"You were a thief." the faceless man spoke, his clasped hands in front of him. He had no eyes but I knew he was looking into mine. He was a bizarre thing to look at. The front of his face was not fully featureless. It had the dips and arches, but there was only skin where the holes should be.

He was baldness incarnate, and it glistened against the light that seem to come from everywhere in the room.

"I was." I replied. "Not proud of it, but yeah, I was a thief."

There was no denying it, so might as well gain some honesty points. It started with a couple of dollars from my mother's purse and ended with burglary. But I had hurt no one, except financially that is.

The urge to steal just became an itch that needed scratching.

"And you were selfish, unkind, rude, and vulgar." he added.

It was a hurtful accusation, but those words also described me. Despite what the movies would tell you, it's hard to be a thief and a good man at the same time.

"Yes, yes, I was a very naughty boy." I said "But who are you? And where am I?"

Not the most religious but I do know me some basic theology. I should be burning in flames right now or at least, kneeling before a great white throne, with an angel reading my sins and my sentence.

Instead, I ended up sitting at a table in front of a faceless man, inside a blindingly white room.

"No, I am not God." he answered, with the same thundering voice you would associate with God.

"St. Peter then?"

"No, not Peter either. I am Bob."

"St. Bob?"

"No, just Bob and you are neither in heaven nor hell. I plucked you out of the cycle, as no party would mind. Heaven does not admit unrepentant thieves, and hell would have found you boring."

For some reason, that hurt even more. To be an oddball in life and the afterlife was just downright cruel.

"So what's your business, Bob?"

The man stood up and walked away from the table, turning his back from me, to stare at the white wall. The cliche thing to do before saying something dramatic.

After moments of silence, he solemnly spoke.

"I am not a fan of evil, Ross. It grieves me deeply, how the wicked so impudently wreak havoc, nonchalantly making widows and orphans in their wake, without fear of retribution."

I gulped. I never did make widows and orphans in my life. Murder was a no-no for me, though it had been tempting many times.

"And I know, as perverse as you are, you share the same sentiment." he continued, to my relief.

"Yes, lord Bob. I admit I was a little mischievous but wicked no, nev-"

"Neither am I a fan of you and your misdeeds." Bob interrupted, sharply. I heard my heart pound.

"But, I am willing to give you another chance, and another life, in another world. This time, you shall do good deeds by punishing the evil in my name."

"What do you mean?" the scene was getting familiar, I think I have read about it somewhere.

Another life in another world? Was I being isekai'd?

The last scene that I remembered before dying, was a white Ford Ranger heading my way at full speed.

Can truck-kun come in a form of a pick-up truck?

"First, you will have to prove yourself to me." he turned around and lifted his hands in my direction, palms outstretched.

My brows furrowed and I was confused at first, before being absolutely terrified.

The white floor parted like a cloud and opened up a hole. And the next second I was out of the room, and falling.

---

I helplessly flailed around, wanting to grab unto something. There was only the clear blue sky and the terrifying force of gravity.

The white room was nowhere. The portal or whatever it was, closed as soon as it opened.

I was in a free fall. No parachute. If I hit the ground at that speed, I would burst like a ripe tomato.

"What the heck, Booooooo-"

My body unceremoniously hit the ground.

I could feel the blades of grass poke my skin and could see the swaying of the leaves from a nearby tree. I carefully stretched my limbs, half-expecting a jolt of pain, but no broken bones made themselves known.

It was a terrible fall, but it had the gentlest of landings. I let out a heavy sigh.

Damn, Bob. Giving me a fright like that.

It would not make sense if he took me out of the said 'cycle' just to kill me again.

After recovering from that yet another traumatic experience, I sat up and look around my surroundings.

It was earth-like. The grass was color green. The sky was blue. There was only one sun and it was yellow.

But I was in the middle of nowhere. It was the greenness of the plains on all sides, and the few trees and rocks that dotted the view. Except for what looked like a single cabin in the distance, there was no other sign of human habitation.

Then I looked at myself. No pain, but there were several unfamiliar sensations. The last time I checked, I was wearing a simple white shirt, jogging pants, and a pair of sneakers.

Needless to say, there were there no more. In their place were a thickly padded tunic, tight but thin woolen leggings, and a pair of worn leather boots.

Not only that, strapped to my waist by a leather belt was a short sword.

It was medieval attire. And they looked like the kind of items a player would be given at the beginning of an RPG game. The newbie adventurer starter pack.

At a mental command, the blue screen appeared. And it did not totally surprise me that it did.

[

Player: Ross Paul

Level: 1

Experience: 0

Rank: N/A

Reputation: 0

Stats:

Strength: 4

Agility: 7

Intellect: 6

Charisma: 4]

What did surprise me, was how ordinary my stats were. It was what a beginning player would have but not one that an isekai'd level beginning player should have. Shouldn't I have a cheat or something?

Because if not, this wouldn't be a good litrpg story at all. I have the IQ of a brick, and a body only good at running. I wasn't good at video games either. Why would anyone even choose me, for this thing?

A scream rang up from far behind me, taking me out of my thoughts. At the same time, a new window popped up.

[Main Quest: Worthy Vessel

Description: Prove yourself worthy to Bob. Protect the villagers from the thug.

Rewards: 50 Experience, Servant Rank.]

The title of the quest immediately reminded me of the last words Bob said, before he rudely chucked me downwards. About proving myself worthy.

I looked at the rewards. Perhaps the cheat will only be given after I had fulfilled the quest.

I rose from my feet and spun around. Only then did I discover there was a dirt path, snaking through the meadows.

The cry for help came from the group of what looked like farmers, from about twenty yards away. They brought grain with them, contained in their small man-pulled carts.

The farmers weren't the only ones on the road. Five rough-looking, wielding wooden clubs, blocked the path. The typical thug thing to do.

"You there, lad! Help us!" one of the farmers saw me, and called out.

All the heads turned, including the thugs.

Crap.

"What do you want young'n? Do you want to use your little sword on us? If I were you, I'd start walking away in the other direction." the biggest of the guys, turned to face me.

He had a very muscular build, and a scar on his face that made him look scary. And he acted the part really well.

Now, I was a thief but never a gangster. Gangsters scare the crap out of me.

"I was just lost. I was looking for my... uhm... my cat. Yes, I lost my cat." I said.

"Your cat?" the guy chuckled "The only pussy here is you."

Turned out that was a very funny insult because the rest of the thugs lost it and burst into laughter.

I turned around. I saw the farmers shaking their heads, doubtlessly disappointed. But why would they expect to risk my life for strangers?

"That's what I thought. Run back to Mama." a different voice said.

"I bet your dad's disappointed in his sissy son." then another.

The rest of the rubble was throwing insults now that I was no longer facing them, like little chihuahuas behind a closed gate.

I was used to ridicule. All my life, people only had bad things to say to me. So these bandits could run their mouth and they wouldn't hurt me even a bit.

I kept walking. How childish, they are.

"Sell that sword and buy a hoe, young man. You are a useless, spineless coward, that's better off fighting dirt." came another insult but I recognized the voice, it was from the old man who called for my help.

I halted in my tracks. That was pretty mean. Cowardice he may call it, but I call it self-preservation. Tucking my tail and running, and not getting involved in other people's business had saved me countless times.

"Shut your trap, old man. How dare you join in." I heard the old man grunt, likely hit by the ruffians. "Now hand over your silver!"

I heaved a sigh and turned back around. Do I always have to be running, though? My previous life was exciting... for the first twenty years, that is.

Then I realized that I could not run forever, and a cop would eventually get me, or a lowly Ford Raptor.

Maybe I should try something different this time.