Twenty-four years old and I already have high cholesterol! Raiden Murphy began to once again assess his young life as he walked in the cool spring weather on his way to his next appointment. It wasn’t so much that his was an inactive life – heck, he even played sports growing up – but since those days he had become soft, even managing to build up an extra tire around his waist. Those dang Oreos, they’re too good to stop eating; and you have to pair real whole milk with them, anything else would waste the indulgence. And bacon... what am I supposed to do, just stop living?

  But stress, stress was a problem, both from having it, and from the way it made him live. Up late nights, binging on Oreos or the saturated fat of the day, and just getting down on himself for where he was in life. Between the stress and the poor eating habits, acne would flare up from time to time on his face. Much of his stress came from his lack of success in life, though there were other contributors. He had what he called lazy ambition - a desire to do great things, too great, so great it was too much to get started. Why couldn’t I think small for once, something good but achievable?

  It didn’t help that Raiden had a knack for being easily distracted. The only thing he could do without distraction was, well, find more distractions, like getting lost in his own thoughts. People with Attention Deficit Disorder might feel better about themselves after seeing his version of it.

  Traffic was heavy but the stride from his modest but lanky 5’11” frame allowed him to make quick work crossing through the slow-moving cars. And they were loud, but not enough to keep him from his contemplations of self pity. His older sister had married into money, she was traveling everywhere and enjoying life. Raiden was decent looking with light brown hair and light blue eyes, but his younger brother had dark brown hair and deep brown eyes set on a perfectly symmetrical face with high cheekbones above a strong jaw. Whenever they met girls, his brother always stole their attention. Then when his younger brother had finished school and snagged a sweet gig at some oil company it was a knife to Raiden’s pride. There he was; no degree, bouncing around jobs he hated just to pay the bills. And the best that got him was an apartment with a long walk to everything. Thus, where he was now; walking, again. He liked to say that if they were honest, the slogan for his apartments should be, Too close to drive, too far to walk.

  Raiden tried to pull himself out of his depression, it’s time I dig in and go all out on that venture I've been thinking about. Time to act. Then I can afford a gym membership, maybe even have the free time to go there now and then. I’ll begin by—darkness hit. Unexpectedly and completely. In a panic his mind raced to figure out what had happened. The last thing he remembered from his environment was someone shouting, some tires screeching, and then, the darkness. That had to be it, I’ve been hit by a friggin vehicle and I am in a coma, or…I’m dead. Even in a dire circumstance, his habit of getting lost in thought was too ingrained to break, I don’t know whether it would be a good thing I couldn’t spend another 50 years falling short, or bad that I never had a chance to make it big.

  As Raiden debated himself against the benevolence of his death, a beam of light broke through the darkness and began to swell. With the light came warmth and peace. There was so much peace that, to his surprise, when a figure of a woman appeared he wasn’t scared. Raiden was so overwhelmed by the sense of her compassion that he could not focus enough to see that she was radiant. Light seemed to bleed from every part of her like heat would in the cold of night. Despite the glowing effect this caused, the details of her physical form were sharp enough to reveal a captivating beauty. And still, all Raiden could see was her smile.

  Though her lips never moved, her words reached him. “Raiden Murphy,” a soft and loving voice carried to him, “your journey on Earth has reached its end, yet you are blessed with a rare and precious opportunity. There exists another realm, fragile and on the verge of collapse, longing for a soul with the power to alter its fate. You possess the qualifications for this noble mission. Thus, you are presented with a choice: transcend your mortal existence or extend your life into this new world. There is one condition: you must devote your life to nurturing and saving this world.”

  Raiden was in shock, but the comfort of her divine presence kept him calm, focused, and thoughtful. Needing clarification, a bit of his pride slipped in, “So, if I choose to go to this new world, I would be some kind of superhero or something?”

  “You are who you are in this moment, and that essence will remain unchanged when you arrive. To grow stronger, it is through your own efforts that you must seek it. Each step towards personal growth carries its own price, and you must pay it willingly. True self worth is never given freely; it is earned through your own dedication and perseverance.”

  Concerned now at his pitiful record to date he thought through the cost, Would I be willing to finally act and do something hard? Am I even up to the task? Maybe this could earn me the opportunity to return home?

  As if hearing his thoughts, she added, “This task carries many unique requirements, each essential for the chance of success. These preconditions have been meticulously vetted, and when I say it, it is true; you are indeed qualified for this endeavor. However, you must understand that, regardless of what you choose to do next, your earthly life has come to an end, and there is no return. Therefore, your choices are twofold: leave your natural life behind or embrace a new mortal existence devoted to serving another realm.”

  He was comforted by her words, and though he believed her, the fear of his weakness never fully left him. Raiden had a history of selfishness, not directly, rather from blindness to the plight of others. Inside, he had a good heart. And he knew if he chose a second life, he could not continue as he has. He would have to commit entirely to his purpose. Life would not be for comfort and ease, it would be a life of service. Could I really do that? Raiden worried. Seeking for hope, he asked, “Tell me, how can I do this?”

  For a sharp moment she looked at him, her eyes piercing into his, gathering his needs, “Your success is not defined by your achievements or how you compare to others. Your journey of service has one true direction: to become. Strive to be more today than you were yesterday. Persist on this path, regardless of your failures, fears, and shortcomings. Simply... continue to become.”

  These words seared into his soul. Becoming better than what he was is a bar that even he could reach, and inside he longed to be able to give to others, to be of worth to others. So he chose.

  “Ok, I’m in. I’ll do it.”

  You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

  She smiled at him with tender admiration, “Then, you shall become.” At that, the conversation ended. As the light of her presence dwindled away, the warmth dissipated, and Raiden’s consciousness faded with it, into sleep.

  After what seemed in his mind as only a moment later but physically felt much longer, his eyes began to lift again. Or, he thought they would lift, but they were too heavy. He felt like he was just hit by a bus. You know, he considered, I might have actually been hit by a bus. Raiden could tell he was naked from the breeze on his skin. He strained to continue waking up, to lift those weighted eyelids, until finally, with vision blurred, he could make out the shape of a small room. With that effort depleting his remaining strength, he drifted back to sleep.

  The next time he woke, it felt like a long sleep for both his body and his mind. Once again, his eyelids were stubborn with heaviness, but he persevered, and through his effort, he began to open his eyes. This time the blur in his vision was not permanent, and details of his room began to come into focus. Maybe his condition of death and rebirth played tricks on his mind, but the room seemed different. It seemed bigger than the blurry room from before.

  It was a simple room, but also odd. Laying flat on his back, the first thing that came into focus was the ceiling and its absence of a light fixture. Glancing around the room he couldn’t see any lamps either. Just an unlit candle on a table to his left, and light coming through a window on the right. And that wasn’t all that was odd about the room. The furniture, the trim, and room decor were all very, well, rustic. Clean but not modern by any means. The walls were plain, off-white, and a bit rough like dried plaster. The entire room was void of ornamentation of any kind with only one exception. On each side of the window hung large flat wooden panels, adding desperately needed decoration to liven up the otherwise drabby room. There was a simple wooden door on the wall opposite the window, a few feet away from the foot of his bed. The table was also made of plain wood and looked handmade. It definitely didn’t have uniform machining and it reminded Raiden of a wooden table from some movie in medieval times.

  Raiden was on a new planet and had no idea what that world was like, nor did he have a way to know exactly where he was in that new place. All he could do was compare the environment to what he did know.

  Great, I’m in a scary old-timey hospital, was his conclusion from what he could see from where he lay. I hope they don’t try to shove turpentine down my throat, or some other sketchy snake oil to ‘heal’ me. And healing he needed. He felt weak everywhere, even the blanket on him felt like five massive weighted blankets stacked on top of each other. In his weak state, even moving his head took too much effort. Am I paralyzed? He wondered. Dying in a physically destructive way, and then coming back to life sure can take a toll on you. ‘Four out of five doctors recommend against it,’ he attempted to cheer himself up with.

  Just then a woman entered the room dressed in what was clearly a uniform. It was an unadorned blue one-piece outfit, made to look like a dress shirt and skirt, which went down half way between her knees and feet. She had an off-white, almost beige, apron covering two thirds of the front of her outfit. Her dark brown hair was pulled back tightly into a ponytail, except in the front where cleanly trimmed bangs covered the sides of her face down to just below her cheekbones. She was middle-aged, healthy looking, and not very attractive but also not unattractive. And she was human. Thank heavens, Raiden sighed in Relief. No doubt she’s the nurse.

  She reached to grab a paper off the table and noticed his eyes were open. Jolted by the new development she brightened with eyes raised.Walking towards him, she said in a surreal voice, “Eshlefma, ze tuesh ma daletma rifa?”

  “Lady, I have no idea what you're saying. Can you speak English?”

  As her cheerful face slipped into confusion, Raiden couldn’t help wondering, I’ve been sent here by an angel (or some kind of divinity) with a mission to save the planet. Surely as an intergalactic traveler there must be a language translator, or language skill I can get.

  The nurse approached the side of the bed and said in a slow, even tone, “Esh' dalet, khava ang ma fa?”

  “I still don’t understand you.” Raiden remarked as he shook his head and squinted one side of his face to try an expression of ‘I don’t understand.’ Slowing down he continued, “Translator, do you have a translator? Something to help me speak your language?” This is like an isekai right? Where’s my free translation skill as an outworlder? LitRPG books really let me down on this one.

  The nurse snapped her fingers with eureka on her face, raised her index finger into the air as if to tell him to wait, turned, and left the room. “Finally, she’s off to grab my translator.” With the room to himself Raiden was left alone to his thoughts. Where the heck am I? Am I really in a new world I was sent to help? Or was that a dream and I’m in some hack of a medical facility recovering from the car accident— maybe I’ve been shanghaied to Mexico and they took one of my kidneys! Then rational thought returned, No, I could not have dreamed that experience with the divine, it was just too impactful to deny. Raiden had no issues with leaving behind his failures, but he did miss his family, and not being able to say goodbye. And yet, something in his conversation with the woman gave him hope and courage, to live this new life, without looking back. It surprised him how peaceful he was amidst the insanity of death, seeing some kind of angel, and then going to a new world.

  It was several minutes later when she returned with a companion following closely behind her, peering over the nurse’s shoulder to steal a view of Raiden.

  Like all things tend to do, the new visitor distracted Raiden from seeing what kind of translator the nurse had brought. Next thing he knew she was at his side with… a vial of liquid? The vial itself was glossy like glass, but it very much looked like it was made of fine wood which Raiden found to be very cool looking. The liquid, though, was a dark, almost greasy looking yellow. Like a darker, heavier olive oil, but more yellow.

  “Holy crap, that isn’t turpentine is it? Cause it kinda looks like turpentine.”

  Ignoring his outburst the nurse lifted the vial towards his mouth. He attempted to block her with his hand but it was strapped down by the heavy blanket, as if he was in a psych ward. Raiden resorted to turning his head away but he couldn’t move it quickly enough, and she promptly poured the liquid down his throat with a nod of satisfaction.

  That... was... horrible! Raiden half gagged as his eyes rolled back and the sticky liquid coated the back of his throat. He wanted to spit it out but he was lying flat on his back and couldn’t turn his head enough to expel it. With his head flat on the bed, it almost felt like just as much of it went up the back of his throat as went down it.

  “Did that go up into my brain?!” he blurted out in terror.

  The nurse and her new friend stood silently by the bed and watched him recover for a few moments. Sensing that he had indeed choked the sludge down, the new visitor spoke briefly to the nurse, then they proceeded to walk out of the room.

  “You know,” he croaked with resignation to anyone that might have been listening, “that very well could have been turpentine, it was definitely nasty enough for it.”

  With the room quiet once again, and the anxiety of strange events settling in his brain, the exhaustion returned to his body. So soon? I just barely woke up, what does that say about my health? With the toxic taste of the viscous drink still in the back of his throat, he happily acquiesced to sleep.