An Agent Ascends to Immortality

The Chief remained silent.

Not impatient. Not judging. Just… present.

I stood in the stillness, weighed down by too many lives and too many questions.

This was supposed to be simple.

Forget everything. Start over. Let go.

And yet—now I have options I never knew I had.

A Cosmic Surfer. A voice of the Will. A guide, a reaper, an explorer, a weaver.

Or an Adjudicator. The blade of balance. The final say.

I tried to picture myself in both roles—

The Surfers path felt natural. I had walked beside enough of them to understand the rhythm of their existence. Jason Weaver, the one who first found me, had shown a quiet nobility I admired. He gave souls a second chance. A purpose. A place in the greater design.

Being a Weaver meant helping others find their way.

But still I somehow felt I wanted more than just that.

Then I remembered her.

The Adjudicator I'd seen during my fifth cycle.

A dispute between two powerful factions had torn the space between realms. Accusations of cheating, tampering with reincarnations, twisting fate, forging growth with more help than that was allowed. The tension stretched across whole sectors. The air itself had become thin, watchful.

Then she came.

She didn't walk in. She arrived, like a shift in gravity and space.

No entourage. No speech. Just silence that made stars hold their breath.

And when she passed judgment

The leader of the guilty faction—gone.

No screams. No explosion.

Just absence.

I don't know if he died, or if he was imprisoned in some place beyond existence.

All I know is that he ceased to be from where he stood. And no one questioned it.

Then she turned and looked at me.

And for a moment just one breath I felt… stripped.

Naked. As if every memory, every identity I'd worn was peeled away until only my soul remained.

And then the unexpected

She smiled.

Just a small smile. But real. Genuine. Maybe surprised. Maybe… curious.

She nodded once. And vanished.

Back then, I didn't understand the meaning of it. I thought maybe it was nothing.

But now, standing here, I wonder if she saw something in me.

Something even I hadn't yet discovered.

Maybe surviving five cycles had meant something. Maybe enduring wasn't just an accident—it was a qualification.

I looked back up at the Chief, and before I could stop myself, the words left my mouth:

"What do you think I should choose?"

My voice felt like a child's, lost and unsure. And yet, it was mine.

The old man smiled a slow, knowing grin. "That's your decision to make. And yours alone."

I nodded, half-expecting that.

But then he added, almost offhandedly, "Though… I will tell you a little perk."

I raised an eyebrow.

"If you choose to become an Adjudicator," he said, "you'll gain the right to sire an heir."

I blinked.

"Wait—what?"

He chuckled, clearly enjoying my reaction.

I squinted suspiciously. "You're messing with me."

He didn't deny it. Just laughed again and turned away, letting the thought hang in the air like incense.

But my mind was already spiralling.

After all these lifetimes spent serving being the villain, the martyr, the guide, the sword, the beast—was I finally being offered the chance to become?

I saw my lives flash behind my eyes like scenes on a reel.

Roles. Situations. Tasks.

But one thing was always constant:

I was following orders.

Always reacting.

A pawn in a larger play. A curtain raiser for someone else's story.

Yes, there were moments I loved.

Yes, I made memories that mattered.

But they were always in-between someone else's grand arc.

Why should I stay a part of the scenery, when I finally have a chance to shape the stage itself?

Maybe I wouldn't be the Will.

But a voice strong enough to be challenged?

A presence no one can ignore.

A blade feared by so called immortals who fancy themselves as gods and their factions

That was something.

That… was me becoming something.

Not a tool. Not a placeholder.

Not a soul waiting for someone to decide his next role.

But a soul that could finally say:

"This is who I am."