The void wasn't what Han had imagined. He had always assumed that death would be either the total extinction of consciousness or—on the off chance that some form of afterlife existed—a judgment followed by punishment for someone like him.
Instead, he floated in an indeterminate space, neither dark nor bright. He had no body, and yet he felt a kind of presence. He was aware, though physically nonexistent.
"Interesting," he thought, surprised that he could still form thoughts. "My dying brain must be generating hallucinations."
"Not exactly," replied a voice that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once.
Han would have jolted if he still had a body.
"Who's there?" he asked, though he hadn't spoken aloud. It was more like his thought had manifested directly into this strange space.
"I go by many names," the voice answered. "Some call me Dread, others Thanatos, Azrael, Yama... But these are just labels mortals created to make sense of what they do not understand."
A form began to materialize in the amorphous space. At first vague and shifting, it gradually took the shape of a humanoid figure cloaked in what seemed to be a mantle of swirling darkness. Its face—or what passed for one—was a smooth white mask, featureless except for two slits in which violet flames burned like eyes.
"You're… Death?" Han asked, strangely calm in the face of this surreal apparition.
A sound akin to laughter emanated from the entity.
"I am far more than that. I am a guardian, a ferryman, a judge… some would say a god."
"I don't believe in gods," Han replied with the same sharp certainty that had defined his life. "Either I'm dying and my brain is generating this delusion, or I'm already dead and this is some… residue of consciousness."
"Fascinating," said the entity known as Dread. "Even faced with supernatural evidence, you cling to rational explanations. That stubbornness is what makes humans so… entertaining."
The space around them shifted, transforming into a modern office eerily similar to Han's own at NexGen Industries. The entity sat in what would have been Han's chair, its ash-gray, slender fingers tapping on the desk.
"You are dead, Han Iruma. Pushed in front of a train by a man you once humiliated. Quite a… mundane end, don't you think?"
Han felt a surge of anger rise within him, but it was quickly replaced by a strange sense of detachment.
"If I'm dead, then why am I here? What's the point of this charade?"
Dread leaned forward, the violet flames in its eyes intensifying.
"Because your soul interests me, Han Iruma. You lived without faith, without compassion, guided only by the cold logic of ambition. And yet, you were not evil in the conventional sense. You never took pleasure in others' suffering; it was merely a side effect of your ruthless perfectionism."
The figure stood and walked around the desk, its form flickering with every step.
"I'm offering you a choice, Han. A rare opportunity."
"What kind of opportunity?"
"I can save your soul. Give you a second chance."
Han would have scoffed if he had a face.
"My 'soul'. Of course."
"You're skeptical. Understandably," Dread acknowledged. "But think about it: if I'm right, you have everything to gain. If I'm wrong and this is just a hallucination from your dying brain, then you've lost nothing by playing along."
The logic was unassailable—even to Han.
"Fine. Let's say you are who—or what—you claim to be. What is this choice you're offering?"
The space shifted again, becoming a vast cosmic landscape where galaxies spiraled like leaves in the wind.
"I can send you back. Not to your world, nor to your body—those are lost to you. But to another world, another life. A chance to begin again."
"And in exchange?"
"In exchange, you'll acknowledge my existence. You'll accept that the world is not limited to what your rational mind can comprehend."
Han felt a visceral resistance to the idea. His entire life had been built upon unshakable rationality, a rejection of anything resembling superstition or blind faith.
"So, if I understand correctly, you want me to abandon my core convictions in exchange for… reincarnation?"
"Not quite," Dread replied. "I'm not asking you to renounce your skepticism or logic. I only ask that you admit there are realities beyond what you can perceive or understand."
Han pondered for a moment, weighing his options—if he truly had any.
"And if I refuse?"
The violet flames in Dread's eyes flickered slightly.
"Then your soul will join the great stream, dissolve, and naturally reincarnate, without any memory of your former self. A complete reset, with no continuity or awareness."
"And if I accept?"
"You will be reborn with your soul intact, though your memories will be temporarily sealed. They will be restored when the time is right. You'll have the chance to live a new life while preserving the essence of who you are."
Han sensed a trap—something the entity wasn't telling him.
"Why me? I'm not special. Millions die every day. Why make this offer to me?"
Dread let out something resembling a sigh.
"Because you are precisely what I need, Han Iruma. A mind as rational as it is extreme, a man who lived without a single trace of faith or spirituality. You are… an interesting experiment."
That answer didn't satisfy Han, but he suspected no further clarity was coming.
"What kind of world would I be sent to?"
"A world very different from yours," Dread replied. "A world where what you call magic exists, where gods are not mere constructs of the mind but real forces that shape reality."
Han let out the mental equivalent of a scoff.
"So you want to reincarnate me in a fantasy world to prove gods exist? That's not much of a demonstration."
"It's not meant to convince you," Dread countered. "It's meant to test you. To see whether, when faced with a world where rationality alone cannot explain everything, you'll still cling to militant atheism."
Something stirred in Han. A challenge. He had always thrived in the face of challenges. If this entity—divine or otherwise—thought it could shake his convictions, it was sorely mistaken.
"Very well," he said finally. "I accept your offer. But not because I believe in your divinity. I accept because, even if this is all just the construct of a dying mind, I'd rather spend my final moments in intellectual battle than in passive acceptance of the end."
The flames in Dread's eye sockets flared, and Han could have sworn he saw the hint of a smile on that featureless mask.
"That's why you interest me, Han Iruma. Your arrogance is matched only by your resolve."
The space around them began to dissolve, the galaxies fading like sand drawings washed away by the tide.
"I must warn you," Dread added as reality itself unraveled, "the world I'm sending you to is no paradise. It is a place of conflict, suffering, and war. Your rationality will be tested not only by divine forces but also by the cruelty of men."
"The cruelty of men, at least, is something I know well," Han replied with a bitterness he hadn't known he possessed.
"Indeed," Dread agreed. "Perhaps too well."
As everything faded, Han felt one last surge of defiance.
"When we meet again—and I assume we will—I'll prove to you that even in a world governed by your rules, there's no room for blind faith."
Dread's voice echoed one final time, growing distant:
"It's not me you'll have to convince, Han Iruma… but yourself."
Then everything vanished, and Han Iruma felt himself falling into a bottomless abyss.