I tilted my head, still processing Noah's words. "Sin world... like a world ruled by creatures?"
He let out a deep, rumbling laugh that echoed softly in the sterile healing chamber, his blind eyes crinkling at the corners as if he could see my confusion perfectly. "No, no, Divine. The world isn't ruled by the creatures. It's ruled by a fallen angel."
A fallen angel? The words hung in the air like a shadow, chilling despite the warm glow of the healing lights around us. I blinked, my mind racing back to old stories from my previous life—Bible tales, myths about Lucifer, angels cast down for rebellion. But here? In this place? "Like... a real angel?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper, curiosity overriding the fear creeping up my spine.
Noah's smile widened, but there was something knowing in it, almost pitying. "Seems like you know nothing at all about this world. Were you born yesterday?" He chuckled again, the sound lighter this time, but it made me feel small, exposed. "That question was really funny."
I didn't reply. I just forced a funny smile, the kind that hides embarrassment, my cheeks burning. Inside, though, questions swirled like storm clouds. Fallen angels? Corrupt sins? This wasn't the isekai fantasy I'd binge-read in webtoons or manga, with overpowered heroes and clear power systems. This felt... wrong. Darker.
Trying to shift the awkwardness, I glanced at his face. "Are your eyes okay?"
"Yeah," he said casually, as if it was nothing. "Wasn't today I lost my sight. Since childbirth—during an attack by the corrupt sins. Lost my parents too."
Damn. The weight of his words hit me like a punch to the gut. This guy had gone through hell, literally blinded by whatever these "corrupt sins" were, orphaned in a world ruled by a fallen angel. And he was sitting here, laughing, helping a stranger like me. I felt a pang of guilt for my own whining thoughts. This world didn't care about your backstory; it just chewed you up.
Before I could say anything more, a soft voice called from across the room. "Noah? You're next for full healing."
He stood up slowly, his bandaged body moving with surprising grace despite the injuries. Turning toward me—somehow facing me directly even without sight—he smiled one last time. "I hope we meet again, Divine."
With that, he walked away, guided by the healer's gentle hand. I watched him go, a strange ache in my chest. Once healed, they'd transport him with a carriage . I, on the other hand, had to wait. This world's system was weird, bureaucratic even in the face of horrors. Priorities: heal the body, then ship you back to whatever nightmare awaited.
I sank deeper into thought, staring at the floor. I needed to know more. The power system, the rules, the threats. This wasn't a fun fantasy world with levels and skills. This felt like a horror nightmare, where beauty hid unspeakable terrors. Corrupt sins attacking newborns? Fallen angels ruling from the shadows? What kind of god—or whatever Gabriel was—would dump me here?
Suddenly, a presence loomed in front of me. I looked up, and my breath caught. Standing there was a woman who could only be described as a goddess—tall, ethereal, with skin like polished obsidian glowing under the chamber lights, her white healer's robes flowing like mist. Her eyes were deep pools of ancient wisdom, and her smile was warm, yet... something about it felt off, too perfect, like a mask hiding depths I couldn't fathom.
"Are you Divine?" she asked, her voice melodic, almost singing.
I hesitated, staring into those eyes longer than I should have. They pulled at me, mysterious, drawing me in like a void. "Y-yeah," I responded slowly, snapping out of it. "I'm Divine."
"You're next," she said, her smile widening just a fraction.
I followed her to the healing circle, where a group of female healers—all in pristine white robes like a celestial choir—waited. They arranged themselves around me as I sat. One knelt before my injured leg, her hands gentle as she touched it. Then, she began to sing.
The melody was beautiful, haunting, rising and falling like waves on an ancient sea. But the language... it wasn't English, wasn't anything I recognized from my old world. It felt like Hebrew—deep, resonant syllables that vibrated through my bones, carrying power that prickled my skin.
As she sang, warmth spread from her touch. I watched in awe as my mangled leg began to regenerate—flesh knitting together, bones realigning with soft, unnatural cracks. Skin smoothed over, perfect and unscarred. It was a miracle. In my previous life, I'd heard stories of miracles and wonders, but I'd never believed. Atheist through and through. But this... this was the power of a God. Real, tangible divine intervention.
Overwhelmed, I bowed low, pressing my forehead to the ground. "Thank you... thank you so much," I stammered, voice thick with emotion.
The healers laughed softly, a chorus of amusement. "Divine, you're really weird today," the lead one said, her eyes twinkling. "Though you were lucky this time. You didn't lose your arm like last time."
I froze, lifting my head. "Wait... I've been here before?"
They exchanged glances, a flicker of something—concern? Pity?—crossing their faces. "Yeah," another said gently. "Almost every time. You're always insisting on killing your first corrupt sin alone. But it always ends in failure."
The words landed like a curse. Harsh, unrelenting. I was one of those weak MCs from the stories—the perpetual loser, mocked by the world, dying and restarting in an endless loop of humiliation. My life here was terrible. The weakest hunter, fodder for the sins. Was this punishment? For sins in my past life? Karma from whatever lazy, unbelieving existence I'd led before?
I stood up slowly, my newly healed leg feeling foreign, too perfect. Without another word,I was guided toward the waiting transport, a long, silent carriage suspended just above the ground by rings of pale light etched with scripture. It didn't hum or roar. It prayed. Low, constant, like a choir trapped inside stone.
Outside, robed officials moved with mechanical precision, their eyes glowing faintly as sigils hovered before them.
"Name. Age. Affiliation. Status," one commanded without looking up.
"Divine," I answered after a pause. "Sixteen."
The word sixteen hit harder than any blade. I wasn't even grown. Reincarnated into hell as a child.
A mark flared above my wrist. Approved. Processed.
No questions. No comfort.
I stepped into the carriage and took a seat beside a man whose presence felt like a storm barely contained. His jaw was clenched, his eyes hollowed by rage and faith in equal measure. Whatever he'd seen today had carved itself into his bones.
The gates opened.
Light pulled us upward, not flight but ascension, and the city revealed itself beneath us.
This was no steel-and-glass future.
It was a consecrated world.
Below stretched a vast land shaped by old earth and new judgment. Endless green plains rolled outward, alive and untouched, interrupted by towering sanctified cities that rose like divine verdicts. Structures spiraled upward like ancient baobab trees turned to marble and gold, their surfaces engraved with sacred patterns that glowed softly in the dusk. Massive cathedrals were fused into the city itself, their spires piercing the sky, their bells ringing without hands.
Light flowed through channels carved into streets, not electricity but blessing. Gardens climbed walls and bridges, overflowing with life that felt watched, measured, approved.
This was Africa reborn not through technology, but through divine authority.
We descended toward a great sanctum hub where dozens of other transports arrived in silence. Warriors disembarked in orderly lines. Some wore radiant armor marked with verses. Others bore weapons that shimmered like condensed prayer. Their faces were calm. Certain. Chosen.
Then there were the rest of us.
The broken. The confused. The newly claimed.
As I stepped onto the platform, reality hit harder than death ever did.
No home.
No family.
No one waiting.
Where did people like me go in a world this perfect?
The sanctified beauty mocked me. Parks whispered hymns. Towers loomed like judges. Every stone seemed to ask the same question:
Do you belong here?
Damn you, Gabriel.
The curse burned in my chest as the sun dipped below the horizon. Night fell fast, and with it came unease. Somewhere beyond the light, the Corrupted stirred. Somewhere above, fallen watchers lingered. Somewhere within me, something answered when it shouldn't.
I was alone.
But I wasn't finished.
I would survive this world. Learn its lies. Break its systems.
Or die trying.
Again.