Chapter 02: The Gods
So here I am, dead... I think.
I don't feel anything different. I'm still blind, but now I can't feel my limbs either.
It's as if they no longer exist.
There's no sense of smell, no wind, no environment around me.
It's surreal.
It feels like I'm floating in an empty space, completely alone.
"Is this what death feels like? Even in death, I'm alone... I wonder where Big Ben is," I said aloud, or at least I think I did.
I clearly felt myself speaking, but I couldn't feel my mouth move.
Yet, I could hear my own voice.
This is strange.
What am I supposed to do here? Just talk to myself?
Just then, something changed.
I felt what seemed like wind wrapping around me, pulling me somewhere.
Slowly, I was being dragged along.
There was nothing I could do about it.
After all, I'm dead, and I have no idea what's happening to me.
I don't know how long I was being pulled, but when it finally stopped, I found myself in a place that felt... warm.
"I'm curious. If I'm dead, how do I feel warmth when I don't have a physical body?" I muttered to myself, thinking I was alone.
But then, to my surprise, a voice answered.
"You are at the base of Yggdrasil, in the presence of the Gods. Even without a physical body, your soul can still feel, just as it did in life," a soft, feminine voice spoke near me.
...
The World Tree, Yggdrasil, stood as an immense and sacred entity, its vast branches connecting the nine realms of gods from all mythologies, keeping them divine.
The Nine Heavens and Nine Hells all bowed before it, maintaining the eternal cycle of life and death.
At the base of the World Tree, the gods of the Nine Great Mythologies had gathered, circling around it in solemn anticipation, their eyes fixed on the center.
There, in the heart of this divine gathering, stood the soul of a single mortal.
Various emotions were reflected on the faces of the gods, but it was clear that they were silently assessing the soul before them.
"You are at the base of Yggdrasil, in the presence of the gods. Even without a physical body, your soul can still feel, just as it did in life," a soft, feminine voice spoke, resonating gently near the mortal's soul.
"Gods?" the soul questioned, though no voice escaped his lips.
Still, the gods heard him clearly.
"Yes," the voice responded.
The voice came from a woman of radiant beauty, her skin a rich golden-brown, almost coppery in tone, and her dark black hair cascading gracefully around her shoulders.
Her almond-shaped eyes were deep and expressive, often accentuated by thick, dark eyeliner, which added to her air of elegance.
She was dressed in a flowing, white sheath dress, or perhaps one of a brilliant color, which highlighted her grace and divine presence.
"W-Who are you?" the mortal soul asked, it's confusion palpable.
"I am Hathor," she replied, her voice calm and gentle, carrying an innate warmth.
"The goddess of love, motherhood, birth, joy, and music from the Egyptian mythology." Her gaze softened as she looked upon the mortal soul, recognizing the storm of emotions swirling within him.
As a goddess connected to emotions, Hathor could sense the soul's turmoil—pain, coldness, and anger—but there was something more, something deeper.
She could feel the weight of his suffering.
"Why am I here?" the soul asked, his voice trembling.
"To be judged," another god said, his voice soft but unwavering.
This figure was formed of pure, silvery light, his form radiant and otherworldly.
"Heh, are you fucking serious?" a bitter laugh echoed from the soul, and the expressions of all the gods shifted.
"You want to judge me? What fucking right do you have?" The voice of the soul cracked, as if he was on the verge of a mental breakdown.
"I've suffered my entire life—from birth to death. All I know is pain, and all I remember is pain. You gods are supposed to help those in suffering, yet you did nothing," the soul spat, his laugh laced with bitterness and agony.
The gods' expressions darkened.
Many of them felt deeply offended, their divine auras flaring as they prepared to erase the insolent mortal's soul.
But a few other gods stepped in to stop them.
Among those who remained calm were gods like the one formed of pure silvery white light, the Heavenly Father, the goddess Hathor, Athena, Aphrodite, Frigga, the underworld god Hades, Parvati, and the moon god Tsukuyomi.
These gods understood the pain in the mortal soul's words.
They had watched his life unfold, witnessing the suffering he had endured.
He was right—they had done nothing to intervene in his torment, even if it was beyond their power to do so.
They had no right to judge him.
Especially gods and goddesses connected to emotions—Hathor, Aphrodite, Venus, Freyja, Hestia, and Krishna—could empathize with the depth of the mortal's anguish.
They had wanted to help, truly.
But the laws of the universe prohibited the gods from directly interfering in mortal affairs.
That didn't stop them from trying.
They had sent aid his way, only to find something incomprehensible blocking their attempts.
Every effort they made was negated by an unseen force, beyond even their divine comprehension.
This anomaly drew their attention, and they began to observe him more closely.
As the mortal's suffering grew over the years, so too did the number of gods watching him.
By the time of his death, nearly every god was deeply intrigued by him—or, more specifically, by his soul.
While the more rational gods and goddesses were interested in the mystery of his soul, the emotional gods had watched him solely because of the torment he had endured.
They had wanted to intervene, but divine law forbade it, and even their indirect help had been ineffective.
It was as though this mortal's very existence was cursed, as if he had been placed into the world to endure endless punishment.
His life was a chain of suffering, and the gods could not understand why—even those with dominion over the souls of mortals were baffled by him.
His death occurred around the same time the gods learned of an impending threat looming over their universe.
Desperate for an solution, they made a decision: rather than allowing this soul to pass through the cycle of reincarnation, they brought him here, into the presence of the divine.
They wanted to use this mortal's soul.
The soul laughed bitterly, its voice filled with pain and sadness.
Shaking its head, it struggled to grasp the situation.
Was it really speaking to the gods?
It didn't matter anymore.
All it wanted was to release the emotions that had been festering inside.
The soul no longer cared about what would happen next.
After releasing his frustrations, he waited... waited for whatever fate awaited him.
"We understand your pain," the Heavenly Father began, his voice heavy with sorrow.
"Your anger is justified. We, the gods, should have answered your prayers."
"But we couldn't," the goddess Aphrodite added, her expression filled with grief. "You must understand that..."
"Why not?" the soul asked, bewildered.
The idea that even the gods could not help him was beyond it's comprehension.
"You've lived a life full of suffering," the goddess Hathor began, her voice soft yet firm.
"Blind, never having seen the light. Shunned and beaten by society for being different. Ignored by your own mother and father. Ravaged by disease. Hated by everyone."
"And yet, despite all of this, you never gave in to hatred, never harmed another soul. You endured, pushing yourself to survive for as long as you could."
"Even the sturdiest rock will crumble if struck repeatedly... I can't think of anyone more deserving of life than you," she added, her voice almost breaking.
"Many gods wanted to help you, myself included," the goddess Parvati interjected.
"But your existence... it's unlike that of other mortals. Every attempt we made to aid you was intercepted by an unknown force, as if you were fated to be punished. It was as though something beyond our reach was ensuring your suffering."
"How convenient," the soul spat bitterly.
"How unlucky must I be, that not even the gods can help me? What is the purpose of my existence? Am I here only to suffer?"
If the soul had a physical form, it would have shed tears at that moment, its pain overwhelming.
"To be honest, we don't know why either," Hades, the god of the underworld, growled, his dark eyes brooding.
"It's a mystery to even us."
"Humph, whatever," the soul scoffed, his voice empty of hope.
"What happens now? Will you erase my soul? Or are you going to send me to the deepest depths of hell to suffer even more?"
The soul's tone was filled with resignation, as if it expected nothing but more torment.
As if, even in death, peace was an impossibility.