The afterlife, as it turns out, didn't involve pearly gates, harps, or a welcoming committee of long-lost relatives. For Ethan, it involved a throbbing jaw and the crushing realization that his final mont on Earth was absolute, bottom-tier trash.
Most protagonists in these stories died saving a child from a speeding truck or pushing an old lady out of the way of a falling piano. Not Ethan. Ethan died because so holess bum found the 7-Eleven burger in his hand very appealing and decided that a bullet was a fair trade for a patty of questionable at and a lukewarm soda.
Even so holess bum has a gun here. God help Arica, Ethan thought bitterly. Dying over a discount burger. The Yelp review for my life is going to be one star, tops. And please, if there's any justice in the universe, let a freak electrical fire destroy my hard drive before my parents find that 'Study' folder.
Then, the gray void snapped into high definition.
The air was suddenly crisp, slling of old parchnt, mountain air, and expensive incense. Ethan blinked, his vision clearing to reveal a polished floor and a pair of very calm, very yellow robes. He looked up, his eyes traveling past a slender neck to a face that sent a jolt of pure adrenaline through his system.
Sitting cross-legged on a raised dais was a woman. She was bald, serene, and radiating a level of "don't ss with " energy that made a prison warden look like a preschool teacher.
Ethan froze. He recognized that face. He'd seen it in IMAX.
The Sorcerer Supre. The Ancient One.
At that mont, the Ancient One's eyes were closed, but the heavy circular dallion around her neck—the Eye of Agamotto—was very much awake. It clicked open, spinning with clockwork precision, and the Ti Stone within began to pulse with an eerie, rhythmic green light.
A single bead of sweat traced a slow, agonizing path down Ethan's forehead.
Okay, Ethan. Think. You just transmigrated into the MCU. You are currently staring at the woman whose entire job description is 'Delete Interdinsional Trash.' And right now? You are the trash.
He glanced toward the east, looking for an exit, a window, or perhaps a convenient portal to literally anywhere else. The Ancient One's eyes snapped open.
Whoosh!
Ethan imdiately straightened his spine, sucking in his gut and adopting an expression of profound, scholarly seriousness. He looked like a man who spent his weekends volunteering at orphanages rather than getting KO'd in dive bars.
"You co from another universe," she said. Her voice was calm, but it had a certain "I see through your nonsense" resonance.
Ethan didn't flinch. He'd already deduced she'd know. You don't just drop into the sanctum of a woman who spends her Tuesday nights fighting Shuma-Gorath and expect to go unnoticed.
"I... may have taken a wrong turn at the afterlife," Ethan managed. He felt a sudden surge of bitterness. Where is my system? My cheat? My grand opening gift? Other transmigrators get god-tier skills and a harem of beauties. I get caught before I even finish my first breath.
"I don't know how I got here," he added, his voice dropping an octave as he tried to look pathetic. "Can you maybe… send back?"
The Ancient One took a slow sip of tea, the steam curling around her bald head like a halo. She shook her head slowly. "I can't. Or rather, it is not possible. The path you took was a one-way bridge that collapsed behind you."
She leaned forward, her eyes scanning him like a biological X-ray. "I have seen many who ca from other dinsions. So had good intentions, so were full of darkness… but all had sothing special in them. And you…"
She paused. Ethan felt his heart hamr against his ribs.
"I'm… just an ordinary guy, honestly," Ethan said, giving her his best 'innocent puppy' look. He had no illusions about himself. He was a sarcastic guy who liked cold beer and looking at pretty won. He wasn't exactly 'Chosen One' material.
"Yes, you truly are… very 'ordinary,'" the Ancient One laughed. It wasn't a an laugh, but it made Ethan feel like a bug under a microscope. "Crossing between dinsions is no trivial task. You, as an ordinary person, not only managed to do it, but I cannot see your past... or your future. You are a blank page in a book that has already been written."
Ethan's jaw dropped. "What… does that an? Am I like a cosmic glitch?"
"It ans you will be staying here in Kamar-Taj for a while," she said, setting her tea down with a definitive clack. "I cannot let you out into the world until I discern if you are a gift to this reality... or a danger."
Ethan swallowed hard. "What if I am dangerous?"
He looked at her, his expression turning into a comical mask of concern. "I won't get killed, right?"
The Ancient One just smiled.
"Right?" Ethan pressed, his voice cracking slightly.
At his expression, the Ancient One's smile only widened. It was the kind of smile a teacher gives a student right before a surprise exam that covers a sester's worth of material in one hour. Ethan didn't feel good about that smile. At all.
At that mont, a tall, dark-skinned man in heavy sorcerer robes approached. He looked like he hadn't laughed since the 1990s.
"This is Master Mordo," the Ancient One said, standing up. "He will show you to your room. Change your clothes and join the training."
She turned and began to walk away, her robes swishing with practiced grace.
"Training?" Ethan called out, staring at her retreating back. "Wait! I'm a pacifist! I'm fragile! I have a note from my doctor back in... well, back in the place that doesn't exist anymore!"
Mordo didn't look impressed. He didn't look like he cared about notes or pacifism.
"Please, co with ," Mordo said quietly—but with the underlying tone of a man who would drag Ethan by his ankles if necessary.
Ethan stood up, dusting off his "civilian" clothes and following the stone-faced sorcerer.
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