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Chapter Two: The Meeting with God
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The white stretched endlessly—less empty space, more patient silence. It pressed gently against his ears, muffling even his own heartbeat. It was a silence so complete it felt like the world was holding its breath. Then, a voice cut through it—calm, deep, and steady, like gravel wrapped in velvet.
> God: "You're awake, Death."
From the haze, a figure emerged. Not quite human, not quite divine—tall, draped in a shifting cloak woven from shadows and light. His eyes held storms and stars, restless and ancient. The air around him smelled faintly of cold smoke and ancient paper—the scent of forgotten knowledge and smoldering secrets.
The figure moved with a grace that seemed both effortless and inevitable. His voice was slow, deliberate, laced with quiet amusement, as if watching a puzzle solve itself one piece at a time.
> MC: "Death? I don't think I'm death."
He blinked, voice dry. "If I'm honest... I don't even know my own name."
> God: "Even I don't know your true name."
The figure's eyes softened, almost kindly. "You are more than a name. You are the Forgotten One."
The cloak whispered as it shifted, like distant thunder rolling across a midnight sky. The void around them pulsed with his breath—a rhythm ancient and unyielding.
> MC: "The Forgotten One..."
He echoed, low. "That fits. I like that."
> God: "Names are fragile things. What matters is the role you'll play. Death isn't the end, but balance. And you, Forgotten One, are the hand that holds it steady."
The words settled over him like cold ash, heavy and real.
> MC: "So what? You want me to be some kind of grim reaper now?"
God: "No. You are Death's shadow—the unseen thread weaving the fabric together."
> MC: "Why me? I'm nobody."
God: "Exactly. Nobody is perfect—unseen, unburdened, unbroken."
The claim stung, but not unpleasantly. Being invisible had been his armor for years.
> MC: "What do you want from me?"
God: "Not what I want. What balance demands. Death is a thread in a vast tapestry, and you'll mend its tears."
> MC: "There's a catch, right?"
God: "Catch implies choice. This is necessity. You will lose much—some things you don't yet know you have."
> MC: "Can I say no?"
God: "You can. But refusal is another kind of death. Few who refuse find peace."
A faint wind stirred the void—fresh rain on dry earth, the kind of scent that wakes memories even if you don't want them to.
> MC: "Am I still alive?"
God: "In some ways. But the world you knew has already slipped through your fingers."
> MC: "Why this void? Why now?"
God: "Because here, time holds no sway, and truths cannot hide."
The air thickened, like breathing through velvet shadows.
> MC: "If I accept, what happens to me?"
God: "You'll bear the weight of those caught between life and death. That burden is yours alone."
> MC: "What if I'm not strong enough?"
God: "Strength is earned, not given. Your fear is the first step."
> MC: "Will I see my family again?"
God: "In shadows between worlds, some reunions are possible. Others are lost forever."
God's gaze sharpened, eyes like distant stars burning through the void, piercing yet cold.
> God: "Don't you have more questions? Others would ask—How did I come to be? Why did I create? How deep does the balance run?"
The MC shrugged, unimpressed.
> MC: "Meh. Not interested. It's pretty obvious what I care about."
He met God's eyes steadily. "Death."
Silence stretched—heavy, electric, waiting.
Inside, the MC's mind churned, racing through everything he'd ever wondered.
Death.
It wasn't just the end—he knew that much. It was bigger, something raw beneath the quiet finality.
He'd never understood it. Not really.
Not the part about what comes next. Or why sometimes it felt like release, other times a curse.
And now—here he was. Face to face with it. Or at least with the one who held the strings.
This is a chance, he thought. A real one.
No more sitting on the sidelines, guessing and pretending he wasn't curious.
He wanted to see behind the curtain. Understand the mechanics, the rules, the weight.
Maybe even change the game.
Because if Death was a role, a force, a shadow—then it was worth knowing everything about it.
Even if it meant carrying the burden.
A tight knot twisted in his chest—a mixture of fear and something sharper, sharper still: hope.
Because maybe, just maybe, this was where he finally mattered.
God's hand slipped into the folds of his cloak, moving slow and deliberate. He withdrew a small, flickering ember—alive yet cold, glowing with a light that seemed both ancient and urgent.
> God: "This is the Heart of Balance. Lose it, and the worlds unravel. Guard it well, Forgotten One."
The ember pulsed softly in his palm, light dancing like fireflies caught in glass.
He extended it toward the MC.
The light reflected in his eyes—a mixture of awe, doubt, and something raw: responsibility.
> MC: "And if I fail?"
God's smile was slow, almost sad.
> God: "Then the silence you know now becomes chaos."
The ember flickered violently. The void trembled.
Suddenly, shadows crept in from the edges—thick, hungry, whispering with voices like broken glass.
> God: "Your time here is ending. Choose, Forgotten One."
The MC's hand hovered over the ember, the weight of the unknown pressing down like a storm about to break.
The void swallowed his breath.
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To Be Continued…
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