"Truck!"
That was Ramona's last thought before the massive vehicle slammed into him. His body hit the cold, unforgiving ground with a sickening thud.
Immediately Blood pooled around him, spilling from his broken frame like a river, soaking into the cracks of the pavement.
He couldn't believe his miserable, wasted life had finally come to an end.
A life filled with suffering.
Day after day, his drunk stepfather turned their home into a living nightmare, his fists teaching Ramos lessons no child should ever learn. His mother? She played her role perfectly—the doting housewife who smiled through the pain, blind to the bruises that darkened her son's skin.
At school, there was no escape either.
His so-called friends turned away the moment trouble knocked on their doors. When the authorities came asking about the scars, about his failing health, they all denied him, shaking their heads as if they had never known him.
And the teachers? They didn't save him either. Instead, they painted him as the villain—a bully, a dangerous psycho who loved playing with sharp objects, always the cause of his own wounds.
No one had ever stood up for him, and challenge his step father, no one had ever tried to saved him.
Ramos couldn't believe it, he couldn't believe they had done it—all of them—just because his stepfather was rich.
Nobody dared to cross a man with money. Nobody wanted to offend him. To them, wealth meant power, and power meant righteousness. No matter how twisted his deeds were, they praised him. They saw him as an extraordinary figure, even calling him a phenomenon. Some even whispered that he was like a god.
'How pathetic, cowards'
Of course, the ones who thought this way were nothing but wretched, spineless rats! Poor and desperate, the kind who scurried under bridges, clinging to scraps. With such a weak mindset, how could they ever hope to rise? How could they ever become more than the filth they already were?
They had placed a mere man on a pedestal, calling him God, while the real God remained beyond their reach.
All they could do was dream, and they would continue to dream.
"Those bastards!"
At that moment Ramos saw the clouds descending from the sky, reaching out to him like gentle hands.
For the first time in his miserable life, something felt right. This—this was the best thing that had ever happened to him, and he could feel peace already, he could feel himself going to a more happy place at least, he deserves to.
There were countless nights when he thought about ending it all. Ending the pain. Ending the suffering. But he never went through with it. Not because he was afraid. No, he refused to give his stepfather the satisfaction of knowing he had broken him.
Most importantly, he believed in something greater.
Every dark tunnel had an end.
And at that end, there was light—blinding, breathtaking light.
Light so powerful that it would expose every monster who had dragged him through the darkness. One day, they would fall to their knees, trembling, begging for forgiveness.
He had always known the future was bright.
But he never imagined it would be this dark.
What a surprising turn of fate.
Now that he was dying this way, he was sure—he would go to heaven directly.
"What a dream!"
What a plot twist compared to everything he had in mind.
The clouds surrounded him, thick and endless, wrapping him in their embrace. A strange force surged through his body, something powerful, something beyond anything he had ever felt before.
Then—whoosh!
Something yanked his spirit away with such force that he had no time to resist. His vision blurred, his senses twisted, and before he could even process what was happening—
His eyes snapped open.
Immediately he was greeted with bright light. A strange ceiling. A feeling of weightlessness.
At that moment Just as he struggled to fathom what had just happened to him, a voice—a clear, feminine voice—rang out.
"Master!"