In a place outside time, outside religion, and definitely outside administrative efficiency…
There was a very long queue.
"NUMBER 3,685,479!"
He looked like someone pulled straight out of an ancient battlefield, disciplined posture, sharp gaze, the kind of presence that made silence feel necessary.
Except…
There was a small problem.
He was chewing something.
A tiny, brightly colored candy rolled in his mouth as if it belonged there more than any battlefield ever did.
He calmly stepped forward.
"Present," he said, voice firm, authoritative…
crunch.
A faint candy crack echoed.
The clerk blinked.
"Name?"
"Leonidas."
"Last name?"
"I do not have a last name."
crunch.
"Next."
"Wait," the warrior frowned slightly, still chewing. "I am King Leonidas. Sparta. Thermopylae. I led..."
"Sir," the clerk interrupted, already tired, "we don't have a dropdown option for that."
Leonidas paused again.
Not because he was offended.
But because he was currently deciding whether the candy should be swallowed or savored longer.
He chose savoring.
At the side of the queue, he had actually been talking casually with other souls waiting their turn.
To a confused medieval knight:
"Do you also consume these… 'candies'?" Leonidas asked seriously.
The knight blinked. "I… I died in battle, my lord."
Leonidas nodded once. "Unfortunate. You missed sugar."
He offered one of his candies.
The knight hesitated, then took it.
Ten seconds later:
"Why is this more powerful than wine?"
Leonidas nodded with quiet approval.
"Yes."
A man nearby whispered, "He's been like that the entire queue."
Another soul added, "He traded three pieces of advice about war tactics for a handful of sweets."
Leonidas overheard and corrected calmly:
"It was a fair exchange."
crunch.
Back at the desk, the clerk glanced between the towering warrior and the candy wrapper collection quietly accumulating in his hand.
"You know you're supposed to be intimidating, right?" the clerk muttered.
Leonidas looked genuinely confused. "I am."
Then, after a pause, "Do you have more of these?"
At the side of the queue, a man stood grinning like he knew everything about everything.
Long beard. Messy aura. Suspiciously confident.
"A new recruit," the man said, peeking at Leonidas.
Only then did Rasputin, standing nearby, grin wider.
"Oh," he said softly, observing the scene.
"So the great King of Sparta… has a weakness."
Leonidas turned slightly. "This is not a weakness." He held up another candy. "This is strategy. Oh wait, who are you?" the Spartan asked.
"Me? I am Rasputin."
"Occupation?"
"Survivor. Prophet. Therapist. Depends on the mood."
Leonidas paused.
"That is not an occupation."
"Tell that to history," Rasputin replied calmly.
At the desk, a man in white sighed heavily.
"Next please."
Saint Peter.
He was holding a folder that looked like it contained the weight of eternity itself. Stamped, corrected, re-stamped, and barely holding together.
"Reincarnation application. Any special requests?"
Leonidas spoke first.
"I want to retain all my memories. I will conquer whatever world you send me to."
Saint Peter looked at him.
"Noted. Anything else?"
Rasputin raised his hand.
"I want to be with him."
"Why?" Saint Peter asked.
"Balance," Rasputin said. "War without wisdom is chaos. Wisdom without war is boring."
Saint Peter stared at both of them for a long moment.
"This is not a buddy system." Rasputin smiled.
"Now it is."
A pause.
Then Saint Peter sighed again. "Fine. Next world assignment: Modern Earth. Crime-based ecosystem. Multiple faction instability. Good luck."
He stamped the papers.
"Next!"
As their files were processed and dragged into the reincarnation system, Leonidas muttered one final line:
"I do not understand this system… but I will master it."
Rasputin added softly:
"Oh, my Spartan friend… we will not just master it."
He grinned.
"We will confuse it."
And that was how the most problematic reincarnation request in history was approved.
They did not know it yet…
But the modern world was about to meet two men who never learned how to follow rules.
One trained for war. The other one trained for miracles, both trained for chaos.