Prologue

  Tunk.

  Ugh... Tunk.

  What is that loud noise?

  Tunk.

  Why does my head hurt so damn much?

  Tunk.

  Why does it taste like a cat shi in my mouth?

  TUNK.

  What the hell is that noise?

  TUNK!

  Yeah, that damn noise!

  Tunk.

  It seemed to quiet down a bit—or maybe that was just my imagination. It was still loud as hell.

  "So, you are finally awake, I see."

  The voice that greeted me sounded like sandpaper scraping against my eardrums.

  What kind of voice is that? I thought to myself.

  God, I hope I didn’t sleep with someone whose voice sounds like a cat scratching the bottom of a litter box—right after that same cat shit in my mouth.

  First my mouth, now my ears... What’s next? The smell? Just my luck.

  I was almost afraid to open my eyes, but I did.

  I wish I hadn’t.

  The first thing I saw was an old foot in a sandal.

  And no, before you ask, the guy wasn’t wearing socks. Which is weird, because obviously, socks go with sandals. How else do you keep your feet warm?

  What? It’s not like I wear a fanny pack, too. I save that for gaming conventions where fellow dorks of my standing gather. Like Magic.

  Sorry, back to the foot at hand.

  Thick, yellow toenails jutted out from the sandals like claws.

  Maybe that was the source of the smell?

  I shook my head, trying to gather my thoughts.

  What the hell happened last night?

  I didn’t remember doing anything special. I went to bed at 9:00 p.m. like I always do.

  I work at an insurance company as a claims adjuster for auto accidents. I like getting up early to make breakfast, ironing my clothes, and reading the paper while my eggs cook—starting the day like a responsible adult.

  I just turned thirty this year and figured I should do something more exciting with my life, but after seeing so many accidents every day, the safety of my gray cubicle and spreadsheets seemed reasonable.

  If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  The worst thing I ever faced was a paper cut—and we all know how enjoyable those are.

  Then, I noticed the black robe.

  Old. Very old.

  So old that the black looked like it had sat in the sun too long—faded and washed out.

  My eyes slowly traveled upward, dreading what they might find.

  A face.

  A wrinkled, ancient face framed by long, white hair.

  The man looked frail—weak.

  I bet a solid gust of wind could knock him over.

  I finally looked around.

  I was on a boat.

  The old man was rowing it.

  He spoke again.

  “Do you have the fee for the ride on my boat?”

  His raspy voice scraped against my eardrums again, making me wince.

  A fee?

  Wait a second.

  A boat. A ferryman.

  Shit.

  “If this is what I think it is…” I muttered, glancing over the side. The water was dark, impossibly still, and an eerie fog surrounded everything.

  The Ferryman of legend.

  I was dead.

  The realization sent a cold shiver down my spine.

  “I can see that you don’t have a way to pay,” the old man continued, his voice rattling in my skull like loose bones. “But I have a trade or a deal to offer in exchange.”

  A deal?

  Well, if this is a dream, what can it hurt to hear him out?

  “Sure. Why not? What do you want for the fee?” I asked.

  The Ferryman’s hollow eyes locked onto mine.

  “You have a few choices.”

  He dipped the oar into the water again, causing ripples to spread across the surface.

  “The reason I pulled you from the River of Reincarnation was because I noticed you have a very special talent for spiritual cultivation. The issue is that you are in the material world, where such talent has no bearing.

  However, I can take you to the Spirit Realm to be reborn. In exchange, I will take your talent.”

  He let the words settle before continuing.

  “This gives you a chance to reach the Spirit Realm—a place you would never have been able to reach otherwise. And in return, I will grant you a new talent: the strongest talent for body cultivation. You will be reborn in the Spirit Realm, not as a spiritual cultivator, but as a body cultivator instead.”

  I frowned, considering his words.

  The body is the foundation for everything, right?

  If I’m going to be reborn in a new world, I might as well go all in.

  “What the hell. I agree to your trade.”

  I extended my right hand.

  The Ferryman grasped it before I could change my mind.

  “Deal accepted.”

  Pain.

  Unimaginable pain.

  It felt like something was being ripped from the very core of my soul.

  The world started spinning.

  I couldn’t take it.

  Everything went dark.

  The Ferryman continued extracting Michael’s talent from his now-lifeless body.

  Once the process was complete, he placed what looked like a shimmering star into the folds of his robe.

  Then, he reached inside and pulled out a sphere of golden metal, its surface shifting like liquid, flowing with strange, pulsing energy.

  Without hesitation, he pressed the golden orb into Michael’s chest.

  Michael’s unconscious body convulsed violently, his mouth opening in a silent scream. The thick fog around them dampened the sound, swallowing his agony.

  The boat reached the riverbank.

  Without ceremony, the Ferryman tossed Michael’s body into the fog.

  The fog swallowed him whole.

  The transformation began the moment Michael crossed into the unknown.

  His body shrank.

  No, not shrank—grew younger.

  His dirty blonde hair darkened to jet black.

  The belly he had developed from years of desk work melted away, revealing lean, toned muscle.

  If Michael had been awake, he would have been amazed at the changes.

  But then, something happened that even the Ferryman hadn’t foreseen.

  A force—something foreign—slammed into Michael’s chest like a hockey puck.

  Right where the Ferryman had placed the golden orb.

  The two energies clashed, silver sparks flying across the golden background of the orb.

  The metal sphere fought back against the intrusion, the two forces twisting, merging—becoming something new.

  When the light faded, what remained was no longer an orb, but a heart.

  A heart made of metal, etched with intricate circuitry, glowing faintly with an unknown power.

  A programmer from Earth might have recognized the symbols.

  Binary code.

  Michael’s body continued its descent through the fog.

  A body lay waiting below—one that looked exactly like his, down to the last detail.

  Except this body was lifeless.

  As Michael’s spirit merged with it, his form shimmered, glowing with an eerie black light. The circuitry that had formed on his heart now spread throughout his new body, pulsing, integrating.

  He took a breath.

  Steady. Calm.

  The night passed in silence.

  No one knew what had just happened.

  No one could have predicted the impact this reborn soul would have on the world.