Especially after our last meeting.”

  A bead of sweat dripped down Finral's forehead, his body reacting to the ominous presence Michael was producing.

  “I-I'm kind of curious… The void and reincarnation. Why is it that you always show him those two options? Wouldn’t it be more efficient to simply just revive him?”

  “Well, Finral. I guess… a part of me is hoping that he'll pick one. So that I won’t have to see him suffer anymore.”

  Michael's eyes grew distant, almost wistful.

  “Except he never does… Why do you think that is?”

  “Destiny of course. After all, no one can go against that.” Finral replied with the certainty of one who had witnessed the irrefutable truth of the word.

  Michael chuckled, the sound devoid of any genuine weight.

  “One hundred points. You are absolutely correct… Speaking of destiny. Shouldn't you be preparing yourself to face Solomon and his Asuras? Before they destroy the world and capture our beloved AntiGod?”