Gideon Brangwen's life had begun in the cruel heart of Earth's unforgiving slums. It was a place where dreams were smothered at birth, where the word "family" was as alien as the stars themselves. In the shadowed alleys of this urban wasteland, he had been forged in the fires of survival. From the earliest days of his existence, he learned that trust was a currency more precious than gold, and empathy was a weakness that could kill.

As a child, Gideon's world was a desolate maze of crumbling buildings and relentless poverty. His parents were lost to him before he had any memories to cling to, and the slum had raised him with a harsh hand. He didn't know the warmth of a family's embrace or the gentle guidance of a mentor. Instead, he learned to use deception as his shield and trickery as his sword, not to thrive, but merely to scrape by.

Empathy and conscience became foreign concepts to him, buried beneath the rubble of his grim existence. He saw people as little more than the potential victims of his next exploit, his next con. It wasn't because he relished deception; it was simply the only way he knew how to survive. The world had taught him that kindness was a luxury afforded to those who could afford it, and he couldn't afford anything.

Gideon became a master of his craft. He was a con artist so skilled that he could sell non-existent houses to the desperate, or coax money from investors with promises of companies that were nothing more than figments of his imagination. His silver tongue was his most potent weapon, and he wielded it with a cold precision that left his victims in awe of his cunning.

But in the world of deception, there are no winners, only survivors. Gideon knew this all too well. Every game had an end, and even the cleverest bird could be ensnared in a well-laid trap.

It was on a chilly, moonless night that the trap closed around him. Gideon had been in the midst of a seemingly routine con, luring his latest mark into his web of deceit. As he spun his web of lies, he felt an unusual unease prickling at the edges of his consciousness. It was a sensation he couldn't quite put his finger on, an inexplicable doubt that gnawed at him.

As he continued to speak, weaving his tangled narrative, he saw a glint in the eyes of the man he was trying to deceive. It was a glint that spelled danger, and it sent a shiver down his spine. He had seen many expressions in his line of work, but this one was different. It was the look of a predator who had just spotted its prey.

Before Gideon could react, a gunshot echoed in the hotel room, and pain exploded in his chest. He gasped, his breath coming in ragged, desperate bursts. Blood oozed from the wound, staining his suit a dark, sinister red.

His gaze fixed on the man before him, the man who had pulled the trigger. The stranger wore a sinister smile, and his eyes seemed to hold a knowledge beyond mortal understanding. It was as though he had stepped out of the shadows and into Gideon's world with a purpose that transcended mere revenge.

Gideon's mind raced, his instincts screaming at him to flee. He was a master of escape, always ready with a backup plan, but this time, something was different. There were no signs, no warnings. It was as if he had been guided to this very moment by an unseen force, an omnipotent hand that had led him into this trap with chilling ease.

As his vision blurred, and the pain threatened to consume him, he couldn't help but wonder if he had finally crossed paths with a force greater than himself—a god, perhaps. The world of deceit and illusion had taught him that nothing was ever as it seemed, and in that moment of agony and revelation, Gideon Brangwen began to question everything he had ever known.

As Gideon struggled to breathe, he slowly collapsed onto the hotel room floor, his body gradually staining his once-pristine blue suit with crimson. The room was cast in a sinister shadow, illuminated only by the faint glow of streetlights seeping through the drawn curtains.

"Damn it," he managed to utter, his voice strained and weak. His gaze fixated on the blurry figure standing before him. Strangely, he couldn't discern the man's face, despite having met him just moments ago. It was as if an unseen veil obscured his memory.

The man's reaction was one of sheer panic. He let out a shrill scream, tossing the gun aside as if he had awoken from a deep slumber. "What is happening?" His voice trembled with disbelief. "Mister! Hold on, I am calling an ambulance! Hold yourself! Mister!" Desperation filled his cries as he fumbled for his phone.

It was as if something had possessed the man who had shot Gideon, a malevolent force that had just relinquished its grip.

Gideon lay on the floor, his strength waning. A faint smile curled on his lips as he whispered, "What the fuck just happened?" His vision began to blur, and the man's frantic pleas faded into the background. "So... This is it, huh?"

Everything dissolved into obscurity. Sound vanished. Gideon was left with an eerie sense of weightlessness—a freedom from the burdens of his tumultuous life, albeit temporarily.

"Forgive my way of summoning you here," a soft, ethereal voice echoed within Gideon's fading consciousness. "The divine entity ruling your world enforces strict rules when it comes to claiming souls, so I had no choice but to intervene in such a manner. I attempted to make the transition as painless as possible."

Abruptly, the pitch-black abyss that had surrounded Gideon started to soften, revealing a colossal, domed expanse. The excruciating pain that had consumed him vanished, replaced by a gentle caress of wind against his skin.

Gideon blinked his eyes open, greeted by a breathtaking sight. The hotel room had vanished, and the stabbing pain in his chest had dissipated. Instead, he found himself standing amidst a moonlit forest, the trees swaying gently in the night breeze, their leaves shimmering in the soft, silvery glow.

"Where... Am I?"

The question lingered in the air as Gideon tried to make sense of his surroundings. The transition from the hotel room to this ethereal realm left him disoriented. He felt as though he had crossed over into another world entirely.