Chapter 1 - I'm Dead?

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"Hurry Up!"

"You have already died, what is there to think about?"

"You have a powerful backing and are considered a supreme expert? That means nothing here. You are dead you moron. If you were so powerful, you wouldn't be here would you?"

A short, portly-looking man, face and tone oozing of sarcasm struck the body of the ghost hard with his meaty hand.

"Clearly, I must be dead. Judging by this troll of a man, it must not be heaven. Where exactly am I?"  Pierce Wynter appeared out of thin air. Despite having experienced a lot in his lifetime, and having been considered knowledgeable, Pierce Wynter is perplexed at his surrounding, as well as the intentions of this man.

"Quicker, and get back in line!" The unholy troll of a man growled at Pierce Wynter.

Pierce Wynter squeezed back into a tight cluster of specters.

Countless ghosts formed a line, resembling a long centipede slowly creeping forward. More ghosts would appear and join the end of the line, without pause. The expressions of these ghosts varied between faces full of boredom, anger, acceptance, fear, and sadness. The giant centipede made progress with sounds of groaning, cursing, crying, and gasps.

Pierce Wynter wondered just how many times this man had to usher new arrivals before he became this uncaring, hateful, steward of a man. Perhaps he was always this way.

"Remember, no matter how successful or powerful you were before, in death you are nothing. You are all the same, useless, slow, incompetent fucks. Now move your weightless asses. This line won't resolve itself", the steward quaked at the line of ghosts.

....

Time passed. Pierce Wynter walked for a very long time, not uttering a word. There was no way of telling time, but after a seemingly endless length of one ghost after the next being processed, Pierce Wynter found himself standing in front of an enormous desk. A list of names seemed to be projected into midair. Staring up, Pierce Wynter found his name glairing in bright translucent letters.

"Pierce Wynter", A quaking sound echoed all around the world. Oddly, none of the other countless ghosts seemed to notice anything going on. It was as if the sound, while seemingly vocalized to everyone around, was directed specifically to Pierce Wynter's ears. Taking a deep breath, Main Character stepped forward. "Beyond this point, you will be processed. Every action and thought from your life will be judged and weighed. For those of you who are deemed to be without worth, you will cease to exist, and your essence will be reused by this processing station. If it is any consolation, it will be benefitting many souls that will come after you", a tall muscular man pointing at Pierce Wynter's name proclaimed.

The tall muscular man appeared to be well over a hundred feet tall. He seemed like an enormous mountain, whose words weighed heavily on Pierce Wynter. "Pierce Wynter." the muscular mountain stared downwards, his eyes glowing and seemingly looking through Pierce's translucent soul. Pierce stood still, listless. Pierce looked up at this god of a man, mouth open, and resembling the entire persona of the village idiot.

A  glow from the eyes of the man encased Pierce's body, and Pierce Wynter disappeared from within the line of the ghosts. The next ghost in line was in a state of shock. Only after some time did they recover and hear their name being hollered from the man in his lofty chair. "Victor Arnette", screamed the mountain.

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