When we die, we go through all of our life's memories to find the answer. Why did we die?
.
.
.
Date—[14th April 2027]
Momo asked,
"Sarbayan, why are we here—any particular reason?"
Sarbayan shoved shaky hands into his pockets. "I have something to confess. Something deep."
Momo tilted her head with a cheeky smile.
"And what could that be, my friend?"
Sarbayan clutched his chest with all his strength, conjuring the confidence to speak. "My feelings for you—I...."
Momo's smile faded, her face twisting in exaggerated fury, words forced through gritted teeth.
"No, Just BECAUSE I AM AN ORPHAN DOESN'T MEAN I HAVE TO LOVE ANYONE WHO PITIES ME!"
Sarbayan's eyes stayed dry. Not a single facial muscle moved.
He knew something wasn't adding up.
He tried to stay silent—until his teeth clenched.
Then the world shifted—a loud thud from a vehicle. It ate all the feelings up like a void.
.
.
.
Date—[Unknown]
I rose from the bed, soaked in my own sweat, gasping for air in a tone that would make a dead man flinch.
"That nightmare—that repeating dream."
My hand moved, brushing a blob of pink slime nearby.
My heart slowed with each exhale as Pero cuddled my arm, sensing me from within—comforting me in his own language of blorps and wobbles, most of which I couldn't understand.
My lips curled up, their life sucked out.
Faintly, in a smoother tone:
"Life can change so fast—or maybe my heart moves slower than time. Wait, how did I get here again?"
.
.
.
Date—[15th May 2027]
I woke to blurry eyes glued to the monitor, tired from sleeping through the night—which was beyond science.
"Another day of pain,"
I muttered, starting to get dressed—upset roiling in my gut after brushing my teeth—while repeating the mantra, the only words I knew.
With fresh hope, I jumped down several stairs at once, landing without injury.
I glanced up at the white ceiling.
"Only if I were an isekai hero."
After skipping breakfast, I opened the door—and turned the barb on myself again.
"I am so irresponsible I can't be a hero."
The words hurt, but they rang true when I looked at myself: the same unwashed clothes for three days straight, no self-care in sight.
Even in Japan—the land of the world's most responsible race, who were very strict or so they said—this godforsaken village remained a kind one even with my absence of discipline.
After stepping out of my father's house on an empty stomach, fresh off bingeing isekai anime until 2 a.m., it felt like the right thing to say.
But as I stepped out of my father's house, irony struck—or was it retribution? Who knows. A man who'd driven all night to feed his family. His light kei truck hit me the moment I stepped onto the road.
The impact hit, but I felt no pain—my reflexes were too weak for that. Then, in a flash, all my memories and experiences surged at once.
But threaded through them was an unknown scene I'd never seen before:
My only other friend, clear as day, was standing in front of a convenience store. The next moment, he vanished.
...
I drifted in an unknown place, stripped of senses and feeling.
I could see nothing.
I could feel nothing.
I could not sense heat, nor gravity pulling me.
I spoke, resigned.
"So this is hell... or is it?"
A woman's voice echoed through the endless walls of emptiness—a melody piercing the unknown state I'd fallen into.
"Don't make me laugh. I have seen people worse than you making it to heaven.
But you will not go to heaven or the place you mentioned."
I asked, voice like a man adrift:
"Who are you? And what's this place? What do you mean by no heaven or hell?"
Just a laugh echoed throughout the emptiness. Then a voice:
"1st, don't join him. 2nd, listen to the abilities I picked for you like a good boy."
I turned toward her at last, glimpsing a light in the void. My gaze sharpened—not with devotion, but with untreated anger.
She spoke:
"First—mana, basic everyone gets it. Second, summoner skills at an S-rank level. You'll earn the perks when you mentally accept that what you gave you no regrets to keep you awake at night. Flaws can't tame organisms your species expects a perk maybe. Third—"
She paused, smirked in her glowing shallowest.
"A voice, Divine. Name it yourself. You'll figure it out."
After that, she raised her voice, still with the same charm.
"Take them and remember your mission is to kill the demon king."
I just screamed at the top of my lungs, with my soul rejecting the ideas.
"Are you a goddess? Why me and no—..."
.
.
.
I was thrown out of the emptiness. Into a white hole in which I felt reborn. My atoms were rearranged perfectly with more power. Into a place where time passed no—a world where I was given a responsibility.
My soul had accepted the gift it received without any extra force.
I finally smelled the scent of raw dirt. I could sense gravity pulling me. I could see the green foliage of the forest. I could hear the birds chirp peacefully.
I finally felt like I lived in that moment, spreading my arms not in a happy way but with authority.
But it did not last long.
Suddenly, I felt as if a new sense had awakened in me.
I felt a crow.
Not just a crow but darkness itself running from one host to another, using wind itself as a transport medium, tensing the atmosphere.
I saw an old crow's body fall down. Curiously,
I went near the fallen crow.
I saw empty bloodless sockets with no eyes, which would have easily grossed most people out.
But not me—I am not easily grossed out due to all the shows I have watched which have built a high tolerance. I looked at a branch with similar but less violent energy which I could feel piercing through my bones.
Was it out of fear or habit? I scratched the itching tattoo on my neck right under my ear. Though I was underage for a tattoo and wasn't cool with just 3 letters NSM, anyway.
The crow jumped to a lower branch of the next tree. Then to another tree—it didn't see me. I was sure about that.
I quietly walked from behind it. "What am I even doing chasing after a crow?" Pain split my skull so hard my vision blurred.
I fell to my knees, clenching my head, groaning in agony due to it happening to me for the 1st time.
Words chanted—foreign at first, then clear. 'Mission one, Tame the timeless bird.'
I spoke to myself.
"So this is the voice of, well she told me to name it myself. Voice of the world, no univers umm no."
Itching my tattoo again with one hand, I rose back on my legs.
"Yes 'Voice Of No One' is perfect."
I felt curious, not entirely forced just curious.
After the pain in my skull lightened slowly, I felt as if I had a true purpose, a meaning.
I tiptoed like a professional thief right behind the little tempest.
I reached my hand out forward toward my destiny.
.
.
.
End—Of—Chapter—1