Chapter 1: From Trash to Treasure
As Terrchel slowly opened his eyes, he was met by an overwhelming expanse of pure, unblemished white. It stretched on, seemingly without end, dissolving into a profound nothingness that defied comprehension. The air around him felt strangely crisp and cool, a refreshing contrast to the oppressive void. A shiver traced its way down his spine, a primal response to a terrifying question that echoed in the vast emptiness of his mind: Where was he? More pressingly, who was he? His memories, usually a comforting anchor in the sea of existence, were shrouded in a thick, impenetrable fog. A cold wave of panic began to set in, his mind screaming a terrifying mantra: "You're dead, you're dead!". The realization choked him, sending him into a fit of hyperventilation, his fear and confusion spiraling.
He instinctively raised his hands, touching them to his face, a desperate, tactile search for familiarity. He yearned to see his own reflection, to grasp at some shred of identity that might penetrate the bizarre phenomenon he found himself trapped within.
Then, as if in response to his unspoken plea, a shimmering altar materialized before him. Upon its pristine surface rested a beautiful golden bowl, filled to the brim with a mysterious, pearly liquid. An unexplainable thirst, sharp and sudden, parched his mouth, sending his heart hammering against his ribs.
He began to drag his feet forward, compelled by an invisible force, an insistent whisper in his mind repeating, "Just one sip". Desperation propelled his every step towards the golden bowl. Enticed by the allure of the liquid, he wasted no time, scooping up hands full and gulping it down rapidly, despite a nagging, uncanny fear that gnawed at the edges of his consciousness. For some inexplicable reason, he was terrified he would drown in the pearly liquid at the slightest wrong move.
After quickly depleting most of the mysterious fluid, he wiped his mouth, a ragged gasp escaping his lips as he leaned over the altar, still dazed. It was then, in the shimmering reflection of the golden bowl, that he caught his first glimpse of himself. The sight caused him to jump back slightly, a sharp intake of breath. He was confronted by the image of a slender, yet undeniably toned young man. Piercing cerise eyes, an intense, vibrant hue, stared back at him from beneath unruly, dark green hair that seemed to defy any attempt at taming. A strange scar marred his face, an unsettling imperfection that drew his gaze. He slowly traced it with his fingertips, a soft scoff escaping his lips. "What is this?" he exclaimed, his mind reeling with confusion.
"What happened to me?" he whispered, the words heavy with disorientation. "Why don't I recognize my own face?". He ran a hand through his verdant hair, taking a moment to ponder the impossible situation. He inched forward, leaning his weight onto the altar, hovering once more over the golden bowl. His legs, surprisingly unsteady, craved the support; he felt like an infant, newly introduced to the precarious act of standing.
Driven by an inexplicable urge, Terrchel scooped up another handful of the pearly liquid. This time, he straightened his posture, rinsing his face with the cool, refreshing substance. The sensation was utterly new, a tingling rejuvenation that spread across his skin. He felt a flood of fragmented memories attempting to surface, jostling for recognition. But his thoughts were abruptly interrupted by a sudden, drastic drop in temperature. He scanned his surroundings, but nothing had changed; the endless expanse of white remained, a vast canvas of nothingness. Yet, the altar beneath his hands began to tremble violently, forcing him to stagger backward. He tumbled to the ground, feeling a profound inability to move. The pearly liquid, it seemed, was imbuing him with a newfound sense of awareness, actively recalling his lost memories. But everything felt bizarre, out of place, as if two realities were clashing within his mind.
His thoughts raced, battling to configure and process the chaotic influx of recollections and emotions. A vivid memory flashed: he was tiny, yet incredibly fast, buzzing through the confines of a human house, before landing on a forgotten table. Then, a looming shadow, a swift movement, and the crushing impact of a human hand, wielding a newspaper as a weapon, swatting him to his demise. Terrchel's eyes twitched, and another memory surged forth. This time, he was a human, strikingly similar to the reflection he had seen, though with subtle differences. He was in a dimly lit basement laboratory, meticulously extracting a luminous, celestial energy from a transfiguration box, intricately engraved with arcane details. This memory was accompanied by an overwhelming sensation of immense power, almost too much to bear. "Nothing makes sense at all!" he yelled aloud, the frustration boiling over. His voice, unexpectedly agitated, ripped through the silent expanse.
Suddenly, the endless white around him dissolved, giving way to an absolute, suffocating darkness. His knees buckled, and his head spun with disorienting dizziness. Within seconds, he collapsed with a loud thud, his head striking something that echoed with the gentle, rhythmic sound of dripping water.
Plop. Plop. Plop. The repetitive, hollow sound resonated through the air, a soothing, calming rhythm that lulled him into a meditative state of peace. His body felt weightless, as if floating in another universe entirely. The last thing he could recall was dying two distinct deaths: one as a human, and one as something else entirely. Beyond that, a blank void.
"There was definitely something about the man in my last memories that is relatively important to all this, but I can't figure it out," he thought, a new wave of frustration building. How was any of this possible? How could he have evolved overnight into a human, burdened with thoughts and feelings that felt utterly alien to him? The memories of his past life seemed inextricably intertwined with those of another.
His subconscious thoughts surged, presenting themselves at an accelerated speed as he processed the impossible reality. He distinctly remembered a previous existence where he knew nothing, operating purely on natural instinct. "I'm sure I didn't comprehend the reasoning behind doing or general existence in my past life," he mused, the realization both startling and profound. But this new sensation of processing, understanding, and simply knowing things was thrilling, sending his unconscious self into a frenzy. His mind, now sharp and demanding, concluded that he was in dire need of answers, and, perhaps more urgently, a clear apology from the entity that had ended his previous life.
He slowly regained consciousness to the gentle sound of water splashing nearby. As his eyes fluttered open, another deluge of memories flooded his mind, but this time, he was fully conscious, though immensely weak. The oppressive void of darkness still enveloped him. His body felt heavy, too difficult to hold upright, and his eyes were weary. Memories arose, fragments of what felt like a home and a family. A desperate yearning filled him: to know who he truly was, what was happening, and above all, to escape this perplexing place. Thoughts of a wife and a son, vivid and aching, consumed him. "Why wasn't my wife with me, where is she?". "What happened to my son, where is he now?". "And are they truly my family?". These feelings evoked a powerful, undeniable connection, yet he wasn't sure if he knew them personally.
Taking a moment to gather himself, he pressed a hand to his pounding forehead; all the intense thought had given him a splitting headache. He whispered to himself, "I must have passed out and now regained much more of my memories, but it feels like I have two stories living inside me". The two distinct sets of recollections blurred before him, a chaotic tapestry. He couldn't grasp the correlation, yet both felt intimately personal.
Suddenly, a blinding light erupted in the pervasive darkness. A thunderous voice, deep and resonant, boomed through the oppressive atmosphere, causing the hairs on Terrchel's neck to stand on end. "Terrchel, you have awoken from your slumber. Arise!". He sprang to his feet with lightning speed, his heart hammering against his ribs. He was not only startled by the powerful voice but also by the sheer, unexpected agility of his own body.
He turned, seeking the source of the booming voice. Before his eyes shone a figure of brilliant white, so intensely bright that he couldn't look at it directly. For the few seconds he attempted to gaze upon it, he felt as if his very being would explode into millions of dust particles, overwhelmed by the sheer, unbridled power emanating from the entity before him. Though he was bewildered, having been conscious for what felt like hours, he suppressed his sarcastic thoughts. Fear of the immense power held him in check. He immediately bowed his head, speaking softly in response, all agitation melting away, replaced by an profound terror.
"You referred to me as Terrchel; is that my identity?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper.
The Light responded, its voice resonating with ancient wisdom: "Yes, I've called you out the darkness to a new life, do you perceive this new thing?".
"Who are you that you have the power to upgrade my existence?" Terrchel inquired, still humbled by the presence.
"I am He and always will be, the beginning and the end," The Light declared.
Terrchel, confused and unsure how to respond, simply hovered in silence, his gaze fixed awkwardly on his own feet. It was then, in a moment of peculiar distraction, that he noticed something odd: one of his toes was noticeably longer than the other. He tilted his head in puzzlement, momentarily captivated by this unexpected anatomical detail.
The Light, with an almost imperceptible shift in its radiant presence, addressed him once more: "Child, listen carefully. You were a house fly in your past life. However, your spirit cried out to me as you hit the ground in a splat, and I heard your silent vow to be a better human than the one you witnessed that day. So I've given you another chance at life, but this time as a human, as your heart yearned."
Terrchel looked up from his foot, his head still cocked to the side. A burst of unexpected laughter escaped him. His eyes, it seemed, had finally adjusted to the intense brilliance of The Light, allowing him to gaze upon it without the threat of combustion, though a subtle burning sensation still lingered behind his retinas. Suddenly, an adorable Celestial creature with shimmering eyes popped out of the ethereal surface beneath them, landing squarely on Terrchel's head. Terrchel's eyes widened in shock, but his body, anticipating the sudden shift, remained perfectly still and balanced, poised effortlessly. He lifted his gaze to examine the charming creature perched upon his crown.
The creature, in a surprisingly cute, high-pitched voice, began to speak: "The memories that flood your mind are those of your past fly self and the vessel you now imbued with. You've been asleep in The Light Realm for the past years until now. The man's vessel you wield, his name was Arnold Maximus. He died the day you died a few years ago and he had a family, but he did not complete his job in the Arcadian realm, which is one of the realms we are investigating here in the Light Realm".
"Wait so this place is called The Light Realm and it's some kind of place where you control and monitor other realms and transfer souls and beings between? But that's impossible!" Terrchel blurted out, a hint of suppressed laughter in his voice, sensing this was a serious matter. He quickly stifled the urge to laugh, knowing he risked being "yeeted off the map of realms" that had abruptly materialized, shimmering behind The Light, if he didn't conduct himself with appropriate solemnity.
The Light, its radiant presence intensifying slightly, spoke with a tone that brooked no further levity: "When you're done taking your second chance as a joke, then Fluffysky may continue speaking". Terrchel's face fell, realizing The Light would tolerate no further subtle jokes or sarcastic remarks.