"No, no, NO!" Zen slammed his fist on the conference table. "I said the shipment goes to Jakarta FIRST, then Manila. Are you people too dumb that you can't read a map?"
The intern, some fresh-faced kid who'd probably never worked a real day in his life, stammered something about logistics software and route optimisation.
"I don't care what the software says!" Zen's voice echoed off the glass walls of the executive suite. "The software is a tool. YOU are supposed to think. That's why we hired humans instead of trained monkeys, though frankly, the monkeys would've figured this out by now. Do I have to do everything myself?!"
His assistant, Patricia, gently touched his elbow. "Mr. Arclight, maybe we should take a break…"
"A break?" Zen turned to face her. "We're forty-eight hours from the biggest product launch of the year, and these idiots just rerouted fifteen thousand units to the wrong hemisphere. Do you know what happens if we miss the delivery window? Do you?"
His chest felt tight… really tight, like someone had wrapped steel cables around his ribs and started to twist them.
"Sir, you don't look well," Patricia said, though for some reason, she sounded distant and muffled.
But Zen ignored her.
He pointed at the projected spreadsheet on the wall. "Fix it. All of you. I want a new routing plan on my desk in thirty minutes, or you're all…"
The pain hit him like a train crash. His left arm went numb, and the conference room felt like it was tilting sideways. He heard Patricia yelling his name and the scrape of chairs, but everything felt muffled, almost like it was underwater.
Zen's knees buckled, and the last thing he saw before his face hit the carpet was the intern's horrified expression and a half-eaten doughnut on the table.
His last thought as he passed away wasn't deep or complicated. It wasn't a reflection on his life or any regrets over the relationships he hadn't paid enough attention to.
It was a simple: I just want people who can actually follow orders or instructions; someone competent for once. Is that too much to ask?
Then everything went black.
—
The first thing Zen felt was wetness. The second was annoyance.
Thunder boomed right above him, sounding like the universe was having a fit, and Zen groaned as he sat up. Rain was pouring in through a broken stone roof, drenching his clothes and pooling in his shoes.
He blinked and looked around. He saw stone ruins everywhere covered in moss, with glowing symbols on the walls.
Where am I?
He suddenly recalled everything: the conference room, the sharp pain in his chest, Patricia's screams, and the carpet rushing to meet his face.
Oh. Am I… dead? He asked himself, looking around again.
Zen touched his chest; there was no pain. He flexed his left arm; it moved perfectly. He took a deep breath, and he felt an easy, relaxed sensation with no tightness.
"I'm… I'm dead," he concluded, knowing there was no other explanation. He had died from a stress-induced heart failure or stroke. He looked up at the rain pouring through the broken roof. "And apparently, the afterlife has a leak."
He rubbed his face, waiting for the existential crisis to kick in; it didn't. Instead, he felt that old, familiar irritation moving up his spine… the same feeling he'd had every Monday morning for the last twenty years.
The place looked like an old temple. The pillars were crumbling, and glowing runes that flickered like dying light bulbs. There was structural damage everywhere, and there were no evacuation signs. It was definitely not up to code.
"This is purgatory," Zen decided. "Has to be. They're making me suffer in a building with no proper maintenance budget."
[System Booting...]
[Welcome Back, Super Admin. Session Resumed.]
[Initialising Domination Protocols...]
A translucent blue screen popped up in front of his face. Zen swiped at it like it was a spam email.
"Not interested," he said. "Whatever you're selling, I don't want it. I just want dry clothes and a place to sleep that doesn't smell like mould."
The screen flickered but didn't disappear.
[You cannot decline. Integration is mandatory.]
"Of course it is," Zen muttered, standing up.
His joints popped.
Even his afterlife twenty-five-year-old body felt seventy-five years old. "Can't even die without someone forcing a user agreement down my throat."
He stepped forward, his wet shoes making a squishing noise, and that's when the wall exploded.
CRASH.
Stone and dust sprayed everywhere, but Zen didn't flinch… he just stood there, covered in debris, staring at the massive hole that had just appeared in the temple wall. 'I'm dead already, so why should I bother?'
Something stepped out of the smoke. It was huge, about the size of a delivery truck. Its body was covered in shiny, crystal-like armour that glowed with a purple light.
It had six bright eyes, teeth like sharp knives, and claws that scratched deep lines into the stone floor as it walked.
It looked at Zen, and he looked back at it.
The beast snarled, saliva dripping from its jaws, hissing where it hit the ground.
Zen glanced at the dust now covering his already-wet shirt, then back at the monster. "Are you supposed to be my escort or something?"
The beast let out a loud roar.
"You're loud," Zen said flatly. "And you just made a mess."
The beast paused, tilting its head to give a confused look. Its prey wasn't supposed to sound bored.
It crouched down, its muscles tensing as it got ready to pounce.
Zen simply sighed.
He was tired and wet, and this oversized gecko was blocking the only exit that didn't have rain pouring through it.
"Look," Zen said, pointing at a massive pile of rubble near the doorway. "If you're going to be here, at least make yourself useful."
He didn't shout or threaten; he just said it the way he'd said everything for the last decade: with the absolute certainty of a man who expected to be obeyed because the alternative was unthinkable.
Just then, the blue screen from before appeared in his vision again, this time with the text:
[Skill Activated: Sovereign's Voice]
"Uhn? The fvck is this?"