Dying at sixteen sucked.
But somehow, it sucked even more to be floating in soul form, watching two godlike beings talk trash about my short, uneventful life—like I was some kind of cosmic joke.
My name is Sylas Stone. I was a high school student—until I dropped out.
I stopped going because of the bullying. Too many punches, too much humiliation. Eventually, I just… gave up.
So for the next three years, I stayed locked in my room. Binge-watching movies, grinding through video games, and occasionally zoning out while staring at my standing fan—because, hey, maybe it held the answers to life.
And then I died.
How? Oh, real simple. After hours of gaming, I finally stood up to take a piss.
Then...
BAM.
A searing pain exploded in my chest, like someone had just stabbed me with a red-hot knife. My vision blurred. My legs buckled.
And just like that, I was gone.
I thought only old people had heart attacks.
Hmm
Turns out, I was wrong.
The next thing I knew—I was here.
A floating blob.
Or, as I like to call it—soul form.
Weightless. Drifting. Completely at the mercy of whatever cosmic forces decided my fate.
In front of me stood two towering figures, their bodies shifting like swirling shadows, radiating an energy that felt ancient and impossibly powerful.
Their presence was overwhelming. Not in a holy and divine way, but in a we-could-snap-you-out-of-existence-and-not-care kind of way.
One of them lazily stroked his chin, staring at me like I was a math problem he didn't feel like solving.
"I don't understand..." His voice was deep, almost vibrating through the space around us. "How did this one get here?"
His assistant, smaller but just as eerie, shot him a confused glance. "What do you mean, sir?"
God—or at least, that's what he called himself—narrowed his glowing eyes. "This has never happened before."
Then, without warning, he leaned in.
His massive, shadowy form swallowed my vision, suffocatingly close.
Every instinct screamed at me to back away, to flinch, to move.
But my soul form was frozen.
The assistant still looked lost. His shadowy form flickered slightly. "I still don't understand what you mean, sir."
God let out a heavy sigh, shaking his head like he was so over this. "Yep, I'm right. It's a dud."
A spark of rage shot through me. "Pardon… who TF are you calling a dud?"
I tried to lunge forward, to do something—anything.
But nope. My soul just hovered there. Completely motionless.
Seriously. This sucked.
The assistant tilted his head. "What's a dud?"
God exhaled sharply, like he couldn't believe he had to explain this. "I only reincarnate souls that have accomplished noteworthy feats on Earth. So why is such an incompetent soul standing in front of me?"
Ouch.
No need to be that rude, man.
The assistant shifted awkwardly. "What do we do now?"
God tapped his chin, lost in thought. Then, with a casual wave of his hand, he made his decision. "Send it to Eldoria."
A beat of silence.
…Wait.
What?
"Eldoria?" The word tumbled out of me before I could stop it. "What even is that?"
It sounded like something ripped straight from a fantasy RPG. Magic. Knights. Monsters. Probably a whole lot of trouble.
And somehow, I had a bad feeling I wasn't getting an overpowered protagonist treatment.
The assistant blinked, then gave a slow nod. "Alright."
There was a pause.
Then God added, almost as an afterthought—
"But as a troll."
…Wait.
What?
That came out of nowhere.
A troll?
Even the assistant seemed thrown off.
His shadowy form flickered slightly, as if processing the absurdity of the command.
After a moment, he hesitated, then asked, "Why do that? Why not just return it to the path since its appearance here was a mistake?"
God's voice was calm, but absolute. "We don't reject fate—we accept it and make decisions. This soul came here for a reason, so we assign it a world. Besides…" His gaze drifted to me, eyes unreadable. "He'd definitely be heading to the Inferno anyway. This is a favor."
Okay, I get it.
You pity me.
You're trying to save me from hell.
But seriously, why a troll?
Do you hate me or something?
The assistant hesitated, then finally voiced the exact thought running through my head. "Why a troll, though? Why not a human?"
Mentally, I gave him a thumbs-up. Yes! Finally, someone with common sense.
He wasn't done. His voice carried a hint of concern. "Trolls are the most hated species in Eldoria. The humans and other races will give him a hard time."
I swallowed. That… didn't sound great.
God remained unfazed. His tone was calm, yet absolute. "That's exactly why. Assigning him without him doing anything noteworthy is already a stretch. He needs to earn his stripes. Who knows? This might even turn him into a hero."
Hero? Yeah, right. My foot.
I was about to become an ugly, damned troll.
The assistant sighed, shoulders dropping slightly. "Fine."
Wait—what? No! Don't just agree!
I don't agree, man! Defend me! Say something! Do anything!
But no one listened.
The assistant barely hesitated before moving on, as if sentencing me to trollhood was no big deal. "What kind of troll should he become? And what class should he get?"
God simply shrugged. "I'll leave that up to you."
My stomach—wait, do souls even have stomachs?—twisted.
No. Leave it to me.
I played way too many video games to let someone else handle this.
I knew how this worked.
This wasn't just a game—this was my life.
Shouldn't I get to create my own character?
But no one listened.
The damned assistant was already on it.
Lifting his hands, he started typing on thin air, like he was tapping away on an invisible iPad.
His fingers moved with precision, his face blank, like he was just checking off another routine task.
Meanwhile, I was not okay.
I chewed at my imaginary nails—curious, worried, confused, and half convinced this was just some insane dream.
Seconds passed.
Then, without even glancing up, the assistant muttered, "It's done."
Wait.
That was it?
So soon?
That was way too fast. Shouldn't he put more thought into it? Maybe tweak a few things? Give me a cheat or two or something?
But no, Just like that, it was decided.
God turned to me, his voice absolute. "Alright, Sylas Stone. You will be reborn as a forest troll with the barbarian class. Good luck."
A forest troll? Barbarian class?
What else?
I vanished without answers.
One second, I was floating in that weird void.
The next, I was standing in a clearing, surrounded by towering trees and thick vegetation.
Sunlight filtered through the dense canopy, casting shifting patterns on the forest floor.
And that's when I noticed—something felt off.
I looked down at my hands.
They were massive, covered in rough, greenish skin. My fingers ended in thick, claw-like nails.
My body felt heavier, bulkier.
A weird, musky scent clung to me.
I was a troll.
A forest troll, to be precise.
From what I knew, forest trolls were fast, strong, and masters of camouflage.
They thrived deep in the wild, blending into their surroundings like ghosts.
Oh, and one more thing—they were ugly as hell.
I let out a long sigh, but even that felt different. My breath came out deep and guttural, like a low growl.
Then, suddenly, a glowing blue box popped up in front of me.
Ding!
[Welcome, Sylas Stone, to Eldoria]
[Good luck on your adventure]
[To aid you, you have received: The System]
I blinked.
Then, slowly, a grin spread across my face.
Okay, maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all.