DASHA PANG POV

"You are dead."

That was one hell of a way to wake up. In front of Dasha Pang was a bizarre woman. Long box-braided black hair, dark skin, and white wings that spanned half the room. A room that was totally blank. White.

Before this, Dasha recalled sleeping. 'Did I die in my sleep? That's preposterous. I was perfectly healthy.'

Healthy didn't fully describe Dasha. He worked out in specific increments and taught himself nearly every single martial art the world had to offer. In his college years, he had been a candidate for the Olympics and declined solely because he wanted to focus on his studies. Recreationally, he did rock climbing, hiking, archery, and escape artistry. He visited different governments. He studied. He influenced.

He did everything in his power to live a long, fulfilling life, pushing the very boundaries between life and death, yet here he was being told that his work and effort was for naught. Dead after falling asleep. His memory was perfect. No gaps in the last twelve hours. He was a university professor and went to bed after grading a whole class worth of assignments. He was neither mentally nor physically drained. 

Dasha noticed he was sitting on a chair. He tried to get up. He couldn't. He narrowed his eyes. Everything above his neck seemed to function normally. "Who are you?" he asked.

"I am Azrael, Angel of Death."

Ordinarily, he would call this room and this woman a sham. But he could sense an ethereal power from her. She was steady and unwavering, from her voice to her posture. She wasn't lying, that was for sure.

"I'm dead," Dasha repeated. He craned his neck, the process slow. They were inside a cubicle white room or something of that nature. There was no door. "Where am I then?"

'How did she and I even get in here?'

Azrael started speaking again. "Gods. Religions. Myths. Demons. Stories perpetuated by humans. Concepts rejected by modern humans. Beliefs slowly withering from the human psyche. Yet, as the saying goes, all lies hold a grain of truth to them. How do humans, regardless of geography and religion, hold similar beliefs in regards to death? How come world trees and magic all exist within the pages of their sacred books? How come monkey kings and godly archers are so common?"

Dasha didn't answer her question. He remained silent, gaze trained on her. She was tall, powerful, and clad in black garbs, and radiated a black, deathly aura. Invisible to the human eye but perceptible to his remaining senses. The taste, the smell, the sound of her voice, it was ashy and dark.

"High above, beyond the scope of the universe, we are here. Angels, gods, demons. All of us exist. Divided in our realms and united at the advent of the Heavenly Games."

"The Heavenly Games?"

"When death takes hold of a body, the soul is sent outside reality. Here, in the world beyond worlds. Depending on their beliefs, they go to heaven or hell, or perhaps they reenter the cycle of reincarnation; of life and death. In the past, there were others: Valhalla, the Field of Reed." Her black eyes stared into his soul. Dasha stared back at death. "But, at the advent of the Great Conjunction, some souls enter a special tournament hosted by the gods. Blessing the people with magic and superpowers, all for the sake of getting a second life on Earth."

A second life. A second chance.

"Assuming I'm dead." Dasha tried to tap his feet and failed. From his peripheral, he double-checked his surroundings and did so without breaking eye contact. "How do I know this isn't a sham?"

"Utter the words 'open status', and see for yourself."

Dasha squinted at her. 'Status? What in the world is she talking about?'

But it didn't hurt to try. "Open status."

His jaw clenched. He tried not to show it but what appeared in the air, reflecting his vision, was an impossibility: a blue screen filled with text written in English. Something that couldn't possibly be real.

'Holographic technology of this scale does not exist yet. Even Hatsune Miku's holograms are done through the Pepper's Ghost illusion. It is not a real holograms, merely motion capture and a trick through a semi-transparent mirror made of Plexiglas. This is…'

The crushing realization that he really was dead hit him. The types of holograms shown in movies, the hologram projection directly in his face, was impossible for humanity to achieve. He estimated it would take another two or three decades.

How did he know this? Because in secret, he had already invented a hologram like this.

[ Status: Dasha Pang

Class: —

Level: 1

HP: 15

HP/Minute: 1.5

MP: 8

MP/Minute: 1.5

Attack: 7

Defence: 4

Attributes

Strength: 7

Resilience: 3

Agility: 7

Deftness: 50

Vitality: 3

Magical Might: 1

Magical Mending: 1

Distributive Points: 3 ]

He stared at the blue screen for a good ten seconds. His eyes scanned every inch of it. He couldn't raise his fingers to touch it but he wished he could.

'This light...is not light? I don't…' No, wait. If science didn't apply here, then he needed to turn his thinking around. 'No alert, no system installation…is this thing bound to my soul?'

Dasha tried to go into a thinking pose but failed. Supposing everything Azrael said was true, that had to be the case. Whatever this was, it wasn't technological. It was magical. Divine. Beyond human comprehension.

"If you wish to affirm your own identity, please say 'open profile'," Azrael supplied. Again, Dasha gave her a look before doing as she said.

"Open profile."

[ Profile

Name: Dasha Pang

HP: 15/15

MP: 8/8

Distributive Points: 3

Prize Points: 0

Age: 28

Class: —

Level: 1

XP to Next Level: 10 ]

'Experience points, HP, MP…everything is like a video game.'

Since high school, Dasha virtually stopped playing video games. The last time he touched a game controller was seven months ago for a university open event.

More importantly, besides his relatively limited knowledge on games, there was the pressing issue of movement, in that he didn't have it. He was stuck from the neck down, yet he hadn't tipped over nor were his muscles spasming.

Dasha's knowledge on drugs, elements, chemicals, and their effects were second to none. He had a masters degree in both biology and chemical engineering. He experimented and specialized in drugs and did so many experiments that he was without a doubt its leading expert in the modern age. From his understanding, something like this, selectively numbing bodily functions from the neck down, was almost unheard of.

Almost because he had invented drugs like this in his life. However, none of the formulas were written down. It was all stored in his brain. So did someone else accomplish what he did?

'No, impossible. No one is like me. I've talked to the best of the best and every single one of them were decades away from replicating what I could do. This…it must be magic.'

As those thoughts ran through his head, the chokehold disappeared. He could finally shift his legs.

Incredible. This was something science couldn't do. Dasha tried to facilitate a theory but it just didn't click. To make a human's brainwaves act as a signal to the lidocaine or any other anaesthesia was too ridiculous a concept. This had to be magic.

"You have accepted your death," said Azrael, nodding in approval. "Good."

Dasha narrowed his eyes, called out, "Status," and tried to touch the blue screen.

He sensed contact, sort of, like it was ghostly. A soft layer of gentle coldness. 'How strange…'

"You have accepted your predicament. Therefore, the lock on you was released."

"I'm guessing you do this for everyone?"

"Indeed. I am discussing the rules of the Heavenly Games with ten thousand other humans."

"At the same time?"

A nod. Dasha's brow deepened.

'Gods, angels, demons…I'm curious as to what kind of powers they possess.'

Azrael waited for him to take the revelation in. Dasha stroked his chin, mulling the ridiculous situation over for the second time, his eye switching from the status window to Azrael.

Dasha closed his eyes, thinking, and then opened them and gestured for Azrael to continue.

"The goal is to accrue as many points as possible. The more points a contestant collects, the more money you make—"

"Money?" Dasha repeated. "This is all for money?"

Azrael stared at him blankly. "Yes. This is a game."

Dasha crossed his legs and put a fist to his cheek. "So in exchange for death, we fight for money."

"Yes," Azrael replied.

"I doubt this death applies to all."

"Correct. Ten thousand will participate but only twenty shall be allowed to return. Summon prize pool."

Dasha remained unfazed even as he heard a bleep. A red screen appeared, different from the blue, and contained a wall of text.

[ Top 20-11: Climb the ladder to fame and claim your share of the treasure! Be among the Top 20 to receive staggering rewards from $1 million to a jaw-dropping $10 million USD!

Top 10-4: Ascend further up the ranks and unlock unimaginable wealth! Secure your spot in the Top 10 to seize from $100 million to an astounding $700 million USD!

Number 3: Reach the third position and grasp the grand prize of $800 million USD! But that's not all - this prestigious victor also gains the unparalleled power to obtain any material possession from history!

Number 2: Secure second place to claim an extraordinary reward of $900 million USD! Additionally, this winner acquires the ability to alter a single pivotal event from their past, unlocking the potential to change their own fate.

Number 1: Only one warrior shall stand at the summit, crowned as the ultimate champion! The champion will receive a staggering $1 billion USD, plus the previous two exclusive prizes. And, as an extraordinary gift, the gods offer a secret special prize - a wish that can shape reality itself! The victor may ask for anything their heart desires, as long as it maintains the cosmic balance. ]

Two things to note: one, there was a tone in the writing. Someone had specifically written this. Two, the prizes were ridiculous.

'Changing history? Getting a wish from the gods? Power like this exists?' While juggling with that thought, the right side of his brain crunched the numbers. 'The chances of reaching the top twenty is two percent. Better than the lottery.' 

"Who are the other contestants? Is there some sort of pattern?"

Dash required information. Judging from the blank expression of the woman in front of him, he would receive them.

"There is no pattern. Individuals are picked randomly throughout the globe." Azrael paused. She must have assumed he would raise an additional question. "To gain the points you desire, you must traverse a tower that leads to pages of mythology. Every week, a new gate, a new story, a new page will appear in the tower. Some will remain open. Some will close after a selected attempt. Others will simply end after the first. But at the end of the day, you must collect Prize Points through the Heavenly Tower and its gates. You must fight."

"Hence why they're in my status. They're important." He removed his fist from his cheek and crossed his arms, fingers drumming. "I understand."

"Good. The people who long for a second chance will do anything to achieve victory. However, to gain the nigh-omnipotent wish, that is a human's ultimate goal. Tell me, Dasha Pang, what is your wish?"

He turned quiet.

At the very mention of a wish, there was an idea in his mind. A dream that he wished he could have attained in life: to become the richest, most powerful, most influential man on Earth. A wise influent that would be able to stamp out any evil at any moment. That was Dasha Pang's wish.