The supervisor of Section 2B was pathetic.
His shoulders were always slouched over, his body was chubby. His face was greasy and his hairline was receding at twenty-three. Not because of any medical condition, but because of his own poor choices.
He was a man who had never worked a day in his life, who was so inept and careless that the only reason he still had his job was because his mother was in a high corporate position.
He had cost the factory many thousands of dollars due to his negligence, leading to several of their workers being seriously injured.
A healthy worker was good because they produced profits. A dead worker was good because of their life insurance.
An injured worker was just a money drain.
And yet, he kept his position, because those beneath him had no say in the matter, and those above him were scared to face his mother.
This was the kind of man Andrew was.
"Yeah, that's right you fucking slag! Forget that filthy bastard! You're my personal slave now!"
This was the man railing Olivia from behind. He could tell from looking at her eyes, that she barely felt anything from his efforts. And yet, she put on one hell of a show for him, slandering Michael and giving undue praises to that worthless man.
His expression grew solemn as he watched Andrew finish inside. And then his eyes widened as he saw him fall back, his elbow snagging a rusty lever and pulling it downwards.
Next to the lever was a simple label that read: Sulfuric Acid.
"You've. Got. To. Be. Fucking. Kidding. Me."
Every word struggled to make it out of his clenched teeth as the veins on his forehead bulged violently. He turned to Olivia and saw her emotionless eyes, contrasting the sound of her faux satisfaction.
Sirens went off in the building.
Will brought them out of the room and Michael watched as the vat of steaming Sulfuric Acid began bubbling. The hatch at the bottom had opened. He was going to die in a handful of seconds.
It had been days since he had last seen Olivia, and now he knew why…
The crimson flames around him became a dull gray as he remembered his last living emotion.
Nothing.
He had felt nothing as he watched the Sulfuric Acid streaming towards him. And now, he truly felt nothing for what his life had become.
What these two had had was a sick perversion of love. It might have even stung a little if not for far greater losses in the past.
A snap of Will's fingers brought them back to what Michael called the afterlife.
"You know-"
"Don't," he said, interrupting Will with a deadpan tone. "I can already guess. Andrew pinned the blame on her, and she's even worse off now. I don't care."
"Ahem." Will cleared its throat nervously. "Sorry."
"What now?" Michael echoed one of his first questions.
Without missing a beat, Will moved on to the next topic.
"I will give you four options. Normally, I only give my children two options, but I'll make an exception for you. After living through the cycle of life, death, and rebirth for a little more than two hundred years"
"What do you mean by two hundred? Aren't I twenty-nine years old?"
"Your body was twenty-nine years old when you died. You, are two hundred."
"That explains literally nothing, Will."
"Silly child, it's impossible for you to understand the way a soul works. Why would I bother explaining it?"
"Because I'm curious, and you love me."
"...Fine. To summarize, a soul is born only when certain conditions are met. You met those conditions a few life times ago. You've chosen to reincarnate within my cosmos three times thus far."
"And funnily enough, now that I'm on this subject… There are many humans that live long and complex lives without ever meeting those aforementioned conditions. They die and cease to exist forever."
"And those conditions?"
"Too complex for your mortal mind. You'd have a better shot at killing a Sage as you are now than you would have at even beginning to understand a fraction of those conditions. Anyway, enough of that, let's get to your options."
Will scratched its chin for a bit before speaking again.
"Your first option is a second chance from death. You will return to a time just before you die, without memories of our meeting of course, and an intense fear will make you get out of the pipe before the sulfuric acid starts pouring through."
"Pass."
"Your second option: reincarnation-"
"No thanks."
"HEY! Don't interrupt me! I'll rescind my generosity if you do it again!"
"Got it."
"Your second option is reincarnation within my cosmos. You will lose all of your memories, but you will retain your drive, instincts, and preferences. You might not be a human again, but there are plenty of planets that have led to the evolution of humans independent from one another, so it's not entirely impossible."
"Wait, what's the point of reincarnating if I don't keep my memories? I'm not me without my memories... Also, aliens are real?"
"Of course they are! Your most recent planet just happens to sit in the middle of nowhere, so you don't have any neighbors."
"What a lame answer."
Some of the stars in Will's face seemed to move, as if it was rolling its eyes.
"Anyway, that first part to your question is subjective. To me, your soul is the drive, instincts, and preferences, not the memories."
"I disagree with that."
"That's fine, but my cosmos, my rules. Besides… Lots of problems arise when one ties memories to the fabric of a soul."
"Tch. If you say so…"
"Your third option is to become a vagrant soul, and be reborn in another Universe."
"No tha-... Hm. Could you tell me more about that option?"
The stars scattered about Will's blank face coalesced into a cartoon-like smirk.
"You'd enter a deep, deep sleep. One so deep your soul will cease to experience the passage of time. And you'd remain asleep until another Cosmos pulls you from the Realm of Souls."
"What happens to you after that will depend on the Universe that chooses to pluck you out of there. I know some share your ideology about the soul and memories, but there are also others that don't, it'd be a coin toss."
Michael hummed to himself.
"Very interesting… And among those other Universes… there wouldn't happen to be any Universes of magic and swords, would there?"
Will chuckled.
"Oh yes, the vast majority of them are, actually."
MIchael's gaze seemed to sharpen, and without any hesitation, made his decision then and there.
"Alright. I choose to become a Vagrant Soul!"