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1 I wasn't supposed to die on a Tuesday. Tuesdays were boring. Nothing ever happened on Tuesdays except for Celebrity Chef Showdown filming, and even that was just another day at work for me. "Josh, can you grab the spare whisks from storage?" Marco called from across the set. "Janice Burroughs somehow managed to break three of them already." "On it," I replied, setting down the prop table I had been arranging. Working as a production assistant on Celebrity Chef Showdown wasn't glamorous, but it paid the bills. I'd been doing it for four years, watching D-list celebrities fumble through recipes while real chefs critiqued their sad attempts at culinary glory. The irony wasn't lost on me that I spent forty hours a week around food but couldn't cook worth a damn myself. My specialty was microwave burritos and cereal. The storage room was in the basement of the studio, a dimly lit concrete cave that housed everything from spare kitchen equipment to holiday decorations from three seasons ago. I made my way down the narrow staircase, keys jingling in my hand. As I reached for the light switch, I heard a faint hissing noise. My nose wrinkled at a strange, acrid smell. Gas. Definitely gas. "Shit," I muttered, pulling my shirt over my nose. I turned to head back upstairs to alert maintenance when I heard a crash from above, followed by panicked shouting. "Fire! There's a fire in the kitchen!" My blood ran cold. Gas leak plus fire equaled very bad news. I sprinted back up the stairs, taking them two at a time. The scene on the set was chaos. A wall of flames had engulfed one of the cooking stations where Janice Burroughs, former sitcom star and current reality show regular, stood frozen in shock. The fire extinguisher beside her lay unused. "Everyone out!" Marco screamed, ushering the other contestants toward the emergency exit. I scanned the room quickly. Most of the crew were already evacuating, but Janice remained rooted to the spot, her eyes wide with terror. "Janice!" I shouted. "You need to move!" She didn't respond. The flames were spreading rapidly, crawling across the ceiling tiles. Black smoke began to fill the studio. I covered my mouth with my arm and ran toward her. "Come on," I said, grabbing her arm. "We need to get out of here." She finally snapped out of her trance and nodded, allowing me to guide her toward the exit. We had almost reached the door when I remembered. "The gas leak," I said. "There's a gas leak in the basement." Janice stopped. "What?" "Keep going," I told her, pushing her toward the exit where Marco waited. "Tell them there's a gas leak in the basement. They need to cut the main." "What about you?" she asked. "I'm going to make sure everyone's out," I replied. That was a lie. What I was actually going to do was incredibly stupid. I was going to try to shut off the gas myself. If that leak reached the fire... I didn't want to think about it. "Josh, no!" Marco called from the doorway, but I was already running back into the smoke-filled studio. I knew the maintenance panel was on the far wall. If I could just reach it, I could shut off the gas to the building. Simple, right? The smoke was getting thicker, making it nearly impossible to see. I dropped to my knees and crawled, trying to stay under the worst of it. My eyes burned, and each breath felt like swallowing sandpaper. When I finally reached the wall, I fumbled blindly for the panel. My fingers brushed against metal, and I pulled it open. Inside were dozens of switches and knobs, none of them clearly labeled in the dark, smoke-filled room. "Come on," I coughed, squinting at the panel. There, in the corner, was a red valve labeled "Gas Main." I reached for it just as a tremendous boom shook the building. "Oh," I said stupidly, as the world around me erupted into light and heat. "That's not good." And then there was nothing… Except… nothing turned out to be something after all. It was white. Bright, endless white that stretched in all directions. I blinked, expecting pain that never came. "Am I dead?" I asked the emptiness. "Indeed you are, Joshua Stone," a voice replied. I spun around to find a desk had appeared behind me. Behind the desk sat a bored-looking woman with glasses perched on her nose. She appeared to be in her mid-thirties, wearing what looked like a standard office outfit of a white blouse and gray pencil skirt. Her hair was pulled back in a tight bun, and she was typing away at a computer I couldn't see. "Please take a seat," she said without looking up. A chair materialized in front of the desk. I sat down, feeling strangely calm for someone who had just been informed they were dead. "So..." I started, "is this heaven? Hell? Purgatory?" "This is the Department of Reincarnation and Soul Transference," the woman replied, finally looking up from her invisible computer. "I am Administrator Pelucci. According to our records, you died heroically attempting to prevent a catastrophic explosion." "Did it work?" I asked. "Did everyone get out?" Administrator Pelucci looked back at her screen. "Most did, yes. Your actions provided crucial extra seconds for evacuation. The explosion was contained enough that only the studio was destroyed." I felt a wave of relief wash over me. At least there was that. "So what happens now?" I asked. "Do I get judged or something?" "Not exactly," she replied. "Your heroic death has qualified you for our Interdimensional Reincarnation Program." "The what now?" I squinted at her. “Simply put, Joshua Stone, you have earned the right to be reborn in another world.” She barely glanced at me. “A fantasy world, to be specific. The realm of Ferros." “Like... an isekai situation?” I stared at her. "Are you serious?" Administrator Pelucci raised an eyebrow. "I see you're familiar with the concept. Yes, it's somewhat similar to those Japanese animations you've watched. Though I assure you, the reality is far more complex." I felt a laugh bubble up from my chest. This had to be a hallucination. Maybe I wasn't dead after all, just unconscious, brain damaged from smoke inhalation. "This isn't a hallucination," Administrator Pelucci said as if reading my thoughts. "You are, in fact, deceased. Your remains are currently being extracted from the ruins of Studio 7's Celebrity Chef Showdown set." That sobered me up quickly. "Okay, so I'm dead, and now I get to be reborn in a fantasy world called Ferros. What's the catch?" "There's no catch," she replied, sliding a form across the desk toward me. "You simply need to select your divine blessing. Think of it as a parting gift for your service." I picked up the form. It was titled "REQUISITION FORM: DIVINE BLESSINGS AND SUPERNATURAL ABILITIES." "Is this for real?" I asked, scanning the form. It looked like a job application mixed with an RPG character sheet. There were sections for "Combat Specialization," "Magical Affinity," and "Special Abilities." "Completely real," Administrator Pelucci confirmed. She checked her watch. "And I'm afraid we're on a rather tight schedule. We process approximately twelve thousand souls per minute across all departments." "Twelve thousand per minute?" I echoed, stunned. “People die, Joshua. All the time.” She shrugged. “Now, please make your selection so we can proceed." I looked back at the form, still not entirely convinced this wasn't some elaborate dying dream. According to the instructions, I could select one major blessing or ability for my new life in Ferros. The options were pretty standard fantasy fare: enhanced strength, magical aptitude, perfect memory, beast communication, weapon mastery. Nothing particularly original. "What's popular these days?" I asked, trying to make conversation while I considered my options. Administrator Pelucci sighed. "Most males your age select either 'Unrivaled Swordsmanship' or 'Harem Attraction Aura.' Both are utterly predictable choices." I snorted. "Yeah, that sounds about right." The whole situation felt absurd. Here I was, supposedly dead, filling out paperwork for my reincarnation like I was signing up for a cell phone plan. If this was real, I didn't want to make a boring choice. And if it wasn't real, well, what did it matter? A thought struck me. "Can I write in my own ability?" I asked. Administrator Pelucci frowned. "It's not typical, but there is technically a provision for custom blessings. What did you have in mind?" I grinned and scribbled on the "Other" line: "40% Stronger Than You." "There," I said, sliding the form back across the desk. "I want that one." Administrator Pelucci picked up the form, her frown deepening as she read my request. "40% Stronger Than You? What does that even mean?" "It means exactly what it says," I replied, warming to the idea. "No matter who I face or compete against, I'll be 40% stronger, faster, or better than them. It's simple." "That's not simple at all," she protested. "It's ridiculously vague and potentially quite powerful. In fact, it doesn't even make mathematical sense. 40% stronger than what baseline? How would that calculate in practical terms?" I shrugged. "That's for your divine accounting department to figure out. The form says I can request a custom blessing. That's mine." Administrator Pelucci pinched the bridge of her nose. "You're being difficult on purpose." "Consider it my way of protesting this whole bizarre situation," I replied. "If I'm going to be forced into a fantasy world, at least let me have some fun with it." She muttered something under her breath that sounded suspiciously like "another problematic transfer" before tapping at her invisible keyboard. "Fine," she finally said. "40% Stronger Than You it is. The system will interpret and implement this as it sees fit. I wash my hands of the consequences." "Great," I said cheerfully. "So what happens next?" Administrator Pelucci stood up, straightening her skirt. "Next, you will be transferred to Ferros. Your memories of Earth will remain intact, though they may fade somewhat over time. You will be reborn as an adult version of yourself, approximately the same age you were at death." "That's convenient," I remarked. "It's efficient," she corrected. "Infant development takes too long, and the paperwork for age regression is nightmarish." She handed me what looked like a standard business card. It was white with black text that simply read: "Joshua Stone. 40% Stronger Than You." "Keep this with you," she instructed. "It's your identification and blessing certification." "Do I get a wallet in this new world?" I asked, only half-joking. "Clothing, basic provisions, and yes, a means to carry your identification will be provided upon arrival," she replied, completely serious. "Any other questions before transfer?" I had about a million questions, but something told me Administrator Pelucci wouldn't be particularly forthcoming with detailed answers. "Just one," I said. "This world, Ferros. What's it like?" For the first time, Administrator Pelucci's expression softened slightly. "It's a world of opportunity, Joshua Stone. What you make
