Chapter 2: beyond life
"What a beautiful sky!" - murmured the young man lying on the water's surface flowing into the unknown distance. His face was calm as if freed from all worries. He looked up into the vast heavens, amazed at their unearthly beauty. Not a cloud, not a star, just thin purple patterns, as if woven from cosmic dust.
He didn't know how much time he had spent here. All around him, an endless expanse of cool water stretched to the horizon, carrying him to places he couldn't begin to name. A heavy thought settled over him—perhaps he was already dead.
The young man reflected on his life. Though it had been brief—just 23 years—he felt no regret. His vivid and varied memories held moments of joy and sorrow, happiness and pain, and each was precious to him. He had lived a life he genuinely enjoyed.
His death hadn't been by choice. He wasn't entirely sure what had happened, but he remembered falling asleep in a friend's car on the way to a concert. It wasn't hard to piece together that he must have died in an accident.
Thoughts of his parents haunted his soul with relentless torment. Surely, they now languished in unspeakable grief—his mother's eyes shimmering with tears of despair, his father's heart heavy with a sorrow that could not be spoken. And his friends, too, must be cloaked in melancholy. These reflections weighed upon his heart like a stone, yet he endeavored to evade their cruel grasp. He turned instead to what he had left undone—so many places yet unseen, books yet unread, and moments of fleeting beauty yet unfelt.
The list stretched before him endlessly, but he resigned himself to its impossibility. Death arrives for all—its shadow falls when least expected, and such thoughts, he mused, are inevitable companions to the living.
An hour had passed, perhaps more, when suddenly a voice pierced the silence:
"Get up."
The voice was male, yet soft, almost coaxing.
"Hey! Are you deaf? Get up, I said!"
"Who the hell are you? And how am I supposed to stand when there's water everywhere?"
"Just do as you're told."
Allen — yes, that was his name — decided to try and follow the words of the unknown voice. He closed his eyes and tried to rise as if he were lying on solid ground. Surprised, he felt his hands rest against the water's surface.
With hesitant, awkward movements, he managed to stand, his gaze fixed downward. He was standing upon the water.
"Good. I don't have much time," the voice continued impatiently. "Come here."
Allen turned, following the sound. There, standing upon the water as he was, stood a young boy. His hair was a bright shock of red, his face smarmy and impish, with eyes the color of amber. His attire was as peculiar as his presence—scant and adorned with fluttering ribbons, a loose top exposing his stomach, and shorts hanging well below his knees.
"Who are you?" Allen asked, the question inevitable.
"Peon." the boy replied, almost dismissively.
Allen furrowed his brow. "Huh?"
He had expected something more—a name, yes, but perhaps also an explanation: who this strange boy was, why they were here, or even some inkling of a purpose.
The boy sighed, lowering his head in exasperation.
"Alright," he muttered, almost to himself. "I'll make this quick. If you don't get it, that's not my problem. Keep your questions to yourself."
With that, Peon placed one hand on his hip and began gesturing with the other.
"My name is Peon, and I'm the demon assigned to wandering souls," the boy declared.
Allen's face twisted in shock. "D-demon?"
"I told you, don't interrupt," Peon snapped, his voice rising in irritation. "Souls like yours are special. They're eternal. But don't get the wrong idea—you're not unique. There are millions like you."
Allen listened intently to the boy.
"The purpose of your kind," Peon continued, "is to fill your soul."
"Fill? What does that even mean?" Allen asked, his brow furrowed in confusion.
Peon's face darkened with anger. He thrust his hand out, his index finger pointing accusingly at Allen.
"Are you dumb? I said no interruptions. Do that again, and I won't explain anything."
With a sigh of exasperation, Peon composed himself and went on.
"You'll be reincarnated into another world. Your job is simple: stay alive and live an interesting life. The former tends to be the harder part, since over ninety percent of souls don't make it through the first year. But you'll be given a gift to aid you. Usually, it's something useful... though not always."
As he finished his monologue, the boy put his arms at his sides, standing like a victorious hero. A smug smirk played on his lips, clearly pleased with the way he said those words.
"Uh, why..." Allen began, but before he could finish his question, Peon cut him off with an impatient wave of his hand.
"No questions," the boy barked. "You'll figure it out as the case unfolds."
Peon waved his hand to the side as if conjuring an unseen force. The water beneath his feet began to churn violently. Allen's gaze dropped to the swirling depths, where a vast, dark shadow was swiftly rising. His heart raced as the murky form surged upward, breaking through the water's surface with explosive force.
Allen was drenched by the sudden torrent, saltwater stinging his eyes. He wiped his face hurriedly, blinking away the sting, only to find himself staring in astonishment at what had emerged from the depths.
Before him, a monstrous slot machine loomed, its gleaming metallic body towering at least thirty meters into the air. The machine's imposing presence was both surreal and menacing, casting a long shadow over the shimmering waves.
While Allen stood transfixed by the colossal structure, Peon leaped with nimble grace onto the lever jutting from its side, a jubilant grin spreading across his face. The lever gleamed in the sunlight, and Peon's infectious excitement charged the air around them.
"I present to you the 'Heart of Fortune,' the arbiter of your destiny!" Peon announced with a joyful smile, leaping up and landing squarely on the lever. It slid down smoothly and then returned to its original position with a satisfying click.
The familiar sounds of a slot machine filled the air, a symphony of clinks and chimes. Allen watched as the three slots slowed, one by one, each click heightening his anxiety. When the reels finally stopped, they revealed the unmistakable logo of the One Piece anime.
"Nice one, that's a pretty rare slot," Peon remarked, his voice tinged with amusement." Looks like your next world will be One Piece." He gave the machine a little nudge, setting it in motion again.
Allen watched the spinning slots intently, like a gambler who had staked everything on a single spin. His heart pounded in his chest.
One Piece... It wasn't the place he would've chosen. Beneath the playful adventures and comical moments, he knew there lurked a world of brutality and suffering, a place where death came as swiftly as the tides. His palms felt clammy as he silently pleaded for a better outcome.
Peon hummed a tuneless melody to himself, his eyes sparkling with both satisfaction and childish excitement. "And what will it be?" he mumbled, more to himself than to Allen.
Allen's nerves were frayed, his mind racing with silent pleas to Fortune. The first slot stopped with a distinctive click. His eyes widened in disbelief as the subsequent slots halted, each revealing a face.
Allen's thoughts raced in a jumble of disbelief and cautious hope. He knew that face well. The second most powerful character from the Jujutsu Kaisen anime, he simply could not have hoped for such incredible luck.
"Wow, aren't you the lucky one," Peon said, his tone laced with surprise. "That's Satoru Gojo."
Gojo's powers—the limitless techniques, the near-invincibility... Could it be? Could he wield such abilities in a world as dangerous as One Piece? His mind spun with the possibilities, and before he could stop himself, he opened his mouth.
"Wait, does that mean I'll have Gojo's techniques? His abilities? Everything he—"
Suddenly, a massive shadow loomed behind Allen. It was silent, sinister, a great hulking beast outlined as though drawn by a black feather dipped in ink. The shadow took the form of a wolf—its eyes glinting with an eerie, otherworldly hunger. Without warning, the creature lunged forward, its enormous jaws gaping wide as it snapped shut around Allen's torso, biting his upper body clean off in one swift, silent motion.
Peon sighed, a hand lazily on his hip as he strolled toward the towering beast, now standing four meters tall above the roiling water. "Is he an imbecile?" Peon muttered, shaking his head. "I told him—no questions."
The wolf, dark and shadowy, stood still for a moment, its empty gaze fixed on Peon. The demon gave the creature an approving nod.
"Well done, well done... That'll do for today." Peon stretched languidly, his eyes half-closed with boredom, and began walking off toward some unseen destination, his figure gradually disappearing into the distance.
The shadowy wolf, which had consumed Allen, remained in place, its form seeming to ripple and shift like ink dissolving in water. It was no ordinary beast, for its bite had a singular purpose. Any soul it devoured would be reincarnated, sent into the world with a new fate.
Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone