Chapter 0: God
As a kid, I always looked up to superheroes.
I had posters on my bedroom walls. Superman flying through clouds. Batman crouched on a rooftop. Spider-Man swinging between buildings. They were everything I wanted to be. Strong. Brave. Someone who could save people.
I spent hours reading comic books. Imagining myself with superpowers. Pretending I could fly or punch through walls. My mom would find me in the backyard, cape made from an old bedsheet, jumping off the swing set trying to soar.
"Be careful," she'd always say. "You're not actually Superman."
But in my head, I was. I was the hero who saved the day. The one who never lost. The one who always did the right thing.
Those were simpler times. When the biggest problem in my life was running out of comic books to read.
Twenty years later, I wasn't thinking about superheroes anymore.
I was twenty-eight. Had a decent job at an accounting firm. A small apartment downtown. A routine that kept me busy but not particularly happy.
The childhood dreams of being a hero had faded into adult reality. Bills to pay. Deadlines to meet. A life that felt ordinary in every possible way.
On the day of my death, it started as a normal evening. I was walking home from work through the downtown area. Same route I took every day. Past the coffee shop. Past the bookstore. Past the alley where homeless people sometimes gathered.
I was thinking about dinner. Maybe ordering pizza again. I'd been eating too much takeout lately but cooking for one person felt pointless.
That's when I saw them.
Three guys cornering someone in the alley. The victim looked young. Maybe a teenager. He was pressed against a brick wall while they went through his pockets.
The smart thing would have been to keep walking. Call the police from a safe distance. Mind my own business.
But something inside me snapped. Maybe it was those old superhero dreams. Maybe it was basic human decency. Maybe I was just tired of being ordinary.
"Hey!" I shouted, walking toward the alley. "Leave him alone!"
The three men turned to look at me. They were bigger than I expected. Older. More dangerous looking.
"Walk away," one of them said. His voice was calm. Matter of fact. Like he was giving me directions to the grocery store.
I should have listened. Should have backed down. Should have been smarter.
Instead, I stepped closer.
"I said leave him alone."
What happened next was quick. Brutal. Nothing like the comic books.
One of them pulled out a knife. Not to threaten me. Just used it.
The blade went between my ribs before I even realized what was happening. Sharp pain. Then spreading warmth. Then my legs giving out.
I collapsed on the dirty alley pavement. The teenager they'd been robbing was already gone. Run away the moment he had a chance.
The three men looked down at me with mild annoyance. Like I'd inconvenienced them.
"Stupid hero," one muttered.
They walked away. Left me bleeding in the alley like garbage.
As I lay there, staring up at the narrow strip of sky between buildings, I thought about those childhood dreams. About wanting to be Superman. About saving people.
I'd tried to be a hero. For maybe thirty seconds.
And it got me killed.
The world went dark.
When I opened my eyes I was somewhere else entirely.
I was in a room filled with white stuff. The couch was white. The kitchen was white. The walls were white. The floor was white. The ceiling was white. Everything was white.
It hurt to look at. Like staring directly into a bright light. But somehow I couldn't look away.
I tried to move and realized I could. My body felt normal. The stab wound was gone. The pain had disappeared.
Everything felt strange. Like I was floating instead of walking.
I got up to sit down on the couch and wait for what was coming towards me. I didn't know why I knew something was coming. I just did.
The couch was soft but cold. Like sitting on a cloud made of ice.
One hour passed.
The room stayed exactly the same. No sounds. No movement. Just endless white silence.
Two hours passed.
I tried calling out. "Hello?" My voice echoed strangely. Like it was being absorbed by the walls.
Three hours passed.
I got up and explored. Opened cabinets in the white kitchen. They were empty. Tried doors that wouldn't budge. Windows that showed nothing but more white.
Four hours passed.
The boredom was getting to me. I started counting things. White tiles on the floor. White panels on the ceiling. It didn't help.
Five hours passed.
I was getting hungry but there was no food. Thirsty but no water. Yet somehow I didn't feel weak. Just empty inside.
Six hours passed.
I tried to remember more about the stabbing. About my life before. But everything felt distant now. Like remembering someone else's story.
Seven hours passed.
I laid on the couch and stared at the white ceiling. Started making up shapes in the texture. A dragon. A castle. My mother's face from when I was little.
Eight hours passed.
As I looked at the clock on the white wall it went tick tock, tick tock, tick tock, tick tock.
The sound was driving me crazy. It was the only noise in this place. Constant. Mechanical. Cold.
I was getting very sleepy. The white room felt like it was draining my energy. As time passed I got very tired. My eyelids felt heavy.
When I was about to go to sleep I heard a knock.
Three sharp raps on what sounded like the front door. A door I hadn't even noticed before.
My heart started racing. Finally. Someone was here.
I got up quickly. Almost tripped over my own feet. Rushed to the door.
As I slowly opened it there was a man standing there. He wore Roman clothes. A white toga with gold trim. Sandals that looked ancient. His skin was pale like marble.
In my mind, I thought who is this guy. He looked powerful. Important. Like someone who could command armies.
As he slowly walked towards me, his footsteps made no sound on the white floor.
His eyes were the strangest part. They seemed to look right through me. Like he could see everything I'd ever done. Every secret I'd ever kept.
"Hello," I said. My voice sounded small in the vast white space.
"Hello," he said back. His voice was deep. Commanding. It filled the entire white room.
He had a stern look on his face. Not angry exactly. But serious. Like a judge about to deliver a verdict.
He stopped right in front of me. Towered over me even though I wasn't that short.
"What would you wish for if you went to another world?" he asked. With a stern face that would make a lion scared.
The question caught me off guard. Another world? What did that mean? Was I dead? Was this some kind of afterlife?
My mind raced through possibilities. I thought about those superheroes from my childhood bedroom wall. About all the comic books I'd read. All the movies I'd watched.
"Maybe a system?" I said. The words came out before I could think about them.
I wasn't even sure why I said it. It just felt right somehow. Like that's what heroes in stories always got. Some kind of special power or ability.
"You will get what you want," he said simply.
He reached into his toga and pulled out something small. It looked like a button. Or maybe a switch. It glowed with a soft golden light.
As he was about to press it, I wanted to ask him questions. Who was he? Where was I? What happened to my mom? Was she okay?
But the words wouldn't come. I just stood there, frozen, watching his finger move toward the glowing button.