Ethan Hale died on a Tuesday.
There was no thunderclap. No dramatic final words. No warning.
One moment he was sitting at his desk in his cramped apartment, the glow of his laptop reflecting in tired hazel eyes. The next, his heart simply… stopped.
Silence swallowed the room.
Then the world split open.
Darkness peeled back like fabric, revealing a vast expanse of silver mist. Ethan felt weightless, suspended between heartbeats that no longer existed. Before him stood a towering figure cloaked in obsidian robes that shimmered like a starless sky.
Eyes like dying suns regarded him.
"I see," the figure murmured. "This is… unfortunate."
Ethan blinked. "Am I dead?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
The figure paused.
"…Administrative error."
Ethan stared.
The being sighed—a sound like wind through tombstones.
"I am Thanaros, God of Death. You were not scheduled to expire for another sixty-three years. A clerical misalignment in the Threads of Fate resulted in your termination."
"So you… killed me by accident?"
"Yes."
There was a long silence.
"Can you un-kill me?" Ethan asked.
"No."
"That seems unfair."
"It is."
Thanaros extended a pale hand, and the void rippled.
"As compensation, I will bestow upon you three gifts."
The darkness shimmered—and something changed inside Ethan.
First Gift: The System
A translucent interface materialized before Ethan's eyes.
[SYSTEM INITIALIZED]
User: Ethan Hale
Level: 1
Class: Undefined
Mana Core: Dormant
Authority: Minor (Death-touched)
Primary Function: Accelerated Growth
Secondary Function: Calamity Adaptation
Hidden Protocols: Locked
Ethan reached out instinctively. The panel responded to his thoughts.
"What is this?" he asked.
"A system beyond mortal design," Thanaros replied. "It will quantify your existence. Track your growth. Optimize your potential."
"Like a game?"
"Games imitate reality. This… governs it."
A faint pulse echoed in Ethan's chest—like something waiting to awaken.
Second Gift: Calamity Affinity
"Second," Thanaros continued, "you will possess Calamity Affinity. When disaster strikes, your power will rise to meet it."
"Define disaster," Ethan said carefully.
"Anything capable of killing you."
"That seems like a wide category."
"Yes."
"Is this going to attract disasters?"
Thanaros did not answer.
Ethan narrowed his eyes. "It's going to attract disasters, isn't it?"
"…It may increase the statistical likelihood of high-intensity scenarios."
"Great."
Third Gift: Stolen Time
"And third?" Ethan asked.
Thanaros's eyes glowed faintly.
"You will not age beyond twenty-two unless you choose to."
Ethan blinked. "So I'm immortal?"
"No. You may still die."
"Comforting."
"You will simply… remain at your physical prime."
Ethan considered this. Eternal youth. Infinite growth. Disaster-powered evolution.
"What's the catch?"
Thanaros was silent for a long moment.
"You will be sent to Ethereal."
The name echoed like a bell through the void.
"What's Ethereal?"
"A world where gods walk unseen. Where magic bleeds through the soil. Where empires rise and collapse in centuries."
"That sounds dangerous."
"It is."
The void beneath Ethan's feet shattered like glass.
"Wait—"
Thanaros raised a hand.
"One more thing, Ethan Hale."
The god's voice softened—almost regretful.
"You will not be the only anomaly."
And Ethan fell.