Transmigration: I Made A Deal With A Man in Yellow

I found myself standing in front of the two huge doors of the church.

Memories of what had happened earlier returned, so I quickly pulled my hands away from the doors as sweat ran down my face and back.

"Huff, huff."

I breathed heavily and touched my neck.

My head was still attached to my body, yet I could still feel the cold blade of Sister Friede’s scythe against it.

"Curses, I just died."

I had died for the first time, and it felt weird. Everything had gone completely black for a moment before I returned to life again.

But she actually kept her word.

It wasn’t painful.

"But what the heck was that? What kind of treachery was that?"

Was she really that fast?

No, that wasn’t it either.

She had actually disappeared after covering herself with a cloud of frost. But that was strange because she wasn’t supposed to have such an ability.

I didn’t write her—

I facepalmed after realizing it.

"Ahh, this fucking bastard changed the story again!" I shouted in frustration.

Because why else would a character I created display an ability she wasn’t supposed to have?

At this point, I should’ve expected things to not always go according to plan since the story kept changing.

My knowledge of my own book wasn’t that reliable anymore. Sure, the majority of things remained the same, but there were still minor changes that could have a huge impact on the story, no matter how small they seemed.

"Phew..."

I ran my fingers through my hair.

Although this complicated things a bit, I would still slay her at all costs.

Now, to explain why I was still alive—well, I did actually die, but I came back to life.

It was all because of the prayer I had made earlier beside the tombstones.

There were two ways to enter this dimensional space.

The first was by breaking the tombstones, but that meant I wouldn’t be able to revive if I somehow died. Plus, I respected the dead. It would be rude to do that to their tombstones.

The other way was the one I had chosen earlier: praying.

That granted me the opportunity to revive up to five times.

If I died a sixth time, I would die for good. And as a grave consequence, my real body outside would be taken over by Sister Friede, which would be a huge problem.

Releasing a monster that was thousands of years old into the world would be nothing short of perilous.

So yeah, dying wasn’t an option.

Calling her a monster was a bit harsh. She had been human before she was corrupted. Who knew what kind of things she would do if she were set free?

"So she can turn invisible as well..."

I was only assuming, but it looked to me like she had actually become invisible rather than simply moving that fast.

She was a Greater-rank monster, and I was only at Mid Ascendant.

The gap was huge.

But not impossible to overcome if I got that dagger.

You see, I clearly didn’t come here just to die.

I had a plan...

A very smart one.

I think.

There was a dagger somewhere near the altar that could be used to weaken Sister Friede.

But I had two problems.

First, I had to get past Sister Friede to reach the dagger, which I’d likely die a few times trying to do because she definitely wouldn’t let me get close to it.

And second...

I didn’t know exactly where it was.

I know you want to call me dumb, so what?

Obviously, when I wrote the book, I didn’t specify exactly where it was. I just said that it was somewhere near the altar.

Clearly, describing too much would’ve been an info dump, so I refrained from explaining every little detail.

I massaged my neck again and shivered.

"This is not pleasant at all."

So that was the plan: get past her, find the dagger, weaken her, and kill her.

A pretty straightforward and perhaps simple plan.

Wallahi, I’m finished.

I took a deep breath, walked back to the huge doors, pushed them open, and entered.

Sister Friede was kneeling in the same position as before, praying.

"I’m back."

A black scythe made of darkness formed in my hand.

Sister Friede turned her head, causing her veil to move slightly.

She remained silent for a few moments.

"You’re alive... child," she finally said, her voice soft and filled with a hint of disbelief.

I walked forward until I stopped beside what remained of my corpse—nothing but ashes.

"Yes, I am alive and very healthy. I’m surprised you actually gave me a painless death, so I’m grateful for that."

I looked down at my ashes.

"Did you burn my body?"

"Yes. Such a scene cannot be allowed within the home of the God of Stories. It would be disrespectful to His Grace."

Her gaze lingered on me for a moment longer.

"Yet here you are... alive, even after your head was severed and your body reduced to ashes. How very strange."

There was genuine puzzlement in her voice, as though my existence was something that simply shouldn’t have been possible.

"What can I say? Death doesn’t really like me, so it lets me go," I said with a smile.

Sister Friede, still with her hands clasped together, looked up at the ceiling for a few seconds before her small, pale lips parted.

"Death comes for us all, no matter how desperately we try to escape it. Only a God could stand beyond death, yet no mortal has ever ascended to such a state, nor will they ever. There is only one God, and there shall never be another."

Her words echoed smoothly throughout the church.

"And why do you think no one can become a God? No, let me ask a better question. Does that God of yours even exist?" I asked.

She stopped looking at the ceiling and turned her gaze toward me instead.

"No one can become God because no one could ever be as benevolent as Him, nor as free of sin. I know He exists. This world could not have simply come from nothing; everything must have a creator."

Her voice remained firm, without the slightest doubt.

"And I have felt His presence before. There is no doubt in my heart that He is real."

That’s true. I also believed there was always someone behind every creation. Something had to cause something else to be created.

Just like Newton’s third law.

"You say He’s benevolent, yet those visions sent you and your people to their doom," I said.

"You know about my visions?"

For the first time, Sister Friede showed a perplexed expression.

"Oh, I know your story very well." I nodded. "How your people were dying from a plague, and you, one of the High Sisters of your church, received a vision from your God telling you that the cure was in a faraway place. But that same cure brought about your demise."

I paused.

"What kind of God sends His people to their deaths?"

For a second, I could’ve sworn I saw her calm expression waver.

She turned toward the altar and spoke.

"He didn’t send us to our deaths... it was a choice."

I raised an eyebrow.

"A choice?"

"Yes," she replied. "A choice between trying to save my people... or standing by and watching them die."

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