When Alden opened his eyes, he was sinking.
His first instinct was to swim, to resist the pull dragging him downward. But the attempt was futile. He couldn't move—not his limbs, not even his chest to breathe. The absence of air entering his lungs, the numbness overtaking his senses, all felt alien.
Yet he wasn't dying. At least, not in any way he could understand since he was still very much capable of thought.
Resigned, he let himself drift deeper into the abyss.
The world around him was darkness—an endless void, devoid of light or substance.
Strangely, being bound and swallowed by the darkness wasn't frightening. Rather, Alden felt very comfortable. Like being swaddled in a warm, perfectly weighted blanket. Whatever this was, it wasn't unpleasant.
'So this is death.' Alden thought to himself. To him, it felt more foreign than terrifying, more curious than tragic.
Yes, he swiftly acknowledged his death.
Years of training had taught him to expect the worst in any situation, and the fresh memory of being crushed by a truck left no doubt. He remembered the excruciating pain, his bones breaking one by one, and the agonizing clarity as adrenaline stretched each second into eternity.
If he were to survive the accident somehow and is currently in some state of comatose, it would be a nice surprise. He still has things to do in the world of the living.
What will happen to his family? Will his mother's mental state crumble further? Or will it stay the same?
What happened to Jon and the driver who was with him in the accident?
What happened to the partner Alden was supposed to meet prior to the crash? Will he feel disrespected because of Alden's late arrival? What expression will he make when he hears news that Alden will never arrive then? Alden could only assume it would be hilarious.
He chuckled inwardly at the thoughts turning absurd.
Eventually, he felt himself gently settle onto something solid. The ground beneath him was smooth and inviting, as if designed to lull him further into stillness.
Still, his mind was awake. Whether it was the childish curiosity to explore the foreign surroundings or worries about the matters of the living.
There was a lot to think about. All questions that he will never know the answer to.
So, he simply lay. Prisoner of his own though, trapped in a cozy bed. Ironically, it was not too much different from his usual Sunday afternoon.
Just as Alden was feeling a bit bored, a change in the environment occurred.
As if a sun had suddenly manifested, the never-ending darkness was abruptly replaced by blinding, perpetual light that caught Alden by surprise.
Alden could only thank the heavens he couldn't move his body. Lying completely still was the only reason he wasn't subjected to an even harsher degree of flashbang. Alden could tell the light was coming from somewhere to his right— His mind was already stunned, if he had the misfortune of turning his head, it would have been unbearable.
Just as abruptly as it appeared, the light quickly receded until it dimmed to the softness of a night lamp, once again making the environment cozy.
Before Alden could probably react, the light moved toward him, until 'it' came within his view.
"Did I wake you up?"
Looking down at Alden stood a strange 'boy'.
From Alden's point of view, the boy wore crude, old-fashioned leather armor, the kind one might see in depictions of the Middle Ages. Beneath it was an ocean-blue long-sleeved shirt, oversized enough to extend slightly past his wrists. It was clearly a size too large for him.
Then there was his face. The boy had a playful smirk, yellow hair that shone like gold, and a lean, sharp face, but the fullness of his cheeks and the smoothness of his skin divulged his age. Strangest of all was the thick white cloth wrapped around his eyes, entirely obscuring them. And yet, Alden felt as though there was a piercing gaze beneath it, sharp and mischievous, making him a bit uneasy.
All in all, the boy was rather cute, like a child model in cosplay. If Alden had been able to move, he might have patted his head and squished his cheek a little. But given that this strange being was literally radiating light, Alden decided that might not have been a wise choice anyway.
"You're making me blush," the boy laughed heartily in a way a bit too mature for his look, clearly not blushing in the slightest. "You have a very interesting way of describing a god."
The boy's absurd words disrupted Alden's thoughts. but it was just for a brief moment before Alden swiftly accepted the words as facts.
"Not surprised?" the boy asked, raising an eyebrow.
Not really. While encountering a god was certainly not an ordinary event, Alden felt that the boy's claim made sense. He hadn't even spoken a word since the boy's arrival, and yet this 'boy' had responded perfectly to his internal musings. Combined with the radiating light and the way the boy moved freely in a space where Alden couldn't even twitch, clearly placed him in a superior position.
Whatever this situation was, it wasn't bound by normal logic and beyond his understanding. So if the boy in front of him declared himself a god, Alden would accept it. If he declared himself a dog, Alden would've accepted that too.
The boy god's smirk twitched before he let out a chuckle. "I think I should smite you a bit to prove I'm a god. Don't you think so?"
It wasn't necessary, he'd already accepted the claim.
"What an annoying brat," the boy's chuckles widened. "My name is Asta, the God of Adventure. You are dead, and I'm here to enact your judgment."
Alden internally sighed at the confirmation of his death. It wasn't a surprise.
"As expected, a bland response even in the face of death. I did a bit of reading on your life on my way here. You are quite interesting for all the wrong reasons."
In Asta's hand, a scroll materialized, and with a casual motion, he unfurled it. His voice rang clear as he read its contents.
"Alden Vaughn, 21 years old. The only child of Hila and Alex Vaughn. Born as an heir in your world. First walked at age 1, read at age 5, rode a bicycle at age 6, oh! Unicycled at 10? Bla bla bla. Where's the summary?"
Alden was amused. Other than the fact that the supposed 'god' was actually lazily looking for the summary, the heavens actually use such a primitive system as written records? The logistics must be a nightmare, have they heard of technology integration?
"Tsk, what's wrong with the primitive ways?" Asta swiftly reacted, casually skipping over any mention of his laziness. "Your thoughts are insufferably loud. If you have something to say, use your voice."
To his casual command, Alden's entire reality shook violently. His vision blurred, and his thoughts felt scattered. When his condition stabilized, he realized, to his astonishment, that he could now move. His paralysis was gone.
"Ah, here it is," Asta said, ignoring Alden's shock as he continued. "Overall, very blessed compared to the majority of your world's population. Good background, good intelligence, and good physique potential. But that's about all. All that potential is wasted."
Alden, in the process of sitting up, froze momentarily at the words.
"There's nothing remarkable about you. In fact, I'd even say you're even less than others. At least they have a semblance of personality." Asta spoke indifferently. "At the date of your death, your favorite food is [blank]. Favorite color? [blank]. Noticeable hobbies? [blank]..."
Alden frowned. He was in disbelief at how this lazy god that skipped over his entire life suddenly is so hardworking at criticizing him now. However, he was in no position to rebut a god as Asta continued. Painfully, the list goes on for a while, describing Alden's existence with [blank] everywhere.
"... most noticeable connection [blank], worst regret [blank], most prized possession is [blank], and lastly, your dream or goal is also an empty [blank]."
As if on cue, the scroll in Asta's hand ignited with an ethereal golden flame at the end of his sentence, disintegrating into nothingness after fulfilling its purpose of recounting Alden's life. Unfazed by the phenomenon, Asta stood silently, his gaze fixed on the now-quiet Alden.
Of course, the god saved the best for last, his words effortlessly exposing Alden's most deeply buried secret.
Those close to Alden believed his driving force was his family, and for a time, that may have been true. Yet, in recent years, the autonomy of his life eroded his spirit and strained his relationships. By now, he had long accepted his fate as a means for an end and nothing more, growing indifferent to most aspects of life, even family.
Even in death, Alden's thoughts about his family were infinitely closer to curiosity than compassion and grief.
Regarding Asta's words that borderline insults, Alden wanted to be mad, but it is hard to be mad at the truth. Especially now that he is already dead. The current Alden is a bland person, his life is as empty as a room without any furniture, and there is nothing more to talk about.
"No rebuttal? I expected that much." After a while, Asta finally spoke. His tone no longer carried any mischief or playfulness, replaced by an oppressive cold indifference unbefitting of the innocent image. "I will now pass my judgment."
"You, Alden Vaughn, are the kind of existence I hated the most. Your life holds no meaning. Your life is not of a human but a mere puppet. You do not want life, so in the name of Asta, your right to exist is hereby revoked."