Chapter - 1 - Prologue

It was a beautiful morning in Los Angeles. The sun shone through the cracks of the scattered cloud cover and into Blake's face.

Blake was your everyday Joe—a normal guy with a normal life. The same boring routine, day in and day out. He worked as a construction worker for Gründer Corporation, some German company that had expanded into the U.S. and was quickly taking over job sites. It was good pay, sure, but nothing exciting.

Blake wiped the sweat from his brow as he hoisted another steel beam into place. His life wasn't bad by any means, just… monotonous. The same early mornings, the same traffic, the same coworkers complaining about the weather or management. He'd thought about doing something more with his life once, but those dreams had been buried beneath the concrete foundations he helped build.

After work, he'd go home to his small apartment, crack open a beer, and scroll through social media, watching other people live their lives. He'd see friends from high school posting about vacations, fancy dinners, and new gadgets. Meanwhile, his biggest excitement of the week was getting paid so he could make rent on time.

"Yo, Blake! Mind handing me the drill?" Alex, one of his coworkers, called out, extending a hand.

"Sure thing," Blake replied, tossing the drill over to him.

"Thanks, man," Alex said before going back to his work.

Blake kept mostly to himself. Sure, he'd chat with his coworkers about the usual stuff—football, women, cars—but he didn't dive as deep into it as the others did. He liked to keep things surface level, not out of any dislike for them, but because he didn't feel the same connection.

Despite that, he did like the work. There was something satisfying about seeing the skyline of L.A. take shape, knowing that he had a hand in raising these towering structures. It gave him a sense of pride—something tangible in a world that seemed to be losing that kind of meaning. Every time he saw a building go up, he could point and say, "I helped build that." It wasn't glamorous, but it was real.

Blake wiped his hands on his jeans and took a deep breath, looking up at the half-finished tower rising above him. Yeah, life was repetitive, but moments like these made it worthwhile. There was something grounding about hard work, something that kept him tethered when everything else seemed to be speeding by.

"Hey, you coming out for drinks later?" Brandon, another Coworker, shouted over, breaking Blake's train of thought.

Blake hesitated for a moment. He knew what it would be like—loud music, cheap beer, and the same conversations they'd had a hundred times. Part of him wanted to say no, head home to relax, but the other part—the part that felt like maybe, just maybe, something was missing from his life—wanted to join in. To be part of something more than just the worksite.

"Yeah, maybe," Blake finally answered, giving a half-hearted shrug.

Brandon gave him a thumbs-up. Blake replied with a tired smile. He then took off his helmet, running a hand through his brown hair. As Blake moved across the scaffolding to help another coworker, Gregory, mount a window into its frame, something caught his eye. One of the bolts on the scaffolding looked loose. He paused, his gaze lingering on it for a second too long.

Blake was always prepared for moments like this. He had a pouch of tools attached to his belt at all times, just in case. Without a second thought, he pulled out the right-sized wrench and went down on one knee, tightening the bolt. It didn't take long, but it was enough to make Gregory notice his absence.

"Blake, where the hell are you?!" Gregory's raspy voice echoed through the site. The older man was a veteran—gruff and no-nonsense. He'd seen more than most and didn't tolerate delays, especially when he called for someone.

Blake knew Gregory's temper, so he quickly tucked the wrench back into his belt and hurried over. But not before making a mental note to check the bolt again later, just in case. As he jogged toward Gregory, he could feel the tension in his gut rising, the same strange feeling that had been bothering him all day. It was as if something was about to shift, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it.

For now, though, he pushed the thought aside. Gregory was the kind of man you didn't keep waiting.

"Hold this while I tighten the screws. Alright?" Gregory said, his voice gruff but steady.

"Got it, old man," Blake replied with a smirk, teasing him as usual. Gregory shot him a glare, but Blake knew better than to take it seriously. It was an unspoken rule among the crew to tease Gregory whenever they could. Even though he acted grumpy, he was in on the joke, and it had become part of their daily routine.

"Alright, now you tighten your side while I hold," Gregory instructed, settling into position.

"Yup," Blake said, pulling out his Phillips head screwdriver. He locked it into the screw and began tightening, moving smoothly from one screw to the next. In a matter of seconds, the window was mounted securely, standing firm in its frame.

"Thank you, Blake," Gregory said with a nod, his tone surprisingly appreciative as he stood up and walked off to check on the next task.

No one could deny one thing about Gregory—despite his short temper and grizzled exterior, the man knew how to lead a team. He treated everyone with respect, and because of that, the crew liked him. Blake often thought about that. Gregory's tough-love leadership kept the group tight, despite the rough nature of the job. Even when things got tense, they all knew he had their backs.

Blake watched Gregory walk off, wiping his hands on his pants before standing up straight. Moments like this reminded him that his job wasn't all bad. There was a certain camaraderie here, a sense of belonging that you couldn't find just anywhere. Still, that strange unease lingered in the back of his mind, gnawing at him like something was about to change.

Blake turned his head, remembering the loose bolt he still needed to tighten on the scaffolding. Nodding to himself, he made his way back, pulling out the wrench from his belt. As he walked, he casually twirled it in his hand, whistling a lighthearted tune that echoed faintly against the towering steel beams around him.

"There you are," Blake muttered to himself when he spotted the loose bolt. He crouched down, ready to get to work, but his eyes wandered toward the edge of the scaffolding.

Peering over the ledge, he let out a scoff. "It'd be really bad if I fell here," he muttered under his breath, staring down the dizzying height of the 40-story building. And it wasn't even finished yet—still growing, with new levels being added every few weeks.

Blake stood up for a moment, feeling the wind whip around him as he took in the view of the city sprawling below. Heights never bothered him much, but the sheer scale of it all sometimes made him pause. One misstep here, and it was a long way down. He chuckled to himself and shook the thought from his head, focusing back on the task at hand.

With a firm grip on the wrench, he knelt down again and tightened the bolt, making sure everything was secure. For a second, everything seemed normal. But then, the ground beneath him trembled slightly—just a faint vibration, as if something far below had shifted.

Blake froze, his grip tightening on the wrench. It was subtle, almost imperceptible, but enough to make the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

"Blake, I got something… what are you doing there?!" Alex's voice cut through the hum of the construction site. He was approaching with a folder in hand, but froze as he saw Blake kneeling by the scaffolding, wrench in hand.

"Just tightening this loose bolt," Blake replied, trying his best to keep the rising panic out of his voice. Something didn't feel right, but he forced himself to stay calm.

"Get away from there, slowly…" Alex's voice was no longer casual. He took a cautious step backward, his eyes wide with alarm.

Blake's heart pounded. "Why, what's wrong?" he asked with a nervous chuckle. His fingers fumbled with the wrench as he glanced back at Alex, hoping for an answer.

But before Alex could say anything, a sharp crack echoed through the wooden planks beneath Blake's feet. The sound made Blake freeze, his stomach dropping as the scaffolding shifted ever so slightly. The trembling sensation he'd felt earlier suddenly made sense.

"GET BACK!" Alex yelled, panic now flooding his voice.

Blake's instinct kicked in, and he tried to stand, but the second he put weight on the plank beneath him, it gave way with a terrifying snap. Time seemed to slow as the ground vanished from under his feet, and Blake felt the sickening sensation of falling. He reached out, but there was nothing solid to grab onto—nothing to stop him from plunging into the depths below.

The wind roared in his ears as he fell, the city below rushing up to meet him. For a brief, terrifying moment, everything went silent, and all Blake could hear was his own heartbeat thundering in his chest.

With a bone-shaking thud, Blake hit the ground.

"BLAKE FELL!" Alex's panicked voice echoed through the air, cutting through the usual clamor of the construction site. Workers snapped their heads up, and the chaotic noise of machinery ground to a halt.

On the ground, people screamed, their eyes wide in shock as they rushed to the spot where Blake's body had landed, just feet away from them. Several workers scrambled to dial emergency services, while others stood frozen, unable to comprehend what had just happened.

A circle formed around Blake's motionless form, his body twisted unnaturally on the hard pavement. Blood trickled from his head, staining the concrete below. Shouts of panic and disbelief filled the air as someone kneeled down to check for a pulse, their hands shaking.

"Call an ambulance! Hurry!" one of the foremen barked, pushing through the crowd.

The workers stood helplessly, trying to process the horror in front of them.

But for Blake, it was too late. The force of the impact had been catastrophic, severing his spinal cord from the neck down and crushing most of his vital organs along with his bones.

Death had come instantly, sparing him any pain or awareness of his final moments.

The workers below realized, in a sickening instant, that there was nothing they could do. The frantic calls for help slowed, replaced by a heavy, suffocating silence as the reality of what had just happened sank in. Blake Thompson, the guy they worked with every day, was gone. No amount of medical intervention could change that.

Alex stood frozen in place, his heart racing.

He stared at the spot where his friend had fallen, unable to fully grasp the finality of it. The air felt colder, the noise of the construction site far away and muted, like a bad dream.

Blake's eyes snapped open, and he gasped, his chest rising and falling as if he'd been holding his breath for hours. He found himself lying on a bed, drenched in sweat, his heart racing.

"Oh God… it was just a dream," he muttered, rubbing his forehead. His clothes clung to his skin as if he'd just stepped out of the shower fully dressed. He sat up, trying to shake off the lingering terror of the fall, still feeling the phantom sensation of the impact.

But before he could collect his thoughts, a deep, booming voice echoed around him, shaking the very air. "I'm afraid not."

Blake froze, his blood running cold. The walls of his bedroom shimmered, then dissolved into nothing, revealing a vast, endless expanse of sky. He blinked, trying to make sense of what was happening. In front of him, a figure emerged—a woman clad in a white robe, but it was far too revealing for his liking. The fabric clung to her form, and Blake instinctively averted his eyes, feeling a mix of confusion and discomfort.

"Wh-where am I?" Blake stammered, his voice shaky. He couldn't process what he was seeing. The fall, the pain, the impact—it had all felt so real.

The woman's lips curved into a slight smile, though her eyes remained unreadable. "You are in the space between life and death, Blake Thompson. Your world has ended, but your story is far from over."

Blake's mouth went dry. He shook his head, trying to piece together what she was saying. "Wait… I'm dead?" His mind raced, memories of the fall flooding back. The scaffolding, the panic, the ground rushing up to meet him—then nothing.

The woman stepped forward, her presence commanding, yet oddly serene. "You were, yes. But now, you've been chosen for something beyond the limits of your old world. A new path awaits you—if you accept it."

"Wait a damn second," Blake interrupted, shaking his head violently and holding his hand out to stop her. "You're telling me I'm getting Isekai-ed right now?"

The woman paused, her ethereal calm suddenly breaking as her blonde hair, which had previously floated around her head as if defying gravity, fell limply to her sides. She blinked at him, her confident demeanor faltering as a look of genuine confusion crossed her face.

"What's an… Isekai?" she asked, her voice losing its booming authority.

Blake blinked back, dumbfounded. "You know, Isekai? When someone dies in one world and gets transported to another? Like, magic powers, kingdoms, quests, the usual stuff? Seriously, you've never heard of it?"

The woman stared blankly for a moment, her previous air of mysticism replaced by an awkward silence. Then, with a tilt of her head, she replied, "No… I am unfamiliar with this… Isekai you speak of." She looked almost embarrassed, her posture stiffening slightly.

Blake couldn't help but facepalm. "Great. Just my luck, I die and the celestial being responsible for my afterlife has never heard of one of the most popular tropes ever. Figures."

The woman straightened her robes, trying to regain some of her composure. "Regardless of what Isekai may be, this is not fiction, Blake Thompson. You've been chosen to embark on a new journey, whether you understand it or not."

Blake sighed, running a hand through his hair. "So, no reincarnation in a fantasy world with magic powers then?"

The woman hesitated, seeming to rethink her approach. "Well… perhaps not exactly as you imagine, but—"

"But," Blake interrupted with a smirk, "there's a but, isn't there?"

She gave him a long-suffering look, clearly unused to being interrupted. "Yes… there is a new world for you, and in it, you may indeed find powers far beyond your comprehension."

Blake crossed his arms, the tiniest flicker of excitement bubbling up despite the confusion. "Okay, now we're talking. So, what's the catch?"

"I don't know," she said, her voice suddenly nonchalant, as if she were discussing the weather. "I'm just the receptionist. The other guys in the offices handle all the bureaucratic stuff."

Blake blinked, completely thrown off. "Wait, you're serious? You're like… a cosmic receptionist?"

She shrugged, her blonde hair swaying slightly as if the whole thing was no big deal. "Yep. You're not my only 'client,' you know. People die all the time. I just point them in the right direction."

Blake couldn't believe what he was hearing. "So, all that dramatic stuff earlier was just… part of the job?"

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, please. You'd be surprised how much flair people expect when they end up in the afterlife. If I didn't do the whole 'booming voice' routine, they'd feel cheated. But really, I'm just here to make sure you don't wander off before the paperwork's processed."

Blake stared at her, completely flabbergasted. "So, what now? I just… wait?"

She glanced down at her wrist, which somehow had a shimmering, celestial-looking watch on it. "Yep, just give it a moment. Someone will be along to take you to your new world. Standard procedure."

Blake opened his mouth to argue but stopped, realizing that he didn't have a better grasp on the situation than she did. Instead, he sighed, rubbing his forehead. "This is insane. I thought after death it'd be all profound and mysterious."

The woman smirked. "Trust me, it's mostly paperwork and waiting. Even in the afterlife, you can't escape bureaucracy."

"Great," Blake muttered under his breath as he looked around at the strange, heaven-like… whatever this was. It wasn't exactly a room, but it wasn't not a room either. The walls were translucent, shimmering with a soft, celestial glow, but they didn't seem to have a defined shape. It was like being inside a cloud that decided to take a loose form for convenience.

"So, when do these pencil pushers show up?" he asked, his voice tinged with sarcasm.

The woman glanced at her ethereal watch again, seemingly unbothered by his attitude. "Shouldn't be too long now. They're usually pretty efficient, except on Fridays." She paused, then added thoughtfully, "Or during cosmic holidays."

Blake raised an eyebrow. "Cosmic holidays?"

She shrugged again. "You know, celestial alignment festivals, star-shifting days, the usual. Bureaucrats upstairs take their holidays seriously. But don't worry, I think you're good today."

Blake sighed and plopped down on what appeared to be an invisible chair, though he couldn't be sure. "So I'm just stuck here until they show up? No sneak peek at the next world, no 'this is your destiny' speech?"

The receptionist smiled knowingly. "Nope. Just sit tight. You'll be off to your new world soon enough, and trust me, once you're there, all this waiting will be the least of your concerns."

Blake leaned back and crossed his arms. "Yeah, that's reassuring."

The woman chuckled softly. "Think of it like this—once the paperwork is done, you'll be in a place where you can actually live out one of those Isekai stories you were talking about."

Blake perked up slightly, still skeptical but at least intrigued. "Guess there's worse ways to spend the afterlife."

"Oh yeah, definitely," the woman chuckled, and with a casual wave of her hand, two chairs and a coffee table appeared out of thin air. Without even touching him, Blake was nudged into one of the seats, as if guided by some unseen force. She sat down in the other, still laughing to herself.

"We have a special section here. It's for the clients who don't behave," she said in a hushed tone, her chuckling becoming almost sinister, though still oddly playful.

Blake raised an eyebrow. "So… there is a Hell in the afterlife?" he asked, his confusion growing.

"Not in the way you humans believe," she replied, leaning forward conspiratorially. "It isn't eternal fire, burning you constantly or anything like that. No…" she paused dramatically, her voice dropping to a whisper, "it's John."

Blake blinked, completely lost. "John?"

Her face remained deadly serious as she nodded. "Yes. John. We send the troublemakers to him, and trust me, it's worse than any fire and brimstone. John's an eternal… middle manager. A stickler for every rule, every form, every… single… detail. You cross the line, and suddenly you're filling out paperwork for all eternity while he explains everything. Slowly."

Blake stared at her, dumbfounded. "That sounds… horrific."

The woman gave a solemn nod. "Oh, it is. Imagine explaining your life choices to someone who's never satisfied with your answers. And then having to do it forever."

Blake shuddered, imagining the endless bureaucracy. "So… be good, or get sent to John?"

"Exactly," she said, smirking. "Now you understand why everyone behaves around here."

Blake slouched in his chair, processing the strange twist in the afterlife rules. "Guess that's one way to keep people in line."

The woman gave him a wink. "Welcome to the system."

Suddenly, a loud knock echoed through the space, startling Blake. He hadn't seen any doors around, so when one materialized out of thin air, his confusion only deepened. The door swung open to reveal a petite woman with raven-black hair neatly tied back, her glasses perched low on her nose as she glanced at Blake with a clipboard in hand.

"Blake Thompson?" she asked cautiously, her voice soft but firm.

"Y… Yes," Blake replied hesitantly, unsure of what was coming next. He sat up a little straighter, trying to compose himself.

The woman gave a small nod, glancing at her clipboard before adjusting her glasses. "You've been processed. It's time for your transition to the new world."

Blake exchanged a glance with the receptionist, who gave him a casual wave as if to say, told you so. He turned his attention back to the woman. "So… what happens now?"

The woman stepped aside, revealing what looked like a swirling, shimmering portal behind her. "You'll step through this portal, and from there, you'll enter your new life. Your assigned world has already been selected based on your experiences and… qualifications."

Blake stared at the portal, his heart pounding in his chest. This was it—his second chance, his Isekai, for real this time. "Wait, what qualifications? What kind of world am I going to?"

The woman adjusted her glasses again, not offering much more in the way of explanation. "All will be clear once you arrive."

Blake stood up slowly, glancing one last time at the receptionist, who smiled and gave him a thumbs-up. "Good luck, Blake," she said with a smirk. "Watch out for those twisty rules—and, you know, John."

With a deep breath, Blake stepped toward the portal, feeling the air around it hum with energy. He hesitated for a moment, taking in the surreal situation one last time before finally stepping through. The world swirled around him, pulling him into the unknown.

And just like that, Blake's new journey had begun.