He brought them out gently.
No flesh remained. These were impressions. Memories that lingered because the soul refused to forget.
To them, the transition was sudden — like falling through a dream.
They awoke not in fire, but in a floating pavilion surrounded by an endless lake. The stars reflected on the surface like tears unfallen. There was no roof. Just dusk above them and the sound of water breathing below.
Six cushions waited.
The five survivors sat slowly, unsure. The sixth presence lingered in the distance, silent. Watching.
The Judge stood before them.
"Welcome," he said — but not with sound. His words echoed in thought, in memory, in breath.
One of the souls — a tall, quiet-eyed figure with a golden shimmer beneath his skin — looked around. His name had once been Norman. Now, he remembered only fragments.
"This… isn't the afterlife," he said.
"No," the Judge replied. "It is the space between."
Another soul blinked rapidly, brushing ash from his jeans though his body was spirit. "I remember the fire. I was… reading a Webnovel. There was a boom." His voice cracked. "Why are we here?"
"You are all that remains," the Judge said softly. "Fate did not allow me to save Earth. But it allowed me… to find you."
The five souls looked at one another. Recognition bloomed slowly — the kind earned through years of shared laughter and arguments over bubble tea and fiction.
"We were friends," one murmured.
"Yeah," another added. "The club."
They began to remember: cramming for exams. Endless talks about reincarnation tropes. Dreams of being heroes, of walking the Dao.
And then… the bombs.
The Judge watched their sorrow rise like a tide.
with a tone representing care The Judge spoke " i will give you choice - choice of life and death, choice of death and rebirth, the choice is yours to make"
"You will not remember everything," he said gently. "The most important memories are sealed. For now, you will recall what is insignificant — what shaped you softly. The deeper truths will awaken only when you are ready."
A silence followed. None of them asked what "ready" meant. They knew better. This was no game. This was no fiction. It was the aftermath of everything.
The youngest among them, a girl with curling dark hair and traces of cinnamon smoke rising from her skin, lifted her gaze. "What happens now?"
The Judge raised a hand. In it formed a wheel of light — spinning slowly, marked with six unknown sigils.
"I cannot shape your future. I may only open a gate. But first… tell me what you seek."
The five looked to each other again.
Not a single one said "power."
Not one asked for revenge.
After a long pause,
Then, the girl spoke first. "Do we have a choice?"
The Judge nodded. "Yes. I offer no paradise. Only paths."
The Blue Soul clenched his fist. "Then we don't want heaven. We don't want reincarnation or rebirth. Not peace. Not power."
The White Soul added, "We want to cultivate."
Fire red soul, ever the skeptic turned believer, laughed. "That's right. We want… the Dao."
Silver's voice was quiet. "We don't want revenge or comfort. We want… eyes."
The Judge blinked.
"Eyes?"
"To see the true nature of the worlds," said Silver Blue. "To understand what lies beyond this destruction."
"To walk the Dao not as conquerors, but as seekers," The girl said.
"To find meaning in something greater than survival," Blue Soul added.
Silver Soul, staring into the infinite sky, whispered, "To be forgiven — not by you. But by ourselves."
The Judge nodded once.
"You will forget your names. You will forget Earth. You will awaken in worlds not your own. But your spirit will carry the weight of this hour — buried deep."
He looked toward each of them.
"And you will awaken with eyes that hunger."
"Eyes that seek. That question. That challenge."
"And when you are ready… the seal will lift."
In a final wave of stillness, he turned to the sixth soul.
It watched him with eyes like night. It did not speak. It did not ask.
The Judge did not stop it.
Five lights were cast outward — across stars and galaxies, across realms where cultivation was law and Dao the current of heaven. Each soul was seeded into a different world. Each bore a unique mark upon their forehead — the sigil of vision.
One golden, one white, one silver-blue, one formed of flavor and flame, one of symbols and silence.
Their Dao had not yet emerged. But the hunger had.
"From Earth's end, five seeds are scattered," the Judge whispered.
"Their Daos unknown, their fate still hidden."
"But even in destruction… hope persists."