Kevin's point of view:
It had been so long since I started training. Years? Decades? Centuries? Time had lost all meaning in the void. But somewhere along the way, I realized I'd forgotten something crucial.
Mental defenses.
If this was my mindscape—my sanctuary—what was stopping something from just... walking in? The thought had hit me like a lightning bolt during one of my meditation sessions. I'd been so focused on building skills, mastering weapons, creating environments... I'd left the front door wide open.
So I got to work.
The first layer was simple. Humble, even. A massive brick wall stretched across the border of my mindscape, thick and unassuming. But I'd learned something valuable during my endless training: never show your full hand.
Hidden within those bricks, nestled between mortar and stone, I planted surprises. Simple bombs triggered by unauthorized entry. Electric discharges waiting to greet uninvited guests. Nothing flashy—just enough to make an intruder regret their life choices.
Layer by layer, I built upward and inward.
The second layer took inspiration from Mt. Moon. Caves of winding passages filled with Zubats—not real ones, but constructs of my making. They served as alarms more than attackers, their shrieks echoing through tunnels designed to confuse and disorient.
The third layer became a haunted Pokémon Tower. Not to harm, but to test resolve. Ghost-type projections drifted through corridors, forcing any invader to confront fear itself. If you couldn't face illusions, you didn't deserve to reach the heart of my mind.
Layer four transformed into a volcanic battlefield, reminiscent of the clash between Charizard and Magmar. Heat shimmered across vast magma chambers. Platforms shifted and sank. Only those who could adapt to changing terrain would proceed.
Layer five drew from memories of the Sprout Tower—a massive wooden structure where balance was everything. Floors tilted. Pillars swung. One wrong step meant falling back to the beginning. Persistence mattered here. Patience mattered.
Layer six became a frozen tundra of the Seafoam Islands. Blizzards reduced visibility. Ice shifted beneath your feet. Puzzles required solving while hypothermia—conceptual, but real within this space—slowed your mind.
The seventh and final layer...
I paused each time I reached it during construction. This one was personal. A simple replica of my childhood bedroom. Everything exactly as I remembered it. My bed. My posters. My gaming setup. The window overlooking a street where children played and parents watched and life happened without me.
If someone reached this layer and felt nothing—if they could walk through this room without understanding what it meant—then they didn't deserve to meet me.
And if they did understand? If they recognized the loneliness woven into every detail, the longing painted on every wall?
Maybe... maybe I'd want to meet them.
---
I discovered something interesting while building my defenses. The best way to create was through meditation. Deep, complete concentration while visualizing each layer brick by brick, Zubat by Zubat, ice crystal by ice crystal.
The more I meditated, the more at home I felt.
Sometimes, a strange energy would envelop me during these sessions. It wasn't anything I summoned or controlled. It simply... arrived. Wrapping around me like a warm blanket, relaxing me so completely that I slipped into trances that could've lasted moments or millennia. It just felt right. Like being held by someone who cared.
I never really questioned it. In a place built entirely from my mind, what was one more mystery?
---
But even with my fortress complete, even with every skill mastered and every weapon perfected...
The lack of interaction was killing me.
Not literally—I was already dead, apparently—but something inside me withered more each day. No voices. No faces. No unexpected moments shared with another person. Just me, my thoughts, and the echoes of stories I'd consumed in another life.
I needed to know if anything else existed out there.
One day—cycle? eternity?—I decided to leave my mindscape for the first time since entering the void.
Stepping through my final layer felt strange. Like leaving home without knowing if you could return. But I did it anyway, pushing past the boundaries I'd created and emerging into...
Different.
The void had changed.
Where endless black had once stretched in every direction, purple now colored the expanse like a bruise across reality. Fragments of stars drifted past—not whole constellations, but shattered pieces glittering with dying light. Broken galaxies spun slowly in the distance, their arms torn and spiraling into nothing.
I floated there, taking it in, when something else caught my attention.
A tear.
Reality split open maybe fifty feet away, edges glowing with raw energy. And through that tear, I felt myself being pulled—not violently, but irresistibly, like a current dragging me toward shore.
I adjusted mid-drift, twisting to face the direction of travel. If something waited on the other side, I'd meet it ready.
The tear swallowed me.
Light exploded around my vision. I twisted, oriented, and—
THUD.
My feet slammed into solid ground. Instinct took over. My body folded into a three-point stance, one fist driven into the surface beneath me as if I'd just punched the earth itself. One knee bent low, the other leg braced behind me. My body twisted slightly, one arm cocked back—ready to rise or strike again in the same breath.
Cracks spiderwebbed outward from my impact point. Then, slowly, they began repairing themselves.
I rose to my full height, scanning my surroundings.
White. Endless white. A room without walls, without ceiling, without boundaries. Just pure, seamless white stretching in every direction.
No immediate threats.
But I stayed ready anyway. My training had given me technique, precision, mastery over weapons I couldn't currently summon. But more importantly, it had given me awareness. I might not have power—whatever that meant in this context—but I could defend myself. I was sure of it.
Then I heard it.
Sniffling.
I looked down.
A woman knelt before me, her head bowed, shoulders shaking with quiet sobs. She wore a Roman-style dress, pure white with golden highlights that caught some invisible light source. Her hands were clasped together in her lap, fingers trembling.
"I'm so sorry," she whispered. "I'm so, so sorry. I lost you. It's my fault. All my fault."
I tilted my head, confusion washing through me.
I then knelt down, bringing myself to her level.
Why is she apologizing to me? The thought circled in my mind. I've never met her before in my life.
"Hey," I said gently, reaching out to take her trembling hands in mine. "There's no need to apologize. Whatever you think you've done—"
She finally looked up. Red-rimmed eyes. Cheeks stained with tears. A face so full of guilt it physically hurt to witness.
I helped her stand, keeping one hand on her arm to steady her. When she wobbled slightly, I did something that surprised even me—I reached up and patted her head, the way I'd seen mothers do to frightened children in memories long past.
"How about we sit down somewhere," I said softly, "and you can explain to me what happened. And why you took me away from my home in the void."
She froze as soon as those words left my mouth.
Every muscle in her body went rigid. Her eyes widened, something flashing through them—fear? Recognition? Confusion? It was there and gone in an instant, but I caught it.
I tilted my head, studying her reaction. But she shook it off quickly, forcing a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.
"Yeah," she said, her voice slightly too high. "A place to sit....Right."
Did I say something wrong?
She then snapped her fingers.
Suddenly, I was seated in a comfortable chair—rich fabric, sturdy arms, exactly the kind of chair you could sink into for hours. Across from me, she sat in an identical one, her hands now folded in her lap, her expression more composed but still fragile around the edges.
Whatever explanation she was about to give me felt like it would be enlightening.
I leaned forward slightly. "Forgive me if I sound detached. My time in the void changed me... my emotions have become numb. It's been difficult to feel much of anything."
She blinked, and for a moment, the guilt in her eyes softened into something like sympathy. "I could fix that, if you'd like?"
The offer hung in the air between us.
I considered it. The numbness had protected me, in a way. Made the endless solitude bearable. But it had also stolen something essential—the warmth of joy, the sharpness of sadness, the quiet comfort of simply feeling alive.
"Yes," I said. "I'd like that."
She rose from her chair and crossed the short distance between us. Her hand pressed gently against the top of my head, warm and solid and real in a way nothing had felt since I'd arrived in this place.
She snapped her fingers.
And something returned.
It rushed through me like water breaking through a dam—sensation, emotion, the raw experience of feeling after what had felt like millennia of numbness. Joy flickered. Sadness ached. Curiosity sparked. Loneliness whispered. They were all there, all present, all mine again.
I breathed out slowly, and for the first time in what felt like forever, I smiled. A real smile. The kind that reached my eyes and warmed my chest.
"Well," I said, "that was quick. Thank you."
She quickly returned to her chair, watching me with an expression I couldn't quite read.
"It's been so long since I actually felt anything," I admitted. "Let's me introduce myself properly. I'm Kevin."
She straightened slightly, and when she spoke, her voice carried a weight that hadn't been there before. "My name is Eirene and I am a goddess I am specifically, I'm in charge of ensuring human souls reach the afterlife safely."
I waited. There was more coming; I could feel it.
"The reason I was apologizing," she continued, her voice cracking slightly, "is because while you were in transport to the afterlife, we were attacked. An evil god ambushed us. And because of that attack..." She swallowed hard. "You were lost in the void. For thousands of years."
I blinked. "Thousands?"
"Nearly three thousand years, Kevin." Tears welled in her eyes again. "I thought that when I finally found you, your soul would be in pieces. Scattered. Broken. I thought I'd be collecting fragments of who you used to be, trying desperately to piece you back together." A tear escaped, rolling down her cheek. "But instead... you're whole. You're here. I don't understand how, but your soul remained completely intact despite everything. It's... it's a Devine miracle."
I stared at her for a long moment.
Three thousand years.
The number hung in the air between us, heavy with implications I couldn't fully process. Three thousand years alone in that void. Three thousand years of training, building, slowly losing myself to numbness. And this woman—this goddess—had been searching for me that entire time.
But she was crying. Blaming herself.
Something stirred in my chest—that renewed sense of feeling she'd just given back to me. And what I felt most wasn't shock or anger at the lost time. It was... concern. For her.
"Hey." I leaned forward, my voice gentle. "Relax. It's not your fault you got attacked."
Her red-rimmed eyes met mine, surprise flickering across her features.
I smiled—a real smile, warm and reassuring. "Plus, you're too beautiful to be crying over a simple mistake like that." The words came out naturally, without pretense or flattery. Just truth. "Now smile, please."
For a heartbeat, she stared at me like I'd spoken a foreign language. Then slowly—so slowly—the corners of her lips trembled upward. A genuine smile broke through the tears, transforming her face into something radiant.
Before I could react, she crossed the space between us and wrapped her arms around me in a tight hug. I stiffened for just a moment—how long had it been since anyone had touched me with warmth?—then relaxed into it, my own arms coming up to return the embrace.
"Thank you," she whispered against my shoulder. "For forgiving me. For not being angry. For..." She pulled back slightly, those eyes searching mine. "For being whole when I was so sure I'd lost you."
I shrugged, the motion feeling more natural than it had in millennia. "Eh, no problem. But now that I'm here with you..." I tilted my head, curiosity replacing comfort. "What's going to happen to me?"
Eirene released me and settled back into her chair, composing herself with visible effort. When she spoke, her voice had regained some of that divine weight—but warmth still lingered underneath.
"You have two choices, Kevin." She held up one finger. "Option one: you can go to Heaven, as you were originally supposed to. Peace. Comfort. Reunion with loved ones who passed before you." Her expression softened. "It's what most souls choose."
She raised a second finger. "Or... you could choose the more fun option. Reincarnation." A hint of mischief danced in her eyes. "But if you choose this one, it can't be the world you originally come from. Your next life would begin somewhere... different."
I didn't hesitate.
A smile spread across my face—wide and genuine and filled with something I hadn't felt in thousands of years: excitement. "That's a simple choice. I choose option two."
Eirene's face lit up like sunrise breaking through clouds. "Great! That's the best choice, in my opinion!"
She stood abruptly, and I noticed for the first time that she now held a device in her hand—sleek and metallic, with symbols that shifted and flowed like living liquid. It hadn't been there a moment ago.
"What does that do?" I asked, rising as well.
She raised the device and pointed it at me. A soft blue light washed over my body, warm and tingling like standing in filtered sunlight. "It scans your soul," she explained, watching readings I couldn't see. "And based on what it finds—your essence, your memories, your deepest affinities—it chooses the world that best suits you."
I watched the symbols dance across its surface, fascinated. "That's rather useful."
"Mmhmm." Eirene's eyes widened slightly as she read the results. Then her smile grew impossibly brighter. "Oh! The world that was chosen is the Pokémon world. Kevin, that's great! You'll love it there—it's perfect for someone like you."
Something warm bloomed in my chest. Pokémon. After all those years watching from my mind palace, all those episodes replayed in solitude... I'd actually get to live there.
"Before I send you to your new life," Eirene continued, her tone shifting to something more serious, "I'm going to give you what many call a 'Golden Finger.' A little something to give you an edge."
I opened my mouth, but she held up a hand.
"Now, don't expect it to make your life easy." She fixed me with a knowing look. "From what I can see here..." She gestured vaguely at the scans, at me, at everything. "You don't like handouts. So this system won't give them to you. You'll have to work, and bleed, and win battles in order to continue forward. Understood?"
My grin returned, sharper now. Determined. "That's perfect."
She nodded approvingly, then paused. "Is there anything else I can help you with? Any requests before you begin your new journey?"
I considered for a moment. Three thousand years of solitude had taught me what truly mattered. What I'd always wanted but never had.
"Yeah," I said quietly. "Can you make it so I'm born to a family that will actually care for me?" I met her eyes, letting her see the honesty there. "I always wanted a family. Never got one in my last life." I shook my head quickly. "They don't need to be rich or anything. Actually, I'd prefer if they weren't. I want to build my own fortune—that and I don't want to deal with rich politics." A small, self-deprecating laugh escaped me. "Also, I'd like to eliminate whatever percentage chance there is of me becoming one of those rich stockup types. That's... not who I want to be."
Eirene's expression softened into something tender and maternal. She reached out and cupped my cheek for just a moment, her palm warm against my skin.
"Of course, Kevin." Her voice was barely above a whisper. "Now go. Enjoy your new life."
She snapped her fingers.
And then all I saw was white.