Oops in Heaven
All across Heaven, souls danced in peace—laughter echoing through clouds shaped like prayers, golden fields basking under light that needed no sun. There was no grief, no fear, no need left unmet.
No stress.
Except for one angel.
Destiel darted between resting spirits, wings fluttering like frantic parchment in wind. He approached soul after soul with the same plea:
“Will you return to the physical plane?”
Some chuckled at the absurdity. Others scoffed, or politely declined with a swift “Nope.”
Destiel gritted his teeth. “Darn it…”
He’d made a mistake—a big one.
Somewhere far below, a sacred vessel prepared for reincarnation now waited empty, its destined soul having been ushered into Heaven by his hand. That soul? Absolutely refusing to go back.
“I was promised rest,” it had said. “And I’m not giving it up.”
Now, ten billion inquiries later, Destiel was exhausted, spiraling in anxiety. No volunteers. No do-overs. The balance was fraying.
He descended to the Second Holy Layer, hoping his siblings—angels of deeper wisdom—could help.
They listened patiently, their eyes glowing like still water.
“Trust in the Creator,” one said.
“Perhaps it’s not a mistake,” another added. “Perhaps it’s... a reroute.”
Destiel wasn’t convinced.
Meanwhile, in a quieter corner of Heaven, another angel, Gadriel, sat staring at a soul unlike the others.
“Listen, friend,” the angel began, rubbing his temples. “You’re on the list. You’re getting into Heaven. Just... not yet.”
The soul raised an eyebrow, lounging on a cloud like a disgruntled barista on break.
“I majorly screwed up, alright?” the angel admitted. “You died earlier than scheduled because your paperwork said, ‘Left at Pearl Gate’. I thought it meant leave you at the pearly gate. But no—turns out it meant take a left on Pearl Street. My bad.”
“Uh-huh,” said the soul, unconvinced.
“So if you’d just consent to letting me send you back—”
“No.”
The word dropped like divine lead.
The angel sighed, wings drooping. “Dude… c’mon. I just got back in good standing after that whole ‘letting the snake into the garden’ thing. You really want to mess this up for me?”
The soul tilted their head. “No, I just want out. Not Heaven. Not Earth. Just… the Void. Empty. Nada.”
“That’s not how this works!” the angel barked. “Everyone wants rest—this is the rest you were promised!”
“Yeah,” the soul said, stretching their legs, “and this ‘rest’ feels like work with extra steps. And now you want me to go relive all that crap? Pass.”
The angel flailed his hands. “I can’t send you to nothing. There’s no postal code for that!”
The soul smirked. “Then I guess you’re about to piss off your bosses… again.”
“Where do you even get off!?” the angel snapped, halo flickering like a faulty lightbulb.
Pause.
“Okay—fine. What if I... sweeten the deal?” He pulled out a glowing clipboard. “I could modify your next life. Make you someone famous. An influencer?”
“Nah,” said the soul. “That’s a soulless gimmick.”
“An actor?”
“Nope.”
“Some movie, maybe a leading—?”
“I need a multi-season sitcom with a guaranteed spin-off clause,” the soul clarified. “I want to work hard—but not insanely hard. I want a farm. With llamas. The kind of actor who works and leaves. No red carpets. No award shows. No fan service. Just. Llamas.”
The angel blinked, quill already scribbling furiously.
“…Okay. Yeah. Sitcom. Llamas. Boring—but achievable.”
He was just about to finalize the divine reincarnation form when—
Destiel burst in, flustered and glowing with panic.
“I need a soul now—please tell me you have a soul without assignment!”
The soul locked eyes with the swirling World Matrix Destiel carried.
A powerful relic used to send souls to worlds, it was a holy artifact of destiny, time, and cosmic bureaucracy.
And like that, the soul vanished.
Gone. Pulled into the reincarnation stream like dust into a vortex.
The angel stared at the empty cloud.
“...Oops,” Destiel muttered.
The other angel dropped his clipboard, slumped to his knees, and screamed at the heavens:
“I DIDN’T EVEN GET TO ADD THE LLAMAS!”
--------------------------------------------------------
A heavy weight pressed on my chest.
No—not metaphorically. Literally. Warm. Soft. Alive.
The dream was already fading.
Damn it. Same thing every morning for the last three years—
I’d get close to the answer, just before waking up, just before I could ask—
Why the hell am I here?
I opened my eyes.
And instantly wished I hadn’t.
Not Ruby. Definitely not Ruby.
A beautiful young woman straddled my waist, pinning me down with a mix of sleep, steel, and subtle menace. Her black hair spilled like ink over her shoulders, her face carved from nobility and irritation alike.
Her voice was calm. But not soft.
“You have one sentence to explain why you’re in my mother’s bed… and she’s missing.”
...
Oh no.
I looked around.
Silken canopy. Scent of lotus incense. A silver-lined vanity.
Yup. Definitely someone important.
Definitely a sect leader’s chamber.
Shit.
My heart sank further when I noticed the rune-pistol revolver aimed directly at my face.
Carved ivory grip. Crescent runes.
Rare. And fatal.
She was wearing a white kimono embroidered with a silver dragon sash.
Lunar Moon Sect.
Of course.
One of the big ones.
They don’t miss.
They don’t forgive.
And they don’t tolerate intruders in their mother’s bed.
My memories finally kicked in, slapping me like a cold bucket of water.
“Okay, okay, listen—I’m a healer. Support main. They call me The Surgeon. I came here by request to diagnose a rare internal Qi rot and propose hospice treatment.”
She didn’t lower the gun. She cocked it.
“That’s not explaining why you’re in her bed, dung beetle! I read the ad!”
“...Ugh.” I rubbed my face. “She insisted I stay. I told her hospice wouldn’t be necessary. I treated her. It was already late when I finished. She said the guest quarters were cursed. Told me to stay here. That’s all.”
The gun trembled slightly in her hand.
“You… treated her?”
“Successfully?”
I nodded, confused.
And then, the door slammed open.
“Yueying!” A voice scolded.
A woman entered with the soft authority of a queen.
White hair, glowing skin, vibrant eyes—her mother. Looking… completely healed.
The girl froze, eyes wide.
“Mother?!”
“What did I tell you about sneaking in through the window?” her mother scolded.
“I thought something was wrong!” the girl snapped, but her voice cracked. “It’s how I used to visit you when you were sick—!”
Her mother crossed the room, gently pried the revolver from her hands, and pulled her into a tight embrace.
“I’m fine,” she whispered, tears forming. “Better than fine. He saved me.”
I dressed in silence.
Didn’t take long. I don’t wear what most supports wear—no silk sashes, no color-coded robes, no fluttering symbols of peace.
All black. That’s more my speed.
Black cloak. Dark undershirt.
And my carapace greaves—stitched from the husks of Black Sectoids mined in the Noxian Caves. Ugly things, but their chitin is nearly indestructible.
I returned to the table, just in time for the awkwardness.
Yueying sat there, already bowing her head.
“Again,” she mumbled, cheeks red. “I’m sorry.”
I waved it off. “Don’t worry about it.”
She looked up like she wanted to apologize again.
“Seriously,” I added. “It’s cool.”
But inwardly?
Damn.
I really forgot where I fell asleep.
I needed to get back to Ruby.
Breakfast helped. Sort of.
It looked like bacon. Smelled like beef. Tasted like neither—but still good. Whatever kind of cow they had here, it mooed and died just the same. I glanced at their “sows”—also cow-shaped. Everything here tried to mimic Earth, like a fever dream trying to remember the real thing.
Three years in, and I was still learning how different this world was.
I chewed in silence while Yueying and her mother talked. I didn’t pay attention. I never did after treatments. Normally, I’d be gone before sunrise—back in the shadows before anyone could ask questions.
But I had slept in.
Stupid.
“You have to explain how.”
I blinked, snapped back into the room. “...Pardon?”
Her eyes narrowed, gleaming like polished steel.
“How did you heal her? Even our best supports said the illness was terminal. They’re Qi Transcendents. You… You must be Enlightened. Or Ascended.”
I stared at her. “I’m not.”
“What?”
“I don’t know anything about Qi.”
Dead silence. Even the mother looked stunned.
“You’re joking,” Yueying said flatly.
“Nope. Never trained in a sect. Never touched Qi flow. Don’t even know what my ‘spiritual core’ is supposed to be. I’m just a—”
“Then how are you accepting commissions? Healing people?”
I leaned back in my chair, rubbing the bridge of my nose.
“I’m a freelancer. No guild. No sect. I wait till the job’s been sitting long enough that no one wants it—then I take it for half-pay.”
Yueying looked like I had personally insulted her lineage.
“Why would you accept a job like this? If you’re not part of anything?”
I sighed.
This was why I never stuck around.
Too many questions. Too many assumptions. Too many eyes.
I picked up a slice of... beefacon? Cowcon? Whatever. Took a bite.
“Because I’m good at it. And someone needed to do it.”
Yueying looked like she wanted to interrogate me further, but then her comm crystal chirped—a piercing ping—and bells echoed through the valley.
The village barrier was under attack.
She snapped to attention, rising from her seat. “Please wait here,” she said, already moving.
I wasn’t planning on staying.
I casually grabbed another piece of that fake bacon-beef and slipped the rest into a napkin. Shouldered my bag. Checked my gear.
Time to ghost.
I took the back route—through the garden wall and toward the forest edge. I didn’t do exits with goodbyes. Just clean breaks. I’d disappear like I always did.
But then I heard the roar.
And the impact.
I paused.
And I saw her.
Yueying.
Struggling. Hurt. Pushed to the edge.
She was locked in combat with something I hadn’t seen in a long time—an Undead Repsaurus.
“Shit…”
No wonder she was having trouble. You can’t just kill the thing—it comes back again and again unless you sever the bond right.
Her attacks were strong—her strength wasn’t the issue. Her level was.
From behind a cracked tree, I watched her Qi flash: sharp, silver bursts of Harmony-class technique. She was good. Just not enough.
Not for that thing.
A massive roar shook the trees. The Repsaurus lifted a whole tree trunk and hurled it like a javelin.
I tracked its arc—
A family. Right in the line.
“Repel.”
The rune beneath my hand flared. A ripple of force burst from my palm, slapping the projectile aside mid-air. It exploded harmlessly against a hillside.
Then I turned my attention to the beast.
I exhaled… slowly.
Then reached into my cloak and pulled out my scalpel.
I held it to my eye—and cut.
One vertical slice.
One horizontal.
A glowing cross carved into my left eye, pooling blood that hissed and bubbled as it turned a brilliant green.
“Diagnose.”
The world shifted.
The left half of my vision became a glowing interface—charts, numbers, and raw magical data began spilling across my sight.
[MEDICAL DIAGNOSTIC: ENTITY - UNDEAD REPSAURUS]
Blood Pressure: None
Pulse: Absent
Vital Function: Dead
Motor Control: Moderate
Healing Type: Necrotic Regeneration (Bone Memory)
Weak Points:
Primary: Ball joints (weak socket regeneration)
Secondary: Magical anchor (summoning tether)
Tertiary: Cognitive delay (0.4 sec between commands)
Yueying was panting, sweat soaking her dragon sash, her blade trembling from overuse.
She’s got strength, but the wrong matchup. She’s not going to beat this thing head-on.
The Repsaurus howled and hurled a tree trunk toward a family huddled near the barrier.
I moved before I could think.
“Repel!”
A soft ripple pulsed from my hand. The trunk froze midair—then launched backwards into a ditch like it had hit a wall of air.
The family fled.
The undead charged again—too fast for her to respond.
“Attract: Socket Pivot – Right Leg!”
My blood still burned across my face as I pulled—not the monster, but its joint. The corrupted ball of Qi-laced cartilage. It took a second—longer than I wanted—but then:
POP.
The Repsaurus collapsed, its leg unhinged, unable to rise.
Yueying saw the opening. She didn’t need directions. She struck like lightning, her blade a silver flash, and severed the monster’s remaining lifeline—
But I had other plans.
“Feather of the Phoenix!”
I threw the glowing feather into the monster’s mouth as it screamed.
A pillar of flame exploded upward, golden light crackling with divine judgment. The runes peeled away the undead link with a shriek of severed spirit.
8888888 DAMAGE
EXORCISM COMPLETE
The beast turned to ash in a gust of holy wind.
The village barrier glowed solid again.
The bells stopped.
And the people cheered.
I just sighed.
I checked my system window.
The experience I gained was… minimal.
Figures. They call it an exorcism. Not a kill.
I sighed. Loudly.
Time to get out of here before I get questioned again.
I reached down and dusted my knees off, slipping my scalpel back into its hidden sheath along my thigh. My eye burned like fire now that the Diagnose skill had worn off—I’d have to restore it later. Again.
There went the bonus from this job.
Another Phoenix Feather gone... Great. Guess I’ll be using the payment from this commission to restock—again.
Can’t risk not having one on me.
You never know when someone’s going to die right in front of you.
I started to turn when I felt her presence again—soft, hesitant.
“Wait,” she said, stepping forward. “Please… I want you to join our sect.”
I blinked slowly.
“Nope.”
Her face froze.
“My master’s always looking for rare talents,” she said quickly. “He’d take one look at you and—”
Alright. Time to shut this down.
I turned to her fully, letting the weight settle in my voice.
“Hate to burst your bubble, Yuey, but every sect in this region’s already turned me down.”
Her brows furrowed.
“No martial arts talent. No elemental affinity. No bloodline. No sword skills. No runic pistol proficiency. Just support-based skills. Healing. Buffs. Diagnostics. Tactical repositioning. You name it—I can’t kill with it. So don’t waste your time.”
She flinched slightly.
Her lips parted… but nothing came out.
And that’s when I made the mistake of really looking at her.
Her eyes—icy blue with dark rings like the edge of a moonlit lake—shimmered with hurt she wasn’t trying to show. And damn if she didn’t look like a kicked puppy.
Why do I feel like an asshole now?
She was breathtaking. Not in the fake, powdered way nobles dress up for court. Real. Lethal and feminine. Her figure was curved like an artisan blade: not exaggerated, but intentional. Defined. Her chest strained slightly against the top wrap of her kimono, held firm by the silver dragon sash knotted at her waist. Beneath it, the curve of her hips was pronounced—athletic, but undeniably full. Her stance was poised like a duelist, but soft around the edges in a way that said, someone used to holding people, not just blades.
Her skin was pale, almost porcelain, still dusted with a faint pink across her cheeks—battle flush, adrenaline, maybe even embarrassment.
She looked up at me with those wide, glistening eyes again.
Damnit, woman. Stop looking at me like that.
“I’m not promising anything,” I muttered, pulling my cloak tighter around me like a barrier. “I’ll meet your… person. Master guy. Whatever.”
She opened her mouth to respond and—there it was again. That soft, hopeful look.
Shit.
“Just stop looking like that,” I grumbled. “Fine. I’ll meet him.”
Her smile almost made me take it back. Too bright. Too pure. Too… trusting.
“I need to go home first,” I added quickly, trying to escape. “I need to see Ruby.”
She nodded. “I’ll be here. Meet me back in three days. I’ll introduce you properly.”
I gave her a short wave, then turned and left, cloak snapping behind me. A part of me—maybe the smart part—whispered that I shouldn’t come back. That I should vanish again like I always did.
But I’d said I would.
So I would.
I got back home just before sunset.
The second I opened the gate, I heard her.
“Mrrrrreow!”
A blur of fur launched itself through the air.
“Whoa—hey there, Ruby!”
She hit my chest like a purring missile, her tiny claws scrabbling against my cloak as she nestled beneath my chin, vibrating like a soft little engine.
Ruby.
A rabbit-cat hybrid the size of a large melon.
Gray, white, and black fur in patches like snowfall on storm clouds.
Long ears like a rabbit’s, soft and upright, but with a slight twitch at the tips.
A tail like a puffball. Tiny padded feet.
She looked like she belonged in a storybook.
And she purred. And meowed. And sometimes growled in her sleep.
Not at all what I expected.
It was supposed to be a dragon egg.
I’d won it at a festival about a month into arriving here.
Some “egg expert” had insisted one of the mystery eggs might contain a dragon.
I listened. I rolled the dice.
And out popped this little furball with fangs too small to do damage and eyes that melted even the roughest adventurer.
Not a dragon… but I don’t regret her one bit.
She was warm. Soft. Loyal.
And she had never once asked me to join a damn sect.
