A man without a name was dying in the bed of his apartment, alone. The silence of the room was almost oppressive, broken only by the faint and irregular sounds of his breathing, which sounded more like laments than signs of life.
His face was pale and sweaty, and the deep wrinkles now etched into his skin revealed a suffering that seemed endless. His eyes, which once reflected some kind of desire or curiosity, were now empty, as if all the light had been drained from them, leaving behind only a living corpse.
He tried to move, but his muscles were weak, heavy. He tried to raise his hand, but it no longer responded, as if his own body had given up on him.
"Is this how it ends?" he thought. "Dying alone, leaving nothing behind but bitter memories?" The pain in his body was unbearable, but the pain of knowing that, deep down, no one cared was what truly suffocated him. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to escape, but all his memories hit him like a wave, bringing more regret, more failure.
His thoughts were confused, clouded, wavering between moments of lucidity and fever-induced delirium. Sometimes, he thought he heard footsteps. Soft, almost imperceptible. As if someone were approaching his door.
"It must be Death. She's coming to fetch me now," he thought, trying to accept it. The thought didn't bring him relief — only the certainty that there was nothing more to be done.
The pain was not only physical. It was a constant, cutting pain that came from within, and he knew it would never end. In his mind, he could see all the moments of his life parading before him. Every betrayal, every mistake, every wrong choice, all blending into what seemed like an eternity of regret. And in the end, what did he see? A wasted life.
"Is that all? Was it really just this? Did I do this to myself?" he thought, feeling anger rise in his chest. But that anger had no target. It was inside him, consuming everything.
The apartment seemed to disappear, the walls blurring in his hazy vision. The room, with its sad walls and furniture worn down by time, slowly vanished as he sank into the bed, swallowed by a darkness that seemed to consume everything. It was as if nothing else existed, as if his very life was being erased, slowly, with no one around to care or even notice.
And then, the thought returned.
"Will anyone miss me? Will anyone remember me? Or will it be as if I never existed?" He let out a low, humorless laugh. Of course not. No one had ever really cared. He had been just another face, another body, another piece of forgotten flesh in the daily routine of people who never noticed him.
In his final moments, the anger, like poison, spread through him. Not for something specific. Not for something he could change now. But for the entire life he had not known how to live properly. For the wife who betrayed him, for the daughter who never understood him, for the choices he knew he would never have another chance to fix.
"Unfair. All of this is so unfair," he thought, as the pain intensified. "I deserved more. I deserved a chance."
But there were no more chances. Nothing remained. His body stopped responding, his chest tightened, and he felt that finally, what had been happening for so long was about to come to pass. The end. And deep down, he knew: there was nothing more to be done. Only to let go. The hatred, the anger, the frustration. Everything would go away with him.
"Fuck it," he thought, finally surrendering. There was nothing left. Only the end.
The world around him dissolved into complete silence.
And he let go.
---
Suddenly, a soft glow filled the room. He opened his eyes, and an ethereal figure, like a mirage, formed before him. It was a young woman with pink hair falling in soft waves over her shoulders, wearing a white uniform that shone with an almost divine purity. "Am I hallucinating?" he thought, trying to focus his blurry vision. The figure seemed to solidify, becoming clearer with each passing second.
She smiled, a gentle and comforting smile that contrasted with the harshness of the world around him. "Hello," she said, her voice like an angelic song, reverberating through the small room. "I am the Goddess of Reincarnation."
He blinked, confused, his mind struggling to comprehend what was happening. "Am I hallucinating...? Is this real?"
"Yes," she answered, stepping forward, her bare feet almost floating above the ground. "You are on the brink of death, but your time has not yet come."
Before he could protest, the world around him changed. The apartment disappeared, replaced by an endless garden filled with lush plants and vibrant flowers, each more beautiful and vivid than the last. At the center, a sakura tree stretched into infinity, its petals dancing in the air as if alive. He looked around, amazed. "Where am I?"
"This is the Garden of Souls," said the Goddess, appearing at his side as if she had always been there. "It is where souls come before they reincarnate."
He shook his head, trying to process everything. "Reincarnate? Why? My life is over..."
She nodded with understanding, her gaze full of empathy. "Yes, but your karma is good, and your life was filled with suffering. You deserve a second chance."
He frowned, pain and disbelief still etched on his face. "I don't want another life. I'm still attached to this one. There are things I want to resolve."
She raised her hand and snapped her fingers. Instantly, images of his life flashed before his eyes. He saw his wife betraying him, the pain and humiliation he felt. He saw the daughter he raised calling her mother's lover "father." And then he saw all the misfortune and agony that marked his existence, every betrayal, every disappointment, culminating in his lonely and agonizing death.
"This..." A fury rose inside him, a rage he thought he had overcome. "This is unfair. I want revenge!"
The Goddess shook her head, her expression still serene. "Revenge would corrupt your good karma. But I can offer something better. I will reincarnate you in a world where you will be valued, in a better body, and with all the bad luck of your past life reversed."
He hesitated, but the temptation was too great. "And if I accept, everything will be different?"
She nodded, a glimmer of hope in her eyes. "Yes, you will have a life full of luck and opportunities."
He closed his eyes for a moment, pondering, weighing his options. Then, he opened them with renewed determination. "I can't promise anything... but I accept."
The Goddess smiled, and with a gentle gesture, his body began to dissolve into sakura petals. He felt a strange lightness as his being disintegrated, preparing for a new life. The petals surrounded him, spinning in a vortex of colors and fragrances, until he disappeared completely.
---
Apparently, he had reincarnated. He didn't know how much time had passed, but he knew he was developing.
He could hear now.
There were sounds of groans of pain echoing around him, but he barely registered them. He was trying to grasp the presence that seemed to be sharing the "womb" with him. But he lost the chance when he was pushed out of his sacred place.
At that moment, he could feel the cold air touch his skin. He saw what he imagined to be a star. He could feel the hands of a person on his body as they quickly wrapped him in their arms — normally, this would be disconcerting, but now, he felt nothing of the sort.
Opening his eyes immediately, which adjusted to the light almost instantly, he found his gaze locked onto a baby sleeping peacefully beside him.
Turning his gaze forward, when he felt an arm pressed against his body, the former human found himself looking into the eyes of a beautiful woman.
She wore what looked like a white tunic over her head, and her silky brown hair cascaded down her shoulders and hips in waves. Her hazel-colored eyes were loving, filled with a maternal aura. Her face was rounded and fair-skinned, adorned with a radiant smile.
(*Note: She resembles Gwynevere from *Dark Souls*.)
"Hah...?" His eyes filled with understanding, and he was surprised to realize that he had literally been reborn as a baby, no words forming in his mind. He... was confused? Could he blame the Goddess for this?
"Don't worry, my child," the woman, who he now knew was his mother, said softly, lifting him a little and pressing the side of his face against her soft, white tunic, right around her breast. Resting his head against her left breast, which was softer than... when was the last time he had slept?
He couldn't remember... so it was a foreign feeling to him.
"Shh... just rest!" she spoke gently to him.
Still confused by his situation, he looked again at the other baby in his new mother's arms. The one who had been born alongside him. From what he understood, she was probably his sister.
"Ah, I see you've noticed your sister," his new mother commented softly. "This is Hestia, my dear. Your older twin."
Older twin...?
"Now, what shall I name you?" she asked aloud, drawing his attention once more as she thought to herself. After a few seconds of murmuring, she spoke softly.
"Hades…"
She murmured before her eyes refocused and she nodded in satisfaction.
"Yes, that will suit you well. Hestia and Hades, my children..." Sadness seemed to overtake the woman's expression.
"Then... you've already had them, Rhea..." a deep voice said out of nowhere, full of lackluster enthusiasm, drawing his gaze to the cave entrance, where a strong-looking, middle-aged man stood imposingly. His gaze fixed on them.
He had brown skin with a kind of white/golden tint and short, well-kept silver-blond hair. He wore a white tunic similar to Rhea's, but his was more white and gold. His body was muscular and tall, though not as tall as he was in his former life.
Around 1.90m.
(*Note: He resembles "Deus" from *Asura's Wrath*.)
His instincts immediately warned him that this man was a challenger.
"Cronus..." Rhea said back, without affection or emotion. "Please... they are our children..."
'So this man is my father?'
Looking back, he could see the man muttering something to the woman.
"The prophecy foresaw it, Rhea. I cannot allow it to happen."
'A prophecy?'
"Hand them over to me, Rhea. Now," the now-named Cronus demanded coldly as his body suddenly began to grow.
A normal person would feel fear at his enormous, house-sized stature, but compared to the stars, he was like an ant to him. No, he felt... curious.
So he just looked impassively at Rhea, who trembled with clear anguish and pain in her eyes as she rose from the stone floor and reluctantly placed him and his new sister into the man's palm.
"I'm sorry," she whispered to them, crying softly.
He felt nothing for it. He didn't feel anger at her for yielding; in fact, he felt disappointed. He was not someone who immediately felt a "deep" connection to a woman he had just met, and seeing the woman who bore him give up without fighting was disappointing to his conclusion.
But soon, his disappointment gave way to irritation when Cronus lifted him and his sister above his head and opened his mouth.
This time, he — now Hades — was genuinely surprised, his eyes widening as he and Hestia fell straight into Cronus's open mouth.
And in his mind, Hades was only thinking during his fall—
"DAMN THIS WORLDDDDDDDDDDDDD!"