An old man in a white coat was sitting at a garage table, doing some research, tapping his pen on his forehead.
"Well, I guess I could make a core energy to power up the whole country," he talked to himself.
Ronkai started sketching the idea, scribbling across a piece of paper. The idea, for him, was outstanding—a blue energy core that could power up the entire nation. He had already made a lot of inventions before—very advanced ones, more perfect to say—and for multiple companies and businesses.
Pictures of him were scattered around his garage: him with his inventions, the awards he had won over the years. He started at age 17 and continued until now. A "God's Mindset," some people described him as.
From some of the photos, the inventions were ones that helped the cities and the people—like kinetic energy as a way to power cars without harming the environment, or one where he invented an AI that managed the president's paperwork. He had accomplished a lot—more than most could dream of.
He didn't regret anything at all. What else could he have asked for? At a young age, he was always interested in inventions, and now that dream had paid off. He faced obstacles, sure, but he definitely created some great innovations.
After a week or so, he had already planned out and brainstormed his new invention—creating a blue core energy source, one that could replace renewable energy and fossil fuels entirely. This could really make a difference. It would last for thousands of years and would be far more efficient, capable of powering whole cities with a single surge.
His hands shook with excitement as he smiled.
"Now I just need to build it," he said, taking off his coat and hanging it on a rusted hook beside the door.
Of course, this was going to take some time. It was very advanced and required a lot of investments, rare materials, and delicate engineering to make it work—and prove it.
Years passed. He was 80 years old at this point in his life. The invention was ready. He stood in his garage, holding the blue core energy in his hand. He had designed it so it wouldn't harm him—a smooth, round orb glowing faintly, humming with life.
This was the moment history itself would change, he thought as he raised his arms, clenching the core with both hands.
He looked at the machine it was meant to go into—it was huge, made of black metal harder than steel, able to withstand energy equal to the sun. In the middle was a circular opening, the heart where the core would be placed.
With a slow and careful motion, he stretched his arms forward and placed the core into the machine.
The machine began beeping rapidly, the ground trembling slightly. Energy crawled through the veins of the machine, radiating an intense blue light.
But something was off...
It should have stopped moving. Ronkai raised an eyebrow, confused. The machine was supposed to stabilize and let the energy flow steadily. Instead, it began to beep even faster. The ground shook more violently in protest. Suddenly, the machine burst with blue energy.
"What th—" his words were cut off.
The room exploded with a massive surge of blue light. The garage cracked apart as the explosion ripped through it in every direction, debris flying like shrapnel—and then silence.
Traces of Ronkai? Well, the dude just got vaporized. Only his feet remained, heat radiating off them. Just a few more years and he would've died peacefully in a bed—but now, he's just a pair of feet. Nothing more.
***
It was dark—very dark—but suddenly, Ronkai opened his eyes. The bright light made him squint a little. As he adjusted to the light, he opened his eyes fully and looked around.
The place was bright—whiteness everywhere. The walls, rooftop, floor, even the furniture like the bookshelf, the chair he was sitting on—everything was white. But the air felt the same, still and quiet. Ronkai frowned.
Where am I? Maybe heaven..., he thought. If this was heaven, then he shouldn't panic. If anything, if he were in hell, he'd probably be burning by now.
Ronkai started remembering what had happened. His invention really did turn on him—it exploded right in his face. He sighed.
"Damn it, dying like that is embarrassing...." He rubbed his forehead with his hand.
He looked at it, and his eyes widened slightly.
His skin looked much younger—no wrinkles at all. Maybe around 18 years old again.
"Huh…"
He looked up in front of him and immediately startled. He saw an old man, probably older than he ever was. He hadn't noticed him there before. The man was sitting in a much more comfortable chair than his, wearing a white suit—only white—with white hair, and white eyes. He looked a little rusty, with multiple wrinkles and eyes that were slightly closed, like he hadn't properly slept in centuries.
"Well, welcome, my child, to the afterlife—and I hope—you don't mind all the whiteness," he burped after every sentence as he chugged a beer, holding it in his right arm.
Ronkai assumed he was God, but something about him didn't quite convince him. I mean, shouldn't God avoid drinking beer?
"Are you supposed to be God? You kinda look…" he hesitated, "rough in some edges."
"Well what kinda question is that, son? Of course I'm God, I created you! Don't you see how white I am? Tch," he said, then kept drinking.
'Well, as long as I can invent stuff in heaven, it's all good', Ronkai thought, leaning back in his chair.
God placed the beer bottle on the table in front of them both. "So, you died by an explosion from your own invention—cool way to die, I must admit."
Ronkai didn't react to that. I mean, he kinda hated being blown up by his failed invention, but on the other hand, dying in an explosion caused by your own creation was definitely a cool way to go.
"You were a famous inventor—a smart one at that. Well, that's just your past life anyway. All I can say is—heaven doesn't really exist here. I didn't even think of such a thing. You're just going to be reincarnated into another world—or whatever Japanese people call it," God said, grabbing his beer again and still chugging.
"Huh? You mean another world? What kind of world?" Ronkai demanded.
"Oh, you know. So far I only created two worlds—Earth, and this other world you're going to. Name's Eden. It's not like your normal world. It's got all that magic stuff—you already know, I assume."
Ronkai stayed silent for a while, then spoke. "Woah, woah, woah—what do you mean by that? Do you mean there won't be modern technology? Are you saying I have to start from scratch?" Ronkai raised his voice, clearly irritated.
"Well, I mean—yeah. No technology. But I've never met someone who hated the idea of magic and dragons and demon kings or whatever's going on in that world," God said, not really caring.
"Either way, you don't—have a choice. I could technically send you to Earth, but my world—my rules. You're going to Eden," God said with multiple burps, thanks to the beer.
Ronkai's eye twitched with annoyance, but he eventually calmed down and just accepted it. He didn't like it at all. Sure, magic existed—but it would almost feel like the medieval era, and people back then had tough lives. No electricity, no comfort, no high-end tools or nuclear bombs.
"But don't worry, son. You'll get magic yourself," God said cheerfully. "I could give you immense strength that surpasses everyone in that world. 'Cause, you know, you were famous on Earth—may as well make you famous on Eden. I could enchant everything!" he added, smiling wide with a slight hiccup.
Ronkai thought about it... magic, huh? Aside from technology? He shook his head. He didn't really care. Even if magic could help him build technology, he wasn't going to take it. For him, technology always stood supreme above everything else. Abandoning it just because of magic? From those overhyped fantasy medias? No. He chose tech.
"I don't want it," he said flatly.
God raised an eyebrow. "You don't?" He seemed surprised. "Well, whatever, son—it's your choice. But it's gonna be tough. I mean, magic is everything in that world. You'll live a rough life without it. You sure about that?"
"Yeah. Magic kinda sucks, not gonna lie," Ronkai said with a shrug.
"And why's that?"
"I mean, technology can do anything magic can't," Ronkai said proudly. "I don't know, I've read a lot of comics and manga to know that magic ain't really that strong if you build something to beat it. Tech always wins."
"Well, how about I give you magic related to that—" God started to say, but Ronkai cut him off.
"Nah. It's still magic."
God sighed and took a final sip of his beer. "Oh well. Have it your way. I may as well tell you what you might encounter over there."
Ronkai leaned forward a bit. May as well—if he was gonna live there, better to be prepared.
"First of all, if you don't want magic, you need to know—people out there are gonna try to murder you. And… do stuff you don't wanna know. I've seen it. It gets weird," God said, waving his hand in circles. "So, I know you said no magic, but how about I give you something like fake magic? People will sense your mana, but it won't be real. Just a cover."
Ronkai thought about it. He didn't see anything wrong with that. If anything, it could help in the long run—and it might keep him from being hunted like some rare animal.
"Sure. Why not."
God nodded, raised his hand lazily, pointed it at Ronkai, then dropped it.
"…That was it?" Ronkai said, confused.
"Yeah. What, you think there were gonna be some sparkles or a dramatic chant?" God leaned back. "Nah. You just got fake mana."
"Well, I thought there was gonna be, like, some—you know... ahh, never mind," he dismissed with a quick wave of his hand.
"Anything else I need to know?" he asked.
"Yeah, but you'll learn it with experience. I'm too lazy to explain everything," God replied, summoning another beer with a flick of his finger and taking a long sip. "Besides, you've got the mindset of a wise person—you'll figure it out."
Ronkai sat back, thinking. He was about to be sent to Eden, a world full of magic—that much was obvious. Maybe he should start inventing things over there, starting from scratch. Now that he thought about it, it didn't sound like such a bad idea. He'd basically become the Thomas Edison of that world. Still, it would take time, and without modern tech and infrastructure, it'd be annoying as hell. But he was confident enough to make it work. He always did.
"Anyways, I just have one more question. Where are you gonna drop me in Eden?" Ronkai asked, waiting.
"Just a random forest. Don't worry, you'll be fine. Those types of forests are generally safe—mostly squirrels, and some birds."
Ronkai nodded. "Okay then, I'm ready."
God stood up after hearing that and placed both hands on his lower back, leaning backward as a satisfying crack-pop echoed through the room.
"Ahhh, that hit the spot. Alright, I'll send you there now."
God closed his eyes. A few seconds passed before the floor beneath Ronkai trembled slightly. Cracks began forming near his left side, crawling into the wall beside him. The cracks swirled upward, branching like veins, forming a twisting circle. Slowly, an oval-shaped portal opened—dark and pulsing, with red energy swirling aggressively around it. The portal emitted low, eerie frequency sounds, like a heartbeat in reverse.
God opened his eyes and looked at Ronkai.
"Well, there you go. Just enter this portal and you'll be sent to Eden."
Ronkai stared at it with a squint. "You sure it won't send me to hell? It definitely looks and feels like it."
God dismissed the idea with a chuckle. "Hell? Nonsense. I just made it that way. Wanted to give it a bit of dramatic flair, you know? Now get the fuck outta here—I've got millions of dead people to send to Eden."
Ronkai stepped forward but stopped midway. "You mean... there's gonna be people like me?"
"No, not really," God said casually. "Just different variations of Eden, so—nah. Not your version."
Ronkai sighed in disappointment before slowly stepping into the portal. The swirling red energy curled around him as it closed behind him with a deep hum, sealing shut like a lid.
He found himself floating in a black void. No sound. No movement. His five senses were completely disconnected. Then, suddenly, he was yanked downward by an intense force. Ronkai tried to scream, but no sound came out—it was as if something was blocking it, sealing his voice inside his throat. His heart pounded violently in his chest, panic rising.
There was no air. No feeling.
And then—he blacked out.