Steven was a man of routine. His life, while not glamorous, had been one of quiet contentment. He'd worked the same job for nearly ten years, sitting at his desk in a cramped office, entering data for hours on end. He never complained. It was a steady job, and it paid the bills. He didn't have many friends, but the few he kept close were loyal, and his family, though distant, cared for him in their own way. He never married, nor did he have children, but he figured there would be time for that later. There was always more time, or so he thought.
The day it all changed was ordinary. Just like any other. It was raining lightly when Steven left the office, his jacket pulled tight against the cold drizzle. His breath misted as he walked to his car, and he vaguely remembered that he needed to get it serviced—maybe tomorrow, he thought, as he always did. But that tomorrow never came.
The accident was sudden. He didn't even see it coming. A truck, out of nowhere, ran a red light, plowing into the driver's side of his small sedan. Metal crunched and twisted, the sound mingling with the screech of tires and the shattering of glass. Steven didn't have time to scream. His body was thrown against the door, pain exploding in his chest as the world turned upside down.
Then, everything went black.
When Steven opened his eyes, he was no longer in his car. There was no rain, no wreckage, no blood. Instead, he found himself standing in a vast, open space—endless, stretching into infinity. The ground beneath him was an unsettling white, like polished marble, but it didn't reflect light. There was no horizon, no sky, just emptiness. The air was neither hot nor cold; it was simply... nothing.
And then, a voice spoke.
"Steven."
The sound was deep and resonant, coming from everywhere at once. Steven turned, but saw no one. His heart pounded in his chest, or at least he thought it did. He wasn't sure if he still had a body in this strange place.
"Where... where am I?" Steven asked, his voice shaky, a far cry from the confident tone he used when dealing with clients at work.
"You're dead."
The words hung in the air like a cold wind. Dead. The last thing Steven remembered was the truck barreling toward him. He'd been sure he was about to die, but hearing it said out loud made it real.
"Is this... the afterlife?" he asked, glancing around at the barren landscape.
"Something like that," the voice responded. "You've met an unfortunate end, Steven. But your story doesn't have to be over."
Suddenly, the space around him shifted. From the emptiness emerged a figure—a tall man, draped in flowing robes of dark fabric, his face obscured by shadows. He seemed to glide rather than walk, his presence dominating the space, though he appeared calm, almost regal.
"I am what you might call a god," the figure said, his tone matter-of-fact. "And I'm here to offer you a choice."
Steven blinked, struggling to comprehend the situation. "A choice?"
The god nodded. "You died too soon, Steven. There are things left unfinished in your life, and I am inclined to give you another chance. But it won't be free."
Steven narrowed his eyes. "What kind of chance?"
The god smiled, though it was not a kind smile. "You will enter a place—a company, if you will—where your survival will be tested. It is known as the Lethal Company. Your task is to complete a three-month contract with this company. Thirty quotas, each one more dangerous than the last. Survive, complete the quotas, and you will be allowed to live again. Fail, and you will return here... to your purgatory."
Steven's mouth went dry. "And what does this company do exactly?"
"You'll find out soon enough," the god replied, his voice calm, though there was an underlying tone of amusement. "It won't be easy. The creatures you'll face are unlike anything you've ever known. Some will hunt you, others will deceive you, but all of them will want you dead."
Steven felt a chill creep down his spine. "And if I fail?"
The god's smile faded. "If you fail, you'll remain in purgatory. Forever."
Steven swallowed hard. He didn't know what this 'purgatory' entailed, but it didn't sound appealing. A vague sense of dread washed over him, and he could feel the weight of the choice pressing down on him like a physical burden. It sounded impossible—thirty quotas? Monsters? Survival? He was just an ordinary man, not a hero, not a fighter.
"Why me?" Steven asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Because you're not finished yet," the god said, stepping closer, his form looming over Steven like a shadow. "And because you have potential. You may not see it now, but you will. If you survive."
The words hung in the air, thick with meaning. Steven looked up at the figure, his mind racing. He thought about his life, the things he hadn't done, the regrets that lingered in the back of his mind. It wasn't a perfect life, but it was his, and he wasn't ready to give it up. Not yet.
"I can come back? For real?" Steven asked, hope creeping into his voice.
"Yes," the god replied. "Complete the contract, and you will return to the world of the living. Fail, and you will never leave purgatory."
Steven's heart pounded in his chest. The stakes were high—impossibly high. But what choice did he have? He couldn't imagine spending eternity in this empty void, alone and forgotten. The idea of fighting monsters terrified him, but so did the thought of never seeing the world again, never feeling the sun on his face, never having another chance at life.
"What do you say, Steven?" the god asked, his voice like silk, smooth and persuasive. "Will you take the offer?"
Steven's mind whirled. Was he really about to agree to this madness? Could he even survive something like that?
He hesitated, the decision hanging in the balance. On one hand, there was the promise of life, of redemption. On the other, an eternity of nothingness, a fate worse than death itself.
His hands clenched into fists, the weight of his decision settling on his shoulders like a heavy cloak. This was it. The moment that would decide his future.
He took a deep breath, his gaze locking with the god's shadowed eyes.
"I—"