Kael awoke to a world unlike any he had ever known, a place where the air crackled with energy, and the very fabric of reality seemed stretched thin. He was not dead—at least, not entirely—but neither was he alive in any sense he understood. He stood in a vast, otherworldly chamber, where the sky bled colors that had no names, and the ground beneath his feet shifted like sand.
Before him loomed a figure, tall and forbidding, with wings of brilliant silver that shimmered with an eerie light. His armor, wrought of some ancient, indestructible metal, bore the marks of a thousand battles, each scar a story untold. The angel's face was stern, chiseled from marble, his eyes cold and piercing as they bore into Kael's soul.
"You have erred grievously," the angel intoned, his voice resonant and deep, echoing through the strange, endless expanse. "You are not meant to be here."
Kael blinked, trying to gather his wits, but his thoughts were scattered, as if still caught in the violent moment that had ripped him from his world. He remembered the truck, the sickening crunch, and the cold certainty that he was about to die. And yet, here he stood.
"Where am I?" Kael asked, his voice rough, as if it had been years since he last spoke. "Who are you?"
The angel's gaze hardened, a flicker of something like frustration crossing his stern features. "I am Justiciar Maltael, keeper of the balance between life and death, arbiter of fate. And you, Kael von Thurad, have disrupted the weave of destiny."
Kael's heart pounded as the memories began to piece themselves together. His juniors, Jean and Andrea—their faces flashed before his eyes. He had pushed them out of the way, taken the blow that was meant for them. "I… I saved them. They were going to die, and I saved them."
Maltael's expression remained impassive, though his eyes seemed to narrow with a touch of displeasure. "Yes, you saved them, but at what cost? You meddled in the threads of fate, threads that were not yours to alter. Because of your interference, you now stand in a place between worlds, a space meant only for those whose time has come."
Kael felt a cold dread settling in his gut as he struggled to understand. "But if I wasn't meant to die, why am I here? What happens to me now?"
Maltael's wings rustled, casting long shadows that danced across the shifting light. "Your juniors were fated to embark on a journey far from the world you knew. Their deaths would have been a necessary passage to another realm, where they would fulfill a destiny greater than you could comprehend. Yet your interference delayed their departure, and in your place, they were taken by another means."
Kael's mind reeled. "So, they're gone? Without me?"
"Yes," Maltael replied, his voice laced with the weight of inevitability. "Their journey continues, as it must. But you, Kael, are now an anomaly, a soul untethered from its mortal coil before its time. The life you were meant to live has been torn from you."
Kael swallowed, the enormity of his actions pressing down on him like a vice. "And what happens to me now?"
The angel's gaze grew colder, more distant. "The years of life that were yours by right have been converted into something else—points, a currency that you may use to barter for survival in the world you are about to enter. One hundred points, a reflection of the life you should have lived."
"Points?" Kael echoed, the concept foreign and strange. "What can I do with them?"
Maltael's wings folded close, as if shielding himself from the harsh truth of what he was about to say. "You will be sent to a world at war, a place where angels and demons wage a battle that has raged for eons. Your juniors, Jean and Andrea, have been thrust into this conflict, and they will play a role foretold by prophecy. But you, Kael, are to be exiled to a far corner of this world, a place called Homer, where your presence will not disrupt the balance further."
Kael's throat tightened as he struggled to comprehend. "Exiled… for trying to save them?"
Before Maltael could answer, a shadow fell over the chamber, and a second figure materialized from the swirling ether. This angel was darker, more severe, his wings black as night and edged with a faint, sinister glow. His armor was scarred, each mark a testament to battles fought and won, and his eyes were hard as iron.
"Maltael," the new arrival's voice was harsh, like the grinding of millstones, "you speak too freely. The balance is delicate, and this mortal is not to know more than is necessary."
Maltael inclined his head, though his expression was tinged with reluctance. "Justiciar Anders, I was merely ensuring he understood the gravity of his situation."
Anders turned his steely gaze on Kael, his presence like a cold wind cutting through the otherworldly warmth. "Kael von Thurad, you have already disrupted the natural order once. You should count yourself fortunate to be granted even this chance. The points you have been given are all that stand between you and oblivion. Use them wisely, but know this: you are not to meddle further in the fate of your juniors. Their path is theirs to walk, not yours."
Kael felt a chill seep into his bones as he realized the full extent of his predicament. "I understand," he managed, though the words felt hollow in his mouth.
Maltael's expression softened, but only just. "Kael, you will be sent to unknown land in Homer, where you must live out the remainder of your days in silence. You are not to interfere with the prophecy, not to seek out your juniors. Their fate is their own, and yours is now sealed."
Suddenly before him floated an ethereal scroll, vast and ancient, its parchment shimmering with a light that seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere at once. The scroll unraveled in the air, revealing an endless list of options, each written in a script that was both familiar and alien. Weapons, armor, skills, abilities, items—each one more fantastical than the last, each one imbued with the promise of power. But as Kael's eyes skimmed over the list, a cold realization settled over him: nearly everything was far beyond his reach.
The numbers next to each item were astronomical, prices that made his meager 100 points seem like a cruel joke. A sword that could cleave mountains, a shield that could deflect the fury of a dragon's breath, a cloak that rendered its wearer invisible to all sight—these were relics of legend, and they required more points than Kael could ever hope to gather. Even the more modest offerings—a simple blade enchanted with fire, a pair of boots that granted swift movement—were beyond his means.
Frustration gnawed at him as he scrolled through the endless options, his mind racing. How was he supposed to survive in this new world with so little? He had to choose wisely, but the choices felt impossibly difficult. Every decision seemed to carry the weight of his entire future, and yet the point values next to each option mocked him, reminding him of the limitations imposed by his untimely death.
Behind him, Justiciar Anders stood with his arms crossed, his expression growing darker by the moment. The angel's patience, never abundant to begin with, was wearing thin. His wings twitched in irritation, and his cold, iron gaze bored into the back of Kael's head like a dagger.
"Hurry up, mortal," Anders growled, his voice as sharp as a winter wind. "You waste time on trivialities. Your fate is sealed, no matter what you choose here. These points are a mercy, nothing more. Make your decisions, or I shall make them for you."
Kael's hand hesitated over the scroll, his heart pounding in his chest. He knew the angel was right, in a way—his situation was dire, and he didn't have the luxury of time. But something inside him resisted the idea of rushing through this choice. This was his one chance, the last thing that might give him some measure of control over the fate that had been thrust upon him.
"I'm trying to choose wisely," Kael muttered, though he knew it was a weak excuse. The truth was, he felt overwhelmed, as if every option on the scroll was a test he was bound to fail. "I just need a moment…"
Anders' wings flared out, his impatience clear. "Wisdom has nothing to do with it, mortal. You are nothing but a speck in the grand design, a flicker of light soon to be snuffed out. Take your pitiful points and be done with it."
Kael's eyes flicked over the scroll one last time, his heart heavy with the bitter taste of compromise. The survival talent he had chosen lingered on the edge of his thoughts, a cold reminder of his limitations. He was an architect, a man of vision and creation, yet here he was, reduced to scraping together the barest means of survival. It was a cruel twist of fate, and it gnawed at him like a splinter in his mind.
Just as he was about to resign himself to this meager choice, something caught his eye—a small, unassuming entry near the bottom of the list. The words were simple, almost plain, but they held a strange allure: "Empty Lot". Kael's breath caught in his throat as he read the description.
The item was an enigma, a blank canvas upon which anything could be built. "An empty lot that can grow into a home based on the imagination of the owner," it read. There was no mention of limits, no ceiling to what it could become. The possibilities unfurled before Kael like a sunrise over an endless horizon, each ray of light a new idea, a new creation waiting to be born.
For the first time since he had found himself in this strange purgatory, Kael felt a spark of something other than dread. Excitement, hope—these emotions surged within him, stirring memories of long nights spent poring over blueprints, of buildings rising from the earth in his mind before they ever took form in the real world. As an architect, Kael had always understood the power of imagination, the boundless potential that lay within the mind's eye. And now, here it was—his chance to build, to create, to make something truly his own.
But there was a catch, as there always was. The cost of the "Empty Lot" was exactly 100 points, the entirety of what he had been given. If he chose this, there would be nothing left for weapons, armor, skills—nothing to protect him in the harsh world he was about to enter. It would be a gamble, a leap of faith into the unknown. The practical side of him, the part that had spent decades in the rigid confines of reality, urged caution. But another part of him, the part that had always yearned to create something extraordinary, urged him to take the risk.
Kael's eyes lingered on the words, his mind racing with possibilities. What could he build? A fortress, a home, a sanctuary? Something more? The potential was limitless, constrained only by the strength of his imagination. And Kael knew, deep down, that his imagination had never failed him before.
Anders, who had been pacing impatiently, sensed the shift in Kael's demeanor. The angel's eyes narrowed as he glanced at the scroll, his expression growing more irritated by the second. "What now, mortal? Have you found yet another way to squander your time?"
Kael ignored the sneer in Anders' voice, his focus entirely on the decision before him. His heart beat faster as he considered the weight of the choice. The survival talent was a safe bet, something that would keep him alive in the immediate future. But the "Empty Lot"… it was a dream, a hope, a chance to build something far greater than mere survival.
"Are you going to choose, or shall I choose for you?" Anders snapped, his patience finally at its end.
Kael didn't hesitate any longer. He knew what he had to do. "I'll take the Empty Lot," he said, his voice steady with conviction.
Anders paused, his wings twitching slightly as he processed the decision. "The Empty Lot?" The angel's tone was incredulous, as if he couldn't believe Kael would waste his points on something so seemingly trivial. "You forfeit everything else, for that?"
Kael nodded, his mind already whirling with ideas, plans, designs. He could see it, the possibilities unfurling before him like a great tapestry, each thread a potential future. "Yes. I choose the Empty Lot."
Anders stared at him for a long moment, a mixture of disdain and something almost like pity in his gaze. But he said nothing more. With a flick of his hand, the angel sealed the deal, and the scroll vanished, taking with it all the other choices Kael might have made.
The lot was his now, and with it, a spark of hope in a world that had seemed utterly devoid of it. Kael knew the risks, knew that he was stepping into an unknown world with no weapon, no armor, no skills to his name. But he had something far more valuable: the power to create, to build, to shape the world around him.