1 Chapter 1: Death

"Fuckkkkkk!" The roar erupted from the young man's lips as his eyes remained locked on the screen, the dreaded message "You Died" flashing on his monitor. His competitive video game session had ended in frustration. Slamming his fist on the table, he shut down the game and decided to immerse himself in another world – the pages of a Vinland Saga manga. Though he was a devoted manga fan, he found himself begrudgingly admitting that Vinland Saga had its merits, and was one of the best he had ever read. The hours passed, and the night wore on, giving way to the gradual rise of the sun.

Stretching his arms high above his head, the shirtless young man revealed a body that could have been chiseled by the gods themselves. His untamed blonde hair added to his rugged charm, while his golden eyes flickered open, surveying the king-sized bed where a woman lay. With a body like a masterpiece, she was a vision of beauty, her black hair cascading over her back as she slumbered in a nightgown. The room's aura seemed to shimmer with the afterglow of their past interactions.

Approaching the bed, the man roused the woman from her sleep. Yawning and stretching, she met his gaze with a sleepy smile. His cold demeanor, however, remained steadfast in the face of her undeniable allure. "Good morning," she greeted, her voice tinged with a hint of melancholy. Her beauty was breathtaking, yet his heart remained untouched, immune to her charms.

"Please, take a shower, wear your clothes, and leave the house," his voice was stern, devoid of warmth. Her reaction was one of sadness mixed with resignation. The previous day had forged a connection between them, but he had warned her it was a fleeting affair. Her plea fell on deaf ears as he reiterated his resolve. The woman's sigh carried the weight of understanding, her heart acknowledging the inevitable end.

She slipped into the bathroom, the sound of running water filling the air like a soothing melody. Time flowed by, painting moments in water droplets and steam. Gradually, she emerged, donning a casual ensemble that accentuated her allure. Drawing closer to the man, her steps were delicate, each movement a dance of anticipation. With a subtle rise on her toes, she bridged the gap in height and bestowed a kiss upon his lips.

In that fleeting instant, his heart – as cold as Arctic ice – defied its nature, stirring in a way he hadn't thought possible. It was a tremor of emotion, a tremble in the depths of his being, like a distant thunderclap breaking the stillness of night. As she turned toward the exit, her voice painted soft brushstrokes on the air, whispering, "Goodbye, Jackson." The echo of her departure lingered, painting the room with a bittersweet resonance.

Finally alone, the man named Jackson reclined on the bed, gazing at the spot where the woman had rested. This was the familiar pattern of his existence – passionate encounters followed by solitude. Long-lasting relationships were not his domain, for he knew he was ill-equipped to offer what they sought. As sleep beckoned him, an unsettling tremor disrupted the tranquility.

The world quaked, the floor trembling beneath him. Dismissing it as fatigue-induced hallucinations, he closed his eyes to welcome slumber. But destiny had a different path in mind. Without warning, the ceiling above him gave way, a torrent of destruction crashing down. His eyes shot open, terror flooding him, but it was too late. The ceiling's descent was swift and brutal, snuffing out his existence in an instant.

Turns out, the shaking from earlier wasn't just a product of his sleep-deprived mind. It was an earthquake, and the frail ceiling above him proved no match for the earth's violent tremors. In a tragic twist of fate, the ceiling crumbled, its feeble structure unable to endure the seismic forces. And so, he descended into an eternal slumber – or did he? The question hung in the air, a tantalizing hint at the mysteries that stretched beyond the veil of reality.