0-0 Prologue

  (??? POV)

  “Where… am I?”

  The words slipped from my lips, barely audible, as I took in the surreal world around me.

  Above me stretched an endless sky, vast and unbroken, while beneath my feet lay a boundless ocean, its surface smooth and still as glass. Yet, somehow, I didn’t sink. The water supported me like solid ground, defying all logic. It was like standing on top of a mirror.

  “How did I get here?” I murmured, my voice lost in the infinite silence of this strange expanse.

  I took a cautious step forward. The moment my foot touched the surface, gentle ripples radiated outward, fracturing the water’s perfect mirror-like reflection. Each step broke the silence with soft waves, distorting the world beneath my feet.

  “What a strange dream,” I mused, rubbing my chin as I continued to walk.

  The strangeness deepened as I surveyed my surroundings. There was no life—no fish darting below the surface, no birds soaring above, no distant sound to anchor this place to reality.

  “Is this purgatory?” I chuckled darkly, shoving my hands into my pockets. “My punishment for all the lives I’ve taken?”

  A laugh escaped my lips, tinged with resignation. I was no saint, far from it—a mobster by trade and a dirty one at that. Perhaps this was justice. Endless wandering on an endless sea, a lifetime to reflect on every sin.

  “Wonder how far I have to walk before something happens,” I muttered, glancing at the horizon.

  And then, almost as if it was scripted, a voice broke the silence from behind me.

  "Hello, Lost Soul."

  Caught off guard, I turned to the voice in a panic to find a woman standing there,

  A strange figure with long long, wavy blue hair tumbling over her shoulders like a cascading waterfall. She wore flowing white drapes, lined with intricate gold patterns that shimmered faintly. Everything about her radiated an aura of holiness—otherworldly, serene, yet intimidating.

  "Uhh, H-Hi?" I was caught off-guard and my voice wavered, carrying an awkward undertone, I waited a second, but she didn’t move, almost as if she couldn’t.

  “Can I help you?” I asked, breaking the silence.

  A chuckle escaped her, finding amusement in my hesitant introduction. "Do you know where you are?" she inquired, her demeanor tinged with a hint of sympathy.

  "In a dream?” I said tilting my head wondering if I was correct or not.

  She shook her head, her movements slow and deliberate. “Do you remember who you are?”

  I hesitated, caught off guard by the question. “Me? I’m Adam Vagner,” I replied, feigning nonchalance. “I, uh… I do odd jobs. All kinds of work.”

  “Adam,” she said, her voice laced with a strange compassion, “what is the last thing you remember?”

  I paused, memories resurfacing. "I... no, wait… I was on a mission…"

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  The memories came flooding back, vivid and bitter. My family wasn’t known for its virtues. We were mobsters, movers in the shadows, dealing in power, crime, and betrayal. That world had its price, and I’d always known it.

  I let out a humorless laugh. “I’m dead, aren’t I?” I said flatly, more a statement than a question.

  My partner had betrayed me, shooting me in the back of the head. It wasn't entirely unexpected, but the audacity of doing it in front of cameras caught me off guard… Or maybe he had already overtaken that building to begin with and was successful in assassinating me.

  “I’m sorry—” she began, her voice dripping with sympathy.

  “Don’t be,” I cut her off sharply. “I wasn’t exactly a saint, and honestly?I had long since accepted that I’ll die one day. So, where am I? Limbo? Are you here to decide if I’m hell material?” I asked, my tone casual, as if debating my eternal fate was just another item on a to-do list.

  “N-No,” she stammered, clearly taken aback by my nonchalance. “That’s not what I mean. I’m here to offer you… a chance.”

  “A chance? A chance in what?” I raised an eyebrow.

  “Ahem,” She cleared her throat, “I’ve seen you soul, and while it is bad, It’s also good.”

  I tilted my head in confusion, “What do you mean by you’ve seen my soul? Aren’t I a soul right now?”

  “Yes,” she replied evenly. “But I’ve seen it stripped bare. Your essence hangs in a delicate balance—equal parts good and bad.”

  “Wait, hold on a second.” I took a step back, instinctively crossing my arms over my chest like someone caught in a compromising situation. “What do you mean by ‘stripped bare’? Have you seen every inch of me?”

  For a brief moment, an expression of annoyance flickered before being replaced with elegance, and right then, I sensed something was amiss.

  Years of navigating the underworld had taught me the power of tone and gesture, how a single comment could unsettle someone more than a weapon. Words could be sharper than knives, and mischief, when used right, could be a tool as potent as any in my arsenal.

  "I'm a god, little one. And I'm willing to give you a chance at redemption."

  A god? The thought flickered through my mind, laced with irritation. Gods were supposed to be grand, omnipotent, and awe-inspiring. She didn’t feel like any of that.

  I placed a hand on my hip, narrowing my eyes. “What do you mean by that?” I asked, my tone edged with skepticism.

  “I’m offering you a chance,” she explained, her voice calm, almost rehearsed. “I’ll send you to another world where you can work toward your redemption. This way, when your life ends again, I’ll know for sure whether to send you to heaven or hell.”

  Is she telling me that she's going to isekai-ing me, like in those stories I used to read.

  But the way she phrased it—‘I’ll know for sure’? Doesn’t a god already know? The doubts piled up like a stack of cards.

  “You seem confused,” she said, mistaking my silence. “But you don’t have to worry. I’ll ensure that you don’t suffer in this new world. In fact, I’ll guarantee that you’ll enjoy yourself.”

  Enjoy myself? I almost laughed. Why was she asking for my permission anyway? A god doesn’t ask. A god acts. Every word out of her mouth made her sound less divine and more like a cheap con artist.

  Still, there was a way to test her. A simple method to confirm if she was telling the truth. The odds of it working? Slim—1% at best. But I had to try.

  "So, what do you say?"

  “Do I even have a choice?” I replied, dripping with sarcasm.

  “I wouldn’t proceed unless your soul fully accepted the transmigration,” she said earnestly, as if I were supposed to take comfort in that.

  I nodded slowly, feigning thoughtfulness, but in reality, my mind was already working overtime. A plan was forming, a way to test whether this so-called “god” was the real deal.

  “Before I answer,” I said, with a plan finally in my mind.

  Tilting my head slightly, “Can you tell me who that guy behind you is? He’s been staring at us for the past two minutes.”

  Her serene expression shattered like glass. Panic flashed across her face as she whipped around, her voice rising to a shriek. “MALACHITE! I TOLD YOU I HAD THIS!”

  I didn't know what or who she was screaming at, but my plan was in action and it had provided the perfect opportunity to test whether she was lying or not.

  In an instant, I closed the gap between us, she realized no one was behind her, only to turn back and witness me plunging my fist directly into her nose with all my power.

  She stumbled back, a spurt of crimson painting the air as she clutched her face. The sight made me pause, a smirk creeping across my lips.

  “Just as I thought,” I said, standing tall over her crumpled form. “Gods don’t bleed. You’re no god.”

  “You... You absolute fool!” she sputtered, her voice muffled by the hand cupping her injured nose. “Do you even realize what you’ve done?”

  “Oh, don’t wet your robes,” I shot back, shrugging nonchalantly. “What’re you gonna do? Kill me? Newsflash—I’m already dead.”

  That was the last thing I said and the last thing that I saw was her angry face before everything went black.