Chapter 6: [6] Gacha 101
Xavier's head pounded like someone had taken a sledgehammer to his skull. Not the dull ache of a hangover—he knew those intimately—but the sharp, insistent throb of existence itself recalibrating around him. He tried to sit up, muscles protesting as though they'd forgotten how to function.
"Easy there, hot stuff. The whole 'having a body again' thing takes a minute to adjust to." The silver-haired goddess—Calypso, she'd called herself—leaned over him.
"Where am I?" Xavier's voice came out raspy.
"I told you already! The Liminal Space." Calypso gestured grandly at their surroundings, which seemed to shift between a luxury penthouse and a cosmic void with each blink. "My personal domain. The waiting room between death and whatever comes next." She twirled, her robe fluttering to reveal more skin than it concealed. "Which, for you, is going to be so much fun!"
Xavier pushed himself upright, the room spinning momentarily before settling. He looked down at his body—the same one he remembered, complete with the scar across his abdomen from a knife fight in Prague. He touched his forehead, half-expecting to find a bullet hole, but the skin was smooth, unbroken.
"I got shot."
"Yep! Right in the noggin." Calypso tapped her own forehead. "Clean shot, too. Very professional. You died instantly, so... silver linings!"
"And now I'm... here." Xavier scanned the space again, taking in details he'd missed before. The walls seemed both solid and permeable, occasionally revealing glimpses of other realities beyond. A massive crystal chandelier hung overhead, each pendant containing what looked like miniature galaxies. The floor beneath him wasn't quite floor—more like solidified mist that rippled with each movement.
"With me!" Calypso clapped her hands, golden sparkles erupting from her fingertips. "Aren't you the luckiest dead guy ever?"
Xavier narrowed his eyes. "Why do I feel like I've walked into a trap?"
Calypso gasped, pressing a hand to her ample chest. "A trap? Me? I'm offering you the opportunity of several lifetimes!" She floated—literally floated—closer, her scent filling his nose: vanilla, cherries, and something else, something ancient and powerful. "Most souls get shuffled right along to their next incarnation. Boring! But you..." She poked his chest. "You're in for a repackaging."