The End and the Beginning

Clay Klient leaned back in his chair, gazing at the faint light of his computer monitor. The figures and graphs merged into one, his head too tired to concentrate. Another day, another batch of reports his supervisor would likely disregard. He sighed, massaging his temples. The office was deserted by this time, save for a handful of overworked staff, their keyboards clacking like the seconds ticking away until their own burnout.

Clay Klient leaned over his desk, staring at the soft hum of his computer screen. The figures and charts were a haze, his mind too fatigued to tune in. Just another day, another stack of reports his supervisor would likely ignore. A slow sigh passed his lips as he massaged his temples. By then the building was empty, except for a pair of burned out staff members still hammering at the keys like the sound of a time bomb counting down to their own deaths.

Clay walked away, leaving him trapped between the two, his heart pounded with an intensity he couldn't explain. He didn't even know her name. is aching back and grabbed his coat. He needed a drink. Desperately. His entire existence was all work, and he was finished with it. His mind went back to the morning that had contained the faintest glimmer of something — or, better, someone — that had interrupted the drabness of his daily routine. A woman in front of the breakroom, her long silver hair falling in rivulets like silk Her violet eyes having looked into his for a brief instant before she

"Tch. As if it makes any difference."

He exited into the biting night air, shoving hands into his coat pockets on the way to the regular bar. The streets were empty, neon signs glowing on wet sidewalk. He eased the door on the bar open and sat on a stool at the counter.

"The usual?" The bartender, an old tired-eyed man, asked.

Clay nodded. "Yeah. Make it tough."

The initial sip burned his down his throat, a bitter sweet diversion from the empty space in his chest. He glanced around the bar, but everything was the same. Same old faces, same old same old empty chatter. He laughed cynically

"What am I doing with my life?"

One became two. Two became four. His mind grew foggy, his limbs heavy. The face of that woman came back into his head. Would his life be different if he had mustered the courage to speak to her? Doubtful. He was just another underpaid, overworked, and exhausted middle-aged man drowning in the nine-to-five rut.

Clay barely registered when he stepped out of the bar and his legs lurched on the sidewalk. Cold air hit him, but it didn't quite register.

His thoughts were elsewhere, oscillating between frustration and regret.

And that's when it happened.

A honk of a horn. Blinding headlights. A hard crash. Pain—momentary, stabbing, and then. nothing.

Clay was weightless. No pain, no noise, just an infinite expanse of silence.

"So, this is what dying feels like.?"

He anticipated darkness, but a soft, golden light enveloped him. His feet had contact with solid ground, although he was certain that there was nothing there. Standing before him was a woman, unlike any other woman he had ever seen.

She was otherworldly, her presence suffocating yet soothing at once. Silver hair fell in long waves down her back, shining under the warm golden light. Her violet eyes were full of an ancient wisdom, yet kind. A smile tugged at her lips as she watched him.

"Clay Klient," she said, her voice as smooth as silk. "You have died."

No sugarcoating. No dramatic flair. Just a straight-out statement. Clay blinked. He glanced at himself. Still had his hands, his clothes, his body—although everything felt a bit off.

"So. hell or heaven, maybe? Or just gonna float around here for ever and ever?"

The woman laughed softly. "You are one interesting man. Most of them panic or plea for a do-over."

"What's the point? I spent my life away, never actually living. Guess I should have known to expect this sort of finale."

She nodded. "True, but what if I were to tell you. this isn't the end? You do have a choice."

Clay furrowed an eyebrow. "A choice?"

She held out a dainty hand. "You can stay here and move on to the afterlife, or. you can be reborn."

That stopped him in his tracks. "Reborn? Like. as a baby?"

"Not exactly. You'll be taken to another place. A place of danger and of power. A place where you can choose your own path, where you can live freely, without the bonds of your past life."

Clay scowled. It sounded preposterous. But then, again, he was already dead. What could he lose?

"And what's the catch? There's always a catch."

Her violet eyes sparkled. "You will begin with nothing but two gifts of my selection."

"Gifts?" He folded his arms. "What sort of gifts?"

She advanced, putting a finger on his forehead. A warm feeling spread through him as knowledge flooded his mind.

"The first is Appraiser. It will enable you to examine and comprehend the world around you. The second is Domination. With it, you might command and control some creatures."

Clay's heart was racing. It sounded like something right out of a fantasy book. He tried to take a deep breath, to calm his mind.

"Fine. forget it. I'll chance it. This life wasn't worth living anyway. Might as well go see what this new one is like."

The woman smiled. "Very well. Then go, Clay Klient, and forge your legend."

Before he could say anything, the world around him began to blur. The golden light disappeared, and he felt himself falling—

And then he hit something hard.

Pain shot through his body as he groaned. His fingers cramped in wet soil. He heaved heavily upwards, squinting wildly as his eyes coordinated into the light streaming through dense jungle leaves over his head.

"Ugh. where the hell am I?"

Birds cawed in the distance. The air was heavy with the smell of dirt and leaves. He sat up, rubbing his head. His clothes were not the same—torn, coarse material, certainly not the suit he'd been wearing. He looked down at his hands, bending them. He was alive. Truly alive.

"So it wasn't a dream."

A rustling of leaves broke him out of his reverie. His instincts howled at him to get up and go, but his body was still trying to catch up. Then, from the leaves, something appeared.

A creature.

It was on four strong legs, its black fur standing on end. Its fangs dripped with saliva as it growled low in its throat.

Clay swallowed. "Okay. so this is the 'danger' part she told me about."

He slowly backed away, his thoughts racing. He had nothing, no weapons, no armor, nothing. His gaze swept around, searching for something to use.

Then words suddenly materialized in front of his eyes.

[Beast: Shadowfang Wolf - Level 7]

Clay's breath stilled. "Is this. the Appraiser skill?"

The beast growled, its muscles coiled. It was poised to pounce. Clay clenched his teeth.

"Okay. Let's see if Domination works."

He concentrated, willing the energy to come alive. He didn't really understand how it was supposed to work, but he was in no position to consider it. An odd power throbbed through him, extending outward toward the creature.

Nothing happened for an instant. Then—the wolf came to a stop. Its growl died on its lips. Its menacing posture relaxed. Its blood-red eyes met Clay's, and then.

It lowered its head.

Clay breathed again, his heart racing. "Holy shit. it actually worked."

He gazed at the creature, the reality of his existence finally hitting him. He had died. He had been reincarnated. And now he was in a realm where power was all.

A smile crept up onto his face.

"Guess this life might be interesting after all."