When Existence Was Erased
Death arrived without a sound.
There was no flash of light, no scream, no dramatic regret like those described in old stories. It simply… vanished. Like writing on sand washed away by the tide, his existence was erased completely.
In his first life, he was an ordinary human. He possessed no extraordinary talent, nor was he born with a remarkable lineage. From a young age, he lived alone—without parents, without family. To him, the world was cold, filled with unfair rules, and his own body was the greatest limitation he could never overcome.
He was thirsty for knowledge.
Not for power. Not for wealth. But for understanding.
He read everything he could find—philosophy, history, theories of existence, even ancient writings dismissed as nonsense by others. Yet all of it led to the same conclusion: the human body was too fragile, life too short, and understanding far too shallow.
And in the end, death came before he found his answer.
When his consciousness should have disappeared, the opposite happened.
He awakened.
But not as a human.
There was no body. No breath. No heartbeat. What remained was pure consciousness—clear, complete, and strangely… calm.
He drifted within emptiness.
Not darkness, because darkness could still be perceived. This place had no color, no direction, no boundary. It was as if space itself refused to be defined.
"Am I… still here?"
The thought arose, yet no voice followed. There was no mouth to speak.
His consciousness moved—or rather, intended to move—and the emptiness responded. Space trembled faintly, as though acknowledging his presence.
He fell silent.
In his former life, he once read an ancient theory:
> If consciousness is strong enough, it does not require a body.
At the time, he dismissed it as fantasy.
Now, he was living—no, existing—proof of it.
He began to observe this place.
There was no time.
He realized this not because time had stopped, but because the concept of time itself did not exist. There was no day or night, no beginning or end. Consciousness did not age. Thought did not tire.
He began to think.
If the body was a limitation, and he no longer possessed one, then the only thing he could rely on was knowledge and understanding.
He observed further.
Every "vibration" in the emptiness followed a pattern. Every change had a cause. He did not know how long he observed—since long and short had lost all meaning—but gradually, he realized something crucial.
This place was not empty.
It was full.
Filled with other existences.
Ancient consciousnesses drifted in the distance. Some were vague, some resembled colossal shadows, while others were nothing more than points of existence that caused the surrounding space to quake violently.
Strangely, everything was peaceful.
There was no hostility. No dominance.
Yet when two existences brushed against one another, violent tremors erupted—a clash without hatred. And when one "lost," its existence did not vanish. Instead, it dispersed into the emptiness, only to re-form once again.
Death… did not exist here.
He approached one of them.
Without warning, an overwhelming pressure crashed into his consciousness.
Shattered.
He did not even understand what happened before his consciousness was torn apart—yet in the next instant, he was whole again, returned to his original position.
He fell silent.
The first strike, he had partially endured.
The second… annihilated him instantly.
Not because he was weak, but because his understanding was too shallow.
"I understand now…"
In this place, power was not measured by energy or form, but by one's understanding of existence itself.
He began to learn.
He observed how other existences "moved." How they interacted with the emptiness. How intent transformed into reality.
He failed countless times.
But in a place without time, failure was not punishment.
He did not know how long he was immersed in this learning when—at some point—another consciousness noticed him.
That consciousness… was different.
Its presence caused the emptiness to tremble gently, as if space itself bowed. It did not attack. It did not approach. It merely observed.
Then, an intent flowed toward him.
> "Your understanding is shallow… but your direction is correct."
He was startled.
Not because the words appeared in his mind, but because for the first time since arriving here, he was acknowledged.
"I want to understand," he replied, not knowing how he managed to convey that intent.
The consciousness drew closer.
He felt an absolute difference. If he was a drop of water, then the existence before him was a boundless ocean.
> "In your original world, your body was a prison,"
"Here, ignorance is the prison."
A new understanding was implanted into his consciousness.
> "This place is called Empty Nirvana."
The name echoed—not as sound, but as truth.
> "I will teach you," the existence continued,
"not as a disciple… but as a child."
His consciousness trembled.
For the first time since he was born in his former world, he felt something resembling… warmth.
And within Empty Nirvana—
a journey without time began.