Reconstructed!!

Prologue

Third Person POV

In a sterile, white hospital room, an old man lay on his deathbed. Time had carved its mark deep into his wrinkled face, and his frail body bore the unmistakable signs of a life worn down by decades of labor and loss. The quiet hum of machines filled the room, a monotonous reminder of how close he was to the end.

The man scanned his surroundings with weak, watery eyes. Beside him stood his son, daughter, and two young grandchildren, their faces etched with sadness. "John," the old man rasped, a faint smile tugging at his lips, "it's good to see you again, my boy."

His son, a broad-shouldered man in his late forties, returned the smile, though his voice wavered as he spoke. "It's good to see you too, Dad. How are you holding up?"

The old man let out a wheezing laugh, his body trembling from the effort. "Oh, you know… dying. HAHAHAHA!" His raspy laughter echoed through the room like an inappropriate joke at a funeral.

"Dad! Stop saying shit like that!" Caroline, the man's daughter, snapped, her voice trembling. She looked to be in her mid-thirties, her makeup failing to hide the tears already streaking her face.

The old man's eyes softened as he turned to her. "Caroline, honey, the doctors already told you, didn't they? My time's up. Most of my organs are shutting down, and I've got hours left—maybe less." His tone was calm, as if he were discussing the weather.

"No! There has to be something else! I heard about this treatment—some guy went through it and—" Caroline's voice broke, her words tumbling out in frantic desperation.

"Hush, child." The old man grabbed her trembling hand with surprising strength. "Listen to me." His voice carried a rare firmness. "I don't want some experimental crap that'll cost a fortune and give me an extra few months at best. That money should go to your kids. To their future."

"But Dad—"

"NO!" His voice cut through the room like a blade, silencing her protests. "This isn't about money. It's about life. I've lived mine, and I've been damn lucky, too. I got a good job, married the love of my life, and had you—my beautiful, stubborn daughter. I watched you grow, and now you've given me two wonderful grandkids. Your mother's gone, and it's my turn now. You've gotta let me go, Caroline."

Caroline's sobs filled the room, and even John looked away, trying to hide his tears. The grandchildren, too young to fully grasp the gravity of the moment, clung to their mother's legs in quiet confusion.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and red, John and Caroline gathered their children and left the hospital. The old man watched them go, a bittersweet smile on his lips. Alone now, he turned his gaze to the window and the dying light of the day. His heart swelled with peace. He had no regrets.

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First Person POV

As I watch the sunset from my bed, I feel… content. A rare feeling, but there it is. My daughter has her own family, and they're happy. That's all I could ever ask for. It fills me with a warmth I haven't felt in decades—since the day I met my wife… and the day Caroline was born.

A smile creeps across my face as I think about the past. The good times. The bad ones, too. My friends, my brothers-in-arms—they're all gone now. Cancer took the last of them ten years ago. My wife—God, I miss her—has been gone even longer. And now, it's just me. But that's okay. I've been here long enough. I've given my grandkids all the joy and warmth I had left. My time's up.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

The alarm on the heart monitor grows louder. The beeping quickens. I feel my body giving up, the last embers of life flickering out. The nurses and doctors rush in, their voices frantic, their hands working desperately.

But I don't care. I don't have the will—or the strength—to fight anymore. I let it happen. I let death take me, and I close my eyes, ready to embrace the darkness.

But then—what the fuck?

I open my eyes again, and I'm not in the hospital anymore. I'm lying on soft grass, the air fresh and cool. In the distance, towering mountains rise against a brilliant blue sky. Just ahead, on a hill, I see a tree. A lone, majestic tree that seems to call to me.

I get to my feet, my body feeling lighter than it has in decades. Hell, I feel young again. I start walking toward the tree, the surreal beauty of the landscape filling me with awe—and unease.

When I reach the hill, I see him. An old man with long white hair and a beard that could put Gandalf to shame. He sits beneath the tree, gazing out at the horizon like some wise old wizard from a fantasy novel.

"Beautiful view you've got here," I say, breaking the silence. "It's… calm. Peaceful."

The old man doesn't look at me, but he smiles. "Indeed. No matter how long I stare at it, it never gets old."

I sit down beside him, curiosity burning in my chest. "So, uh… are you God? Are you here to judge me or something? Because I gotta admit, I wasn't exactly the most religious guy. Hell, I was an atheist most of my life."

The old man chuckles, his voice rich and deep. "You may call me God if you wish. And no, you're not here to be judged. You're here because I chose you. Randomly, I might add."

"Chosen? For what?" My brows furrow as I try to make sense of his words.

He finally turns to me, his piercing eyes glinting with amusement. "What do you think is the greatest enemy of any immortal being?"

I blink, caught off guard. "Uh… true death?"

The old man laughs, shaking his head. "No, child. Boredom. Boredom is the greatest enemy of all. And I, unfortunately, am very bored."

Boredom? Fucking boredom? My jaw drops as I stare at him. "You've got to be kidding me."

"Oh, I assure you, I am not. You see, I've decided to spice things up a bit. Like an author writing a story, I want to see what happens when I throw you into a new world. A fresh start, as it were."

"You're serious?" I mutter, running a hand through my hair. "So, what? You're reincarnating me into some kind of fantasy world?"

"Exactly. You've heard of isekai, haven't you? Reincarnation, transmigration… that sort of thing." He takes a sip of tea from a cup that appears out of nowhere.

I stare at him in disbelief, my mind racing. "Alright… so, do I get, like, wishes or something?"

"Three. Choose wisely."

--

First Person POV

I stare at the old man—God—trying to process what he's just told me. "Alright… three wishes," I mutter, rubbing my temples. "This isn't exactly something you hear every day."

He chuckles, clearly amused by my hesitation. "Take your time, child. I've got all the patience in the universe."

I glance back at him. "Alright, let's get this straight. You're throwing me into some new world, right? Like one of those fantasy isekai stories?"

"Precisely."

"And I get to make three wishes. Any restrictions?"

"Hmm…" He strokes his majestic beard, considering. "No wishing to be omnipotent, omniscient, or immortal from the start. I like a good story with struggle and growth, you see. And no reincarnating as a character who's already beyond the limits of the world—like your earlier suggestion to be Saitama."

I wince. "Yeah, fair enough. That would get boring fast. Alright, give me a minute."

I think it over, running through every possibility I can imagine. Strength? Knowledge? Immortality? There's so much to consider. But deep down, I know what I really want.

"For my first wish," I begin, locking eyes with him, "I want the physiology and soul of Sanguinius."

The old man raises an eyebrow, clearly impressed. "Ah, the Angel of Baal. A fine choice. His physical traits and psychic gifts will certainly give you an edge, though I'll adjust his growth rate to match that of a normal human."

I nod, already anticipating the changes. "Fair enough. But let's make it six wings instead of two—why not go all out?"

He chuckles. "Done."

"For my second wish," I continue, "I want the powers and technological knowledge of Malcador the Sigillite."

His smile grows wider. "A wise choice indeed. However, I'll grant you Malcador's psychic power as a foundation. It will grow alongside your own latent gifts, blending naturally with your soul. As for the knowledge of Standard Template Constructs, you'll gain it in pieces—monthly revelations, shall we say. That should keep things interesting."

"Fine by me." I pause, hesitating before voicing my third and final wish. "For my last wish…" My voice softens. "I want the souls of my wife and my two best friends to accompany me."

The old man tilts his head, surprised but not displeased. "An unusual request, but a touching one. I expected you to wish for more power or riches."

"I've had all the power and wealth I need in my first life," I say quietly. "What I want now is the people who made it worth living."

He nods, his gaze warm. "Very well." With a wave of his hand, three glowing orbs materialize in the air, each pulsing with a faint golden light. "Here are their souls, complete with their memories. Consider it my gift to you."

Tears well up in my eyes as I bow deeply, overwhelmed by gratitude. "Thank you… thank you so much."

"No need for all the dramatics, child." He waves me off, though his smile remains. "Now, it's time for you to begin your journey."

Before I can say another word, the ground beneath me shifts. The world around us blurs, and I feel myself being pulled into a swirling cosmic vortex.

"Wait! What's the world like? What kind of—"

"Good luck, child!" the old man calls out, his voice fading as I'm sucked into the portal. "And make it entertaining!"

The last thing I see is his smiling face before everything goes dark.

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