Clay Klient trudged through the sterile, fluorescent-lit hallway of his office building, his shoulders weighed down by exhaustion and the suffocating monotony of corporate life. His tie hung loosely around his neck, and the sleeves of his wrinkled shirt were rolled up past his elbows. Another sixteen-hour day had drained every ounce of energy from him. All he wanted now was to drown the frustrations of work in the familiar burn of whiskey.
As he passed by the breakroom, a sudden flash of color caught his eye—golden hair shimmering under the harsh lights. A woman stood by the coffee machine, her profile delicate yet commanding. She was new, he realized. Clay couldn't recall seeing her before, and someone that striking wasn't easily forgotten.
She turned slightly, offering a brief smile to a passing coworker. For a moment, Clay forgot the deadlines, the emails, and even the incessant ache in his lower back. The weight of his miserable routine lightened just a little. He didn't even know her name, yet she lingered in his thoughts like a song he couldn't shake.
"Get a grip, Clay," he muttered under his breath, shaking his head as he made his way to the exit. The city awaited—cold, indifferent, and filled with the dull hum of endless traffic.
The bar was dimly lit and sparsely populated, the perfect refuge for someone seeking anonymity. Clay nursed his third drink, the amber liquid swirling in his glass as he stared blankly at the counter. The woman from the office haunted his thoughts. Who was she? Why had just a glimpse of her made such an impression on him?
He took another long sip, the alcohol numbing his senses. Time blurred as he lost himself in the haze of liquor and regret. His life had become a predictable cycle—work, drink, sleep, repeat. Dreams of success and fulfillment had long since faded, replaced by the harsh reality of unmet expectations.
"I didn't sign up for this," he mumbled to himself, slamming the empty glass onto the counter. The bartender shot him a wary glance but said nothing.
Clay stumbled out of the bar into the cool night air. The streets were eerily quiet, save for the occasional whoosh of passing cars. He walked without purpose, the alcohol muddling his sense of direction. Streetlights cast long shadows on the pavement, and the world around him seemed to tilt and sway.
Then he heard it—the low rumble of an engine. Clay turned his head just in time to see a blinding pair of headlights hurtling toward him.
Time slowed.
His mind, dulled by drink, struggled to process what was happening. Panic surged through him, but his limbs refused to move. The truck bore down on him, unstoppable and merciless.
"So this is how it ends," he thought bitterly. Not with a triumphant achievement or a meaningful farewell, but with a drunken misstep.
Impact.
Pain exploded through his body, sharp and all-consuming, before everything went dark.
When Clay opened his eyes, he was no longer on the cold asphalt of the city street. Instead, he found himself standing in an ethereal expanse bathed in soft golden light. The air was warm and soothing, carrying the faint scent of wildflowers.
"Welcome, Clay Klient," a gentle yet authoritative voice greeted him.
He turned to see a woman standing before him—tall, radiant, and otherworldly. Her silver hair flowed like liquid moonlight, and her eyes sparkled with ancient wisdom. She exuded a serene power that made Clay feel both awed and humbled.
"Who… who are you?" he managed to croak.
"I am Faith," she said with a smile. "A goddess and guide to those who find themselves at life's crossroads. You have died, Clay. But this is not the end—unless you wish it to be."
Clay's heart raced. Dead? The word echoed in his mind, surreal and impossible. Yet, here he was, standing in a place that defied logic.
"You have a choice," Faith continued. "You may remain here, in peace and serenity, or you may choose to reincarnate and live again."
Clay swallowed hard. Images of his unremarkable life flashed before him—the endless reports, the lonely nights, the woman whose smile had stirred something within him. He had achieved nothing, left no mark on the world. Was this really how it was supposed to end?
"I… I want another chance," he said firmly. "I can't go out like this. I need to do something with my life—to be someone."
Faith's smile widened. "Very well. Your resolve is commendable, Clay Klient. But be warned—the world you are about to enter is dangerous and unforgiving. Yet, it holds great opportunities for those brave enough to seize them."
Before he could respond, a blinding light enveloped him. The warmth of Faith's presence faded, replaced by the cool, earthy scent of vegetation.
When the light dimmed, Clay found himself lying on the ground, surrounded by towering trees and dense foliage. The air was thick with humidity, and the distant roars of unknown beasts echoed through the jungle.
He sat up, heart pounding. His senses were sharper than ever, every sound and scent amplified. A strange warmth pulsed through his body, and instinctively, he knew—this was not the same weak, tired body he'd lived in before.
A glowing panel appeared before his eyes, filled with strange symbols and text.
[Welcome to the New World]
[Skills Granted: Appraiser, Domination]
Clay took a shaky breath. "Well," he muttered to himself, "looks like I'm not in Kansas anymore."