"What do you mean 3 minutes is not enough?" the young man barked, brows knitted. "There are men who don't even last 30 seconds."
Average height, lean but healthy stature, and a smooth, fair-skinned complexion that almost looked girlish. Wearing a formal black coat and pants, Zeth sat in a brass-and-iron chair, his frown hidden by his wavy black hair, brushed forward to strategically conceal the receding hairline.
"And if not for your apostle's intervention, I would have lasted longer. Hell, I could have even defeated that warrior." His voice echoed in the milky-white room, carved with golden markings on the walls. While three apostles, dressed in white hooded robes that completely hid their faces, stood behind the table. Consoling the warrior who barely held his family jewels, groaning as if he were about to cry at any moment.
"Child, you could have gotten hurt, or maybe even died."
The voice was calm yet thunderous and divine; it belonged to the God of War, Aeris, sitting in the center of the room. Bronze armor covered his muscular physique, and his blond beard and short curly hair sparkled above his head.
"Heck, like I'm not already dead," Zeth uttered, as if the words tasted bad.
The God of War couldn't help but smile bitterly.
"Child, I must admit your efforts were impressive and your achievement remarkable. But you see…"
Aeris hesitated, glancing to the side at the warrior still traumatically holding his jewels. "I believe your methods are not so honorable."
Zeth's expression dropped to a look of pure, dumbfounded shock.
"Says who? The God of War?"
Silence fell for a moment.
Aeris's lips twitched as he looked at Zeth, and after a second of contemplation, he snapped his shaky fingers.
"Get out!"
The next second, Zeth found the wall surrounding him gone, along with the chair that had been supporting his pampered butts. He reacted, but not before he fell onto the white marble, off balance. A black file followed, appearing out of nowhere and hitting him in the face.
"God of War, you hypocrite, didn't your honor teach you not to disrespect a dead man?"
Zeth spat on the ground, clearly disgusted, as he stood up and loosened his tie. He looked around to find a crowd of people dressed in similar attire watching him with surprised, somewhat shocked expressions. This was the thirteenth rejection that Zeth had faced in a row since coming to heaven, and he was clearly not taking it well.
'What was I even expecting from someone who wears metallic armor in the middle of June?'
He ignored the gazes and walked through the wide streets of the city built in heaven, the City of a Thousand Gods, Amravati.
Zeth glanced at the tall golden building higher than the eye could see, the temple of the most popular god, before he turned around and walked away from it. The streets narrowed and were lined with two-story concrete buildings, the temples of the lesser gods. As he neared the edge of the city, even those disappeared, and what remained were a few wooden houses, barely maintained and crumbling.
His eyes halted on one of those wooden buildings. He paused for a moment, looking at the board barely hanging by ropes. Even though the text on it was in an unknown language, Zeth found he could read it easily... Temple of Freyr... Norse god of prosperity, agriculture, and harvest.
Zeth stared at the board for a moment with the look of an Albanian bear who had been transported to Antarctica.
'At this point, I'll just take anything.'
He brushed his coat, tightened his tie, took a deep breath, and pushed the creaking gate open to reveal a simple room with a wooden table and two chairs on either side. While the chair on his side remained empty, the one on the other side was occupied by a tall man with long, sunlit hair that fell to his shoulders and oceanic, calm blue eyes that met Zeth's.
"Welcome to the temple, my child." Freyr's voice echoed through the room, matching the calmness of his eyes and the melody of a flute. A contagious smile played on his lips.
Zeth paused for a moment, then quickly bowed as deeply as his spine allowed him to. "I pay my respects to the God of Harvest. Please accept my request for a job interview."
Freyr gently gestured toward the empty chair, and with the next gesture of his hand, a crystal sphere appeared on the table. Zeth didn't think twice before taking the seat.
"Child, I believe, since coming here, you have already gone through interviews."
"Yes, my lord!"
"Then, I wouldn't need to explain much. If you are ready, shall I take a look at the cause of your death?"
Zeth nodded as he reached forward and placed his hand on the crystal sphere. A white light slowly engulfed his vision, and as it faded, the room around them changed. A modern white bedroom appeared, with a king-sized bed, a messy bedsheet, and Zeth snoring in his floral pajamas at its center.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
The door echoed under the knock of a maid, who stared at Zeth with a fuming expression and a face red with anger. She stomped inside the room and, taking a deep breath, yelled. Her voice was similar to, if not worse than, a banshee's scream.
"YOUNG MASTER, YOU ARE STILL NOT AWAKE!!"
Zeth's brows furrowed, yet his eyes didn't open; his hand simply grabbed another pillow, and he pressed it against his ears. "Letmesbbb slepppmore... five more minutes... kekeke..."
His words acted like petrol on fire. The maid breathed heavily, taking an even deeper breath as she screamed again.
"YOUNG MASTER, YOU NEED TO WAKE UP, OR I WILL LOSE MY JOB!!"
The innocent pillow could barely put up a fight against the demonic screams. Zeth grumbled, still refusing to wake up. He dragged his body to the side and reached into his drawer to pull out a wad of cash. Without looking back, he threw it with perfect precision, hitting the maid in the face.
Her anger quickly turned to shock and embarrassment as she shamelessly collected the cash from the ground. Zeth simply smiled, placing a pillow between his knees as he slept carelessly.
"Child..." Freyr's eyes twitched as he looked at the vision.
"Are you perhaps... rich?"
Zeth's eyes lit up, and a sharp smile played on his lips.
"No. Not just rich… Filthy rich!"
Freyr's eyes lit up; the god could barely suppress his excitement. They both looked back at the scenery, Zeth sleeping peacefully like a baby. For a few minutes, nothing happened, and then it suddenly did; a massive shock trembled through the walls, followed by screams again.
"Someone help me, YOUNG MASTER!"
Zeth recognized the scream, the same banshee again. Though it was far away, the voice still pierced his ears and reached his brain like a sharp nail, and this time Zeth woke with a frown.
"These... hungry... bastards." He slowly stood up, his eyes still partially closed, put on the custom gold-plated Crocs, grabbed two more wads of cash from his drawer, and shambled across the room. He stood at the edge of the first-floor balcony of the mansion, looking down at the ground floor. He threw the wad of cash into the air.
"Take this and shut up, you idiots!"
But something felt wrong; there were almost no reactions, and Zeth couldn't help but rub his eyes open. As his vision cleared, a cold chill ran down his spine. The floor below was bathed in red blood, while limbs were scattered across the white tiles. Sweat dripped down his head as he slowly stepped back. Zeth felt his back hit against something.
He could feel it; it was hard, but not as hard as the wall. He slowly turned. His pupils widened, and his body almost froze. Towering over him stood an eight-foot-tall humanoid green monster with wide-open arms, and before Zeth could react, the monster struck him on the head, turning him into meat pulp.
"Oh heavens!" Freyr gasped as the scene closed and the crystal sphere returned to normal. "That must have been painful, my child."
Zeth couldn't help but smile bitterly. He had seen this happen thirty times now, and yet it still made him uncomfortable every time.
Freyr sighed, then smiled again. "No matter, child. It is the duty of gods to show benevolence to mortals. You should not worry. Someone like you is fated to deserve a second chance."
"Really?" Zeth's eyes sparkled, and he almost jumped from his seat. "Does that mean you will really hire me?"
Freyr nodded and smiled, holding his hands together. "Of course I will. If gods don't show benevolence, who will?"
Zeth dropped to the ground and bowed repeatedly. "Thank you, my lord! I shall forever be in debt to your kindness, and I will advertise your name in the mortal realm until you are the most popular god on planet Earth."
Freyr chuckled at his reaction. "Still, your résumé, please. We will need to do some formalities."
Zeth quickly opened the black file and took out a bronze sheet with strange engravings, the paper he had received upon arriving in heaven. Even though he did not understand what was written on it, the gods seemed to value the paper too much.
"Lord of Harvest, you have no idea how grateful I am. Just revive me once, and I will dance butt naked if I have to."
Zeth said excitedly when he noticed Freyr's expression had suddenly changed. The room slowly darkened, and an unknown pressure fell over him.
'Wait... did I say something wrong?' Zeth bit his tongue. But it was too late to think; the air felt heavy to breathe, and the ground beneath him trembled.
"Mortal..." Freyr's voice echoed through the space as he put down the résumé.
"Take this, and do not return here. I do not know why you are in heaven, but this place is not for you."
Zeth's eyes widened.
"But the job?"
Freyr looked at him with a gaze that pierced through his soul.
"Neither I nor any other god will ever give you a job. NOW YOU MAY LEAVE!"