The grinding of massive gears echoed through the endless void. The rhythmic clanking of ancient cogs sent vibrations through the air, a mechanical symphony of order and inevitability. The golden conveyor belt, stretching infinitely into the distance, creaked as it carried countless orbs—souls of the departed—toward their unknown fates.
Ethereal beings, humanoid in form but distinctly otherworldly, hovered above the belt. Their forms shimmered like mirages, each adorned with vast wings—some pristine white, others deep black. They moved with silent efficiency, their celestial gazes fixed upon their task: sorting the souls.
The orbs varied in size and brightness. Some were small, their tiny specks of light flickering weakly. Others were larger, glowing with a steady blue hue. With gentle, deliberate motions, the winged beings guided these souls toward one of three colossal portals at the end of the belt.
One portal shone with an overwhelming divine brilliance, its radiance so pure that even the strongest souls trembled in its presence.
Another depicted a world of soaring winds and vast oceans, a place that exuded life and endless cycles of rebirth.
The last portal pulsed with scorching heat, its very presence causing the conveyor belt to shimmer like metal left too long in the sun. The scent of burning—not of flesh, but of something deeper, more spiritual—drifted from within.
A particularly large soul, five times the size of an average one, drifted along the conveyor belt. Its blinding white glow illuminated everything around it, marking it as something extraordinary.
"I'm guessing that's hell," the soul mused, watching the flaming portal. "I can still think?… that's a hero's soul for you. God-given powers truly are miraculous."
But then, its glow flickered as a new thought surfaced.
"I don't want to reincarnate again. I just want to rest, haven't i suffered enough? 4 terms, 4 lives as a hero, isn't that enough?… ahhh....I just want to go to heaven."
A booming voice interrupted its thoughts.
"Hmph these fledgling heroic souls, always complaining"
The white soul flinched. Something even larger—something even brighter—was beside it. A colossal golden soul, radiating a light so pure it rivaled the heavenly portal itself, floated with an air of pride.
The white soul hesitated. "You… you can hear me?"
The golden soul chuckled, its glow pulsing like a heartbeat.
"We are heroic souls young one. Fated to be heroes, Anything is possible with God-given powers."
The white soul narrowed its glow. "But aren't you using a skill? How can a soul use a skill to communicate? I thought all our abilities perished with our bodies?"
The conveyor belt clanked, drawing them ever closer to their fates.
"I am an old heroic, i have completed almost 27 terms as a hero, all 27 worlds saved" the golden soul said, its voice carrying both wisdom and weariness. "My terms of reincarnation are over. My existence as a mortal is finished. But because of that, my essence retains fragments of power."
The white soul dimmed slightly in thought. "So you're… a Grand Hero?"
"Hah. Compared to you? Of course." The golden soul chuckled. "You're still a fledgling, aren't you?"
The white soul hesitated before admitting, "This is my fourth reincarnation. I , i failed my first world and last 2 weren't so great even though i saved them, i have to restart with no memories again, how is thaf fair grand hero, my loved ones will die again, while i will retain no memories of them after reincarnation. "
"Only three then? Thats the sacrifice a hero has to make little one, for god, for the fate of the world you reincarnate to" The golden soul scoffed.
"I'm already fed up." The white soul sighed, its glow flickering in exhaustion. "In my last life, I saved my world… but only half of it. The demons wiped out the rest before I could stop them. I don't want to go through that again."
The golden soul hummed thoughtfully. The conveyor belt creaked, drawing them ever closer to the divine portal.
"Blasphemous," the golden soul finally said. "I myself pleaded with the gods for another chance, but alas, they refused. Now, I ascend to heaven, never to return. What I wouldn't give to have your opportunity."
The white soul stirred uneasily. "But Grand Hero… aren't you fed up?"
"Hah. No true hero ever tires of duty."
The white soul wavered. "I don't want to reincarnate again…"
"Alright, fledgling," the golden soul said suddenly, "how about this? I'll offer you a proposition."
The white soul perked up.
"I have a transformation ability." The golden soul's light pulsed, shifting slightly. "I can switch our appearances. You become me, and I become you. You ascend to heaven while I reincarnate in your place."
The conveyor belt groaned as the portals loomed closer. Time was running out.
"You would do that for me, Grand Hero?"
"Yes, young one., i have heard your story, as a old hero, i want to give you this chance at happiness, the least this weary soul can do" The golden soul's voice was gentle, almost fatherly. "Utter the word 'Change,' and our deal will be fulfilled."
The white soul pulsed with gratitude. "How can I ever thank you? …Change."
In an instant, their forms twisted and shifted.
The blinding golden soul shrank, dimming into a soft white light, while the white soul expanded, its glow turning into a dazzling golden radiance.
Just as the newly transformed "golden" soul basked in the thought of heavenly ascension, the conveyor belt jerked violently.
The white-winged beings pushed it forward—not toward the divine portal, but toward the blazing inferno.
"What? No… NO!"
The soul's scream tore through the void as it was flung toward Hell.
Meanwhile, the "white" soul—now glowing with soft, pure light—watched with amusement as it neared the reincarnation portal.
Its glow flickered. Then it shifted—slowly, wickedly.
The golden light dissolved, revealing its true form: a massive purple soul, dark and crackling with malice.
A low, sinister chuckle echoed across the conveyor belt.
"Heroes… are always so gullible."
The last thing it heard before being reborn was the desperate, distant scream of the fooled hero.Crying. Loud, shrill, and piercing.
The room was old and damp, its wooden walls swollen with moisture. The scent of wet wood and melted candle wax lingered in the air, mixing with the faint metallic tang of blood. Diane lay atop a worn wooden table, its surface uneven and splintered from years of neglect. Flickering candlelight cast long, dancing shadows across the walls, their glow barely rivaled by the weak light seeping through the cracked window.
Outside, the distant hum of the city's restless night barely reached the small chamber. But inside, the only sounds were heavy, labored breaths and the occasional creak of wood as the woman on the table writhed in pain.
"Why did you have to get pregnant, Diane?" a weary, aged voice broke through the silence. Janice, an old midwife with graying hair and tired eyes, stood beside her, hands trembling as she wiped sweat from the fiery-haired woman's brow. "That bastard of a noble didn't even come to visit… And yet, you still insist on birthing this child?"
Diane's lips curled into a weak smile, her emerald eyes dull with exhaustion. "Don't scold him, Madam Janice… He didn't want the baby anyway…"
Her words came out in whispers, barely audible over the howling wind outside. Another sharp pain surged through her body, and she gritted her teeth, her nails digging into the rotting wood beneath her.
Then, after a final, guttural scream— a new sound filled the air.
The cry of a newborn echoed through the small room, raw and piercing, cutting through the oppressive silence like a blade.
Janice exhaled sharply, lifting the blood-slick child into the dim light. "It's a boy… His hair is just as fierce as yours, Diane." She turned to the mother, expecting to see her smiling at her newborn son.
Instead, the woman's face was slack, her once-bright eyes lifeless.
"…Janice?"
No response.
"…Janice… No. No, no, no…!"
The old woman's breath hitched as she reached out, shaking Diane's limp body. But there was no warmth left. The fire-haired woman, so full of life mere moments ago, had been extinguished.
Janice shut her eyes, suppressing the wave of grief clawing at her throat. "You held out for as long as you could, my dear… I only hope the heavens treat you better than this cruel world ever did."
She turned to the wailing child, her weathered hands cradling him gently. "And you…" She exhaled, her voice soft but heavy. "Welcome to this sad world, Theon… Your new home—the Cormi Red Light District."
The baby's screams echoed through the room.
But inside that fragile, newborn body—a soul far older than this world had just awakened.
I'm human.
The realization struck like thunder. A chaotic storm of emotions churned within him, a mix of triumph and disbelief. After 3,000 years as a god's pawn, after countless lifetimes bound by celestial chains—
I'm finally free.
Lying in the arms of an old midwife, crying like any other newborn, was no ordinary child. He was once a Demon King. A being of terror, feared across countless worlds, shackled by divine punishment—forced to reincarnate as a Demon over and over again.
But now?
Now, the chains had been shattered.
I can finally ascend.
Theon's small fingers twitched, clenching weakly. I will take revenge on those wretched gods who denied me my right to divinity…
His cries grew louder, but deep within them—hidden beneath the infant's helpless wails—was a soul laughing in pure, unfiltered rage and triumph.