["Prologue"]
[Day ? - ?:?:?]
[Sgt. Gary "Roach" Sanderson - DECEASED]
[Task Force 141 - DISAVOWED]
[Unknown Location]

"...Roach?"

it was a rather unwanted sensation.

"...Roach! Come on, Gary- wake up!"

He was tired, and he wanted nothing more but to just rest, but that violent shaking from something, or rather - someone, was constantly keeping his consciousness in check with him. Slowly but surely, Sergeant Gary Sanderson cracked his eyes open, the sudden light entering his eyes temporarily blinding him, but they quickly adjusted themselves and focused into a floating blob in front of him. The soldier's pupils dilated and deflated for a couple of times, taking its sweet time to finally form an image of a male caucasian, staring right down at him with light but worried gaze. After a few more seconds, Roach's mind identified the other man as Simon Riley, a comrade he's been working with for the longest time, known to most only by his enigmatic codename - "Ghost".

Gary parted his lips to speak, but his throat remained too hoarse to produce any sort of noise. Simon, noticing this just stayed in his crouched position beside him, ready to provide assistance to his comrade.

"You need any help there, Gary?"

Roach swiftly lifted one arm up, indicating that it wouldn't be necessary. He needed to get his body used to and ready to react in this new situation anyway.

Speaking of situation, though... it didn't take long for Gary to notice that something was off about basically everything. For one, both men seemed to be only lightly clothed, probably too light for the Sergeant's liking. They were wearing simple, plain-gray sweatshirts with a matching pair of woodland-green cargo pants with no camouflage pattern as well as a pair of combat boots. Hell, Simon wasn't even wearing his skull-patterned balaclava, his identity unmasked and clear as day, and revealing his pale, lightly-scarred and battle-worn face, already somewhat showing light wrinkles from all the stress caused by all the combat. Usually the man is practically inseparable from it, and given the situation that the last thing he remembered was having a firefight of sorts with the Russians, they certainly were not dressed for the occasion.

The next thing he became aware of was how... empty their surroundings were. Again, a discrepancy from what his memories of intense combat served him. He was expecting to be woken up either in the field, with explosions erupting all around him, or within the safe and sterile confines within an infirmary, but clearly this was not the case. Everything felt weird to him. The air felt weird to breathe, the unsettling, empty landscape felt weird to see. Even the ground beneath them felt weird to touch. It felt solid enough for them to stand (or for Gary's case, lie down) on, but at the same time it also felt a bit 'cushiony', the ground was soft, like stepping on a large, never-ending pillow.

Roach got up into a sitting position, while Ghost stood back up to his impressive 6-foot plus height. Instinctively, Gary's hand went up to nurse on his forehead with a frown slowly forming on his face.

"Memories still fuzzy?" Simon piped up, looking down upon the other man, who was still quiet. "Can't blame you. Also happened to me when I woke up here."

Roach gave the fellow 141 operative a confused look, as if questioning.

At that, Ghost's lips pressed themselves together before curving upwards, forming a bleak smile. "You really don't know, eh?" He took a single large breath and then exhaling an equal amount out from his mouth. "Well, how do I say this... looks like we're dead, mate."

When that statement left Simon's mouth, Roach's brain finally reconnected him back to his most recent memory. He remembered storming one of two possible compounds where the terrorist and Ultranationalist Vladimir Makarov with Ghost and some other members of the 141. Ozone, Ghost, Scarecrow, with Toad and Archer on overwatch. While the other compound, located in Afghanistan was going to be raided by Captain Price and Captain MacTavish along with General Shepherd's personal company. He remembered the shootout inside the safe-house, protecting the blasted DSM which was believed to contain all intel regarding Makarov, then the desperate retreat under constant enemy fire and mortar shelling.

It was then, Roach remembered a mortar round exploding too close within proximity, sending him flying along with the dust, fire, dirt, and shrapnel that was produced by the impacted round. Subconsciously, Gary's hand went down from his head to his chest. The stinging sensation of pain still lingering when a generous amount of foreign objects lodged themselves upon his torso and legs. He was then dragged across the field by none other than his comrade who was beside him now, and felt the comfort he felt when reinforcements finally came from General Shepherd himself. Yes, Shepherd himself personally came down to relieve them! He thought that they were finally in the clear, and they were finally safe.

But then, his mind directed him to the following events.

"...Good. That's one less loose end."

The unmistakable deafening ring of a 44. Magnum revolver being fired at point blank range at Roach's torso, followed by another bullet that pierced through Ghost's kevlar and embedding itself on his neck, destroying any internal organs within, came back to him. At first, Gary wasn't even sure he felt it from all the adrenaline that was coursing through his veins plus all the pain that'd incapacitated him before. But he wouldn't forget the horror laced on Simon's empty and unmoving eyes through his glasses when their bodies were dumped into a small ditch, before being doused with gasoline and finally being burned alive by the ignition caused by Shepherd's cigarette.

Roach's hand began to shake hard, his breathing pace became erratic, his nausea rising, and he could feel sweat forming and trickling down his cheek from his forehead. At first it was mostly out of terror and and denial at the fact that they were betrayed by the General, but then it turned into anger and pure hatred at the man. The 141 had already sacrificed so much, and they've got all the data they need to finally put an end to Makarov's menace and maybe to an extend, to the war and prevent future young-blood from being spilled. But instead, there they were, drowning and their own blood and then gasoline, and then the ever soaring heat and pain from the flames that ate away and melted their clothes, and their skin.

Ghost looked at his friend with quiet sympathy. "Finally caught up... have you? That's right. That asshole, the yank... Shepherd has betrayed us."

Roach quickly looked up to his friend, his face filled with concern, probably directed at their other squadmates.

Simon seemed to understand, and he gave his head a single shake. "I don't what happened to the others, Roach," He informed simply with a sad voice, trying his best to keep neutral. "I... I did see Ozone getting gunned down on our way out from the safehouse, and Scarecrow hit by a mortar round..." Ghost began hesitantly, much to the sorrow of Roach. "Toad and Archer didn't even respond to our hails during our way to exfil... but here's hoping they got away."

The fact that the Lieutenant managed to even think about reaching out the others with all the firefight and the ensuing betrayal was already amazing enough. But even in death he kept his cool. It was honestly one of the reasons why Roach admired the Englishman so much. His combat prowess was nothing to scoff at, his calm, sound and tactical mind helped the 141 team through even the bleakest of situations, his leadership earned him the respect of even Captain MacTavish, who was not easily impressed. But even with all that training and all that skills were useless when faced against an unexpected stab in the back. And who could blame him, really. Whatever secrets Shepherd was hiding, he was doing a good job at it. No one seemed to notice the signs, at least until it's already too late.

Gary followed his friend, and stood back up, but not after spending a few more minutes just to calm his nerves and accepting the fate that they have probably passed on from the world. He took one long look at their surroundings, and only the white void came back to greet his eyes. The ground even seemed to be invisible, despite his feet clearly touching it. He glanced over to Simon, who also seemed to carefully study and analyze their immediate vicinity, only for the taller Englishman to give out a loud, wary groan. Ghost then proceeded to pinch the bridge of his nose, seemingly at the end of any logical thinking capacity his mind could muster.

Ghost looked back to his friend, seeing another confused look that screamed 'okay... what now?', even accompanied with a questioning shrug.

"I don't know, Gary. You tell me," Simon replied to the ever-silent 141 operative. "If anything, hell seems to be much more different than I thought it'd be," With his arms crossed, and his accented tone was dry, but still carried sarcasm within it - Ghost added.

"Weary souls."

At the sudden call, the two operatives hastily assumed a trained, defensive form, with Ghost reflexively raising the both of his hands and bending his knees slightly to enter a martial stance, while Roach reached for a sidearm on his hip that wasn't there. Gary shook his head a few times and followed the actions of his colleague. With their backs pressed against each other, the men's eyes snapped left and right, trying to determine the source of the voice, only finding no one but the same white void. The voice was deep - so deep that when it erupted, it sent chills down the two's spines. Yet, at the same time it also sounded... genderless, it didn't exactly sound masculine, but also wasn't feminine either. The voice also had a mighty echo to it, despite there being no objects around them to reflect the incoming sound.

It sounded almost... ethereal.

"Who's there?" Simon raised his own voice, trying to match the volume of the voice that called out to them, while Roach stayed quiet and kept on scanning for any incoming threats.

"Weary souls," The voice boomed again in repeat. "Proceed forward." This time, the voice carried a sense of finality.

Ghost gave another weary groan. "We're not in for your games, wanker - identify yourself!" He yelled again in defiance, not at all amused if someone was playing tricks at them.

"Proceed forward."

"Oi, I said: identify yourself!"

The ghastly voice didn't come back. Now, it just stayed silent completely, despite further demands and protests from the English soldier, leaving behind the two soldiers slightly dazed, confused, and also a just teeny-tiny bit dreaded at the troubles they might've got themselves into. However, they noticed that the ground beneath them started to glow to form a horizontal line, as if signifying which path the men should take. Seconds turned into minutes as the soldiers didn't let their guard down, but alas, the 141 operatives gave in - their arms lowering and their muscles relaxing, if only by a small margin. They allowed themselves to calm down from the shock.

"Crikey, if that's our Lord and Savior, then His voice is way too menacing for His own good," Simon was the first one to quip, sounding completely unamused. "...And not to mention... mechanical."

Now that his comrade mentioned it, Roach couldn't help but to agree. The voice was so emotionless, so devoid of tone or basically any form of expression that it sounded like as if someone was reading a practiced-line of dialogue, or just downright automated. Both men were then at a lost. They knew well that they couldn't just trust that mysterious voice. Meanwhile, they also were not presented with many - if at all - options on how to handle the situation they were in, and as much as they hated it, the only fact that remained was that the voice provided the best choice for them. Maybe it could provide them with an explanation, or better yet - a way out - if they followed its commands.

Ghost finally released a sigh of resignation. "I'm at my wit's end here, mate," He informed Gary, who threw him a sideways glance with his eyebrows raised. "You have any ideas, Roach? I'm not seeing much of a choice here..."

An evident look of surprise crossed Roach's face for a split-second. It was rare to see the Lieutenant being so utterly loss despite his brilliance. And if the Simon "Ghost" Riley has given up, Roach let a small wave of hopelessness to wash over him. He made sure that it wouldn't show on his face, though. And instead, Gary gave his comrade-in-arms a neutral shrug, implicating that his opinion didn't differ from his. Ghost merely narrowed his eyes as a response, letting his eyes travel back down to the now-highlighted path they were supposed to take. Another glance at Roach and he simply shrugged yet again, not knowing what else to respond.

"Of all the times you have to be a silent bloke... even in death, you're still a man of a few words," Ghost ran a hand through his own buzz-cut scalp in exasperation, a sigh being released into the air, he then gestured a hand to his comrade to follow him, to which Roach did.

As the men walked in more silence, Roach added more mental notes on why the premises felt so strange. Whatever plane of existence they were in, it had no wind blowing, no sun shining. Even with his face, and portions of his arm exposed, he just couldn't feel anything at all. There were no cold wind to make him shiver, no warm rays of the sun to drench him in sweat. It was just complete and absolute nothingness. He'd think that through walking, his skin would at least feel the air around them hitting and grinding against him through friction. If nothing else, Roach was just grateful that the environment didn't have any extreme weather. If he had to point it out, his closest approximation on the vicinity's climate was just at a neutral, comfortable room temperature.

A throat being cleared, courtesy of Ghost, stopped Gary's train of thought from exploring any further. "So... Gary, you got any stories to tell? Haven't really seen you in action before Operation: KINGFISH."

At his query, Roach's eyes slightly widened. Ghost was never really the one to initiate small talk. He was all serious and business-like, even during off-duty at base. Simon Riley never really bonded with the other members of the 141. The moment he mentioned that operation, his mind traveled back in time, probably about three years ago. It was a joint-operation by the world's best, the 141 and the United States's Delta Force to capture and/or kill Makarov. It was a mission gone horribly wrong, resulting in multiple dead, wounded, or captured - one example being Captain Price. And in the end, they were back at square one, with Makarov and his influence still on the large.

To answer his question, Roach gave another quiet shrug. Followed by a shake of his head and then another shrug, as if saying 'nothing interesting, really,' He then nudged Ghost with a look of inquiry, returning the question. '...how about you?'

Ghost was quiet for a moment, hesitating to answer, but he finally gave his head a shake, they were already dead anyway, no harm done in sharing secrets. "...Joined the military - probably a tad bit too early - to get out of life, then S.A.S. called, ran multiple ops with them, one involving taking down some drug smuggling operations in Central America," He let out another bitter chuckle as his recall process continued. "You'd be surprised that this isn't the first time I got betrayed by my commanding officer."

Roach tilted his head slightly to his side, curiosity rising.

"Yeah," Simon bobbed his head up and down, clarifying his earlier statement. "Motherfucker spilled and got me and two others captured," He stopped to chew his lower lip, expression darkening. "Somehow managed to escape, and after months of rehab, got back and finished the job. It was not long after I got approached by that dirty yank to join the 141," Ghost finished, making sure that he put extra emphasis on the 'yank' - referring to General Shepherd - as it was coated with venom. "Then, I ran some more small ops with the 141 prior to KINGFISH, usually involving counter-terrorism and all that, and then I met you," He pointed at Roach, letting his anger dissipate and a small smile to grace his lips. "Well, we all know what happened next."

Gary gave a small nod, it was months before KINGFISH, he was a new transfer to the Task Force. A green, an F.N.G., being the most quiet operative back then, and adding the fact that his codename sounded somewhat stupid, even to the Roach himself, certainly didn't help him earn new friends. But Simon actually got out of character and approached him. The two ran several PE and training afterwards, and suddenly, a bond was formed just like that. Roach was still as quiet as ever, but he started to go out on drinking nights with his comrades more and more as months progressed. While said bond was still mostly professional, Ghost and Roach at least became one of the more closer friends within the Task Force.

"How about your family, then? You got any brothers, sisters or what not?" Ghost pressed further with his questions.

Roach shook his head a no. 'Only child,' his shrug seemed to muse, and once again tilting his head at Simon. 'You?' Still, he couldn't help but to sadly think about his parents back home, about their safety with all the battles raging on, and about their reaction when they've heard their only son has perished.

Ghost sighed yet again, talking about his family's history was never an easy thing to do. "Aye, just a small family. Dad, mum, an older brother..." He trailed off, head facing upwards in silence. "...Can't say I miss any of 'em, though. The 141 proved to be a better family anyway."

Sergeant Gary Sanderson didn't provide further gesture, indicating that he didn't want to pry too much, if the memory disturbed the Englishman too much.

"We weren't exactly close to each other," Simon continued. "And they've already passed on for some time now, so..."

With that conclusion, Roach could only nod, whilst giving a sympathized gaze at his comrade. '...Sorry to hear that.'

Ghost waved him off with a simple, dismissive shrug. "It's all behind me now - so no worries mate," Simon allowed himself another smile. "Maybe we can talk about this later, once this shite is over us... over beer, maybe? If heaven - or hell - has a pub that is," Ghost would've chuckled at this, but instead, he suddenly stopped his march, his softened expression hardened again in alert as he pointed an index finger forward, notifying his friend about something not far from their location. "Oi, look over there."

Gary trailed his sight to follow what Simon was pointing at, and just a few meters in front of them, they can see the light that was guiding them being split into two separate lines, presenting the both of them a crossroad of sorts. Roach frowned at this, but as usual, didn't say anything. After a few more seconds of hesitation, the men exchanged glances, and silently agreed to inspect the fork on the road. Although not showing it, through the false mask of tranquility, the two deceased soldiers felt the anxiety slowly creeping back to them. With all the things that'd happened, they weren't even sure if what they're experiencing was real.

When they approached the appointed area, the same mighty voice thundered again all around them. "Weary souls, you are now presented with two choices," It echoed, tone as enigmatic and mystic as ever. "The path to your right shall lead you to the afterlife, the path to your left shall lead you into a new world. Proceed accordingly."

The two soldiers simply blinked, confused.

"Well, they certainly don't around the bush..." Ghost muttered just above his breath, making sure his voice was heard, with his eyes narrowing suspiciously on the two highlighted paths. "What the hell did you mean by that? Afterlife? A new world? What's going on here - where are we?"

The voice didn't answer.

Ghost produced a few sputtered noises, stumbling over a few words. "Th... that's it? No explanation, no context, no nothing?" He let out a grumble of annoyance when his questions were left unanswered. "Jesus Christ... quite literally, maybe," He murmured. "The Man Upstairs really needs to hire better angels, if you ask me," He commented with heavy sarcasm. "You got any idea about what that asshole's talking about?"

Roach, unsure on what to say, just shrugged - this too, was also a new experience for him.

Ignoring his comrade's ever mute response, Ghost rubbed his own chin, a thoughtful hum escaping his lips. "So, either we go to hell... or heaven - who knows - or we get... resurrected?" He stated to no one in particular, sounding unsure of his own comment. "You think this is supposed to be one of those Buddhist reincarnation rituals? Something about having good karma and all that?"

The silent 141 soldier made the sign of the Cross with his dominant hand, and afterwards, he did another shrug, 'don't ask me, I'm a Catholic through and through.'

"Now you're just shrugging yourself out of style, mate. Stop it," Roach's supposed-CO launched a pained look at him. "Well... they did say we'll be led into a new world, so I suppose it's safe to assume that we're not going back to Russia."

Roach shuddered lightly, the way Ghost mentioned Russia triggered his memory of Shepherd's betrayal once again.

"So... what's the plan here, Gary?"

When he lifted his head, the Sergeant's eyes met the pensive expression on Ghost's face, it was that same confusion and resignation from before, that in turn, got the silent Sergeant to think and reflect. There they were - lost, tired, confused, and well... very much dead. For one, just being told to choose between the two fates in just a drop of a hand was too sudden, and with both choices equally as intriguing, if not - worrying. There was no denying that the both of them met their end in a bad time and probably too early in their past life. He knew the risks, being a soldier trapped within what could very well be the Third World War meant that his life expectancy was cut short, but he just didn't expect his own life to be taken so soon, and by an ally no less. That fact alone was disheartening for the 141 soldier, and if he was being honest, Roach wasn't sure if he could live through another life again with this kind of memory still fresh in his mid. He had nothing to lose, an only child, a man with no real history nor achievements to speak of, no real close relationships with the exception of his family and maybe some of the other operatives of the 141. He could just... easily leave all that baggage behind him and proceed to the afterlife.

He was tired, and he wanted nothing more but to just finally have his rest.

It was supposed to be an easy choice for Gary Sanderson.

But somehow, it wasn't.

The idea of living in a new world, starting a fresh new life away from all the drama and conflicts back home, away from all the nonstop stress and gunfire that was admittedly, probably slowly driving him insane, wasn't so bad of a choice either. Even if he's basically accepted his fate as a dead person, it would be a lie to say that he'd died without regrets. He still has so many regrets, he had dreams left unfulfilled, goals unachieved. And now, anger unsatisfied, unsatiated. He wanted to live, he wasn't exactly prepared to just head over to join his other comrades, only to bring the disappointing news that they'd been back-stabbed and probably dishonored the 141, and given the situation, it was probably the only chance he's getting, ever.

And he really, really didn't want to waste that chance.

Out of sheer unsure determination alone, Gary carefully lifted his right hand to point at the left fork his index finger slowly curling upwards to point at his choice.

Simon's eyes slightly widened in surprise at how quick his friend made his choice, even with the face terrified face he's making. But his emotion twisted to that of an understanding.

"...Reincarnation, eh?" Ghost crossed his arms, testing his fellow comrade's resolve. "...I see," He breathed out one loud breath of sigh. "Honestly, with how reckless you moved in practically any of our ops, I didn't expect you to value your own life right here and now," The small smirk formed unconsciously, but the Lieutenant let it slide.

Roach blinked twice, but he was fast to come back to his defense by throwing Simon and indignant look. 'I am not reckless.'

The smirk disappeared, and Ghost's lips pressed themselves, forming just a thin line. He closed his eyes and his jaw clenched - if Roach had to guess, the more superior officer was offering to silent prayer to whoever higher being can listen to him right now. And, he finally faced Roach with a hint of determination glinting on his gray eyes. "I'm... I'm coming with you, mate." It was now Roach's turn to reel his body back in surprise. Compared to him, Ghost had seen much worse, he'd gone through many horrors even before joining the 141. He thought that with all of the things Simon'd been through, he would choose to move on from all the bad memories and pass on.

To express his concerns, Roach lifted the both of his arms up, waved them a few times, before putting them down again, 'are... you sure about this?'

Instead, there he was now, an awkward arm slinging its way over Roach's shoulder.

"After all the shit we've been through together, Gary," Simon murmured, a light smile on his face. "...I think it's only fair that I have your back now. Besides, can't exactly say that I have anyone in particular waiting for me Up There anyway."

As the two faced the left-hand side of the road, and even through the uncertainty, their newfound sense of conviction and curiosity providing their legs with enough energy to break through their doubtful state and continue their march onward. Still, after just being thrust into a situation like that and choosing the fate of reincarnation made their anxieties rise, and their own apprehension regarding the predicament silencing their own lips from any further small talk. Instead, they busied themselves and let their minds travel to new potential opportunities waiting for them, with still so much questions swirling inside. They didn't know whether they would even be reincarnated as - for all Roach's knowledge served about the Buddhist ritual, they could easily be reborn as a defenseless animal, or as a newborn infant - with their prior memories completely wiped clean.

Either way, it was a bit... exciting for the late Gary Sanderson.

"Honestly, though..." Ghost spoke up again after some time, his voice only slightly wavering, also uneased by the idea of being reborn again in an unfamiliar world. "I was kinda expecting this whole process of... being greeted by an Angel or whatever to be more grandeur," He chuckled to dryly himself, imagination running with the possible scenario he had in mind. "Shining, holy, golden beams of light piercing from the realm above, heavenly strings playing all around us, and maybe God himself descend in a chariot of fire to judge our sins and finally give us a few pats on the back for a job well done in our past lives."

Roach sent a lopsided grin to his friend's way, now that's a side of Simon he hasn't seen before, his shoulders shook once or twice, giving the impression that the Sergeant was laughing, albeit soundlessly. 'that's... honestly super cheesy.'

No sooner than the two's lighthearted moment, their feet rooted themselves and they refused to move when a few blinding lights pierced through the nothingness in front of them, forcing the 141 operatives to reflexively shield their eyes from the sudden stimuli that overwhelmed their senses. What followed after the light was a roaring crescendo of bass, high-strings, and thunderous percussions rang from basically every direction, then there was the accompanying choirs, singing... something of otherwordly language that sounded like high praises. The holy performance continued for quite a while, leaving the two men dazed in its wake.

"Wanderers!" Another voice rumbled, this time different from the monotonous one they'd encountered before. And this one carried so much power and authority within it, that the non-existent ground beneath them shook from the might alone. Not unlike the other voice before however, this one also sounded genderless. "You are entering the realm of the Supreme God! Therefore - you must be judged!"

"Oh, are you fucking kidding me-" Simon started, sensing the irony in the situation, when compared to his earlier comments.

Whatever he said afterwards was left unheard, when Roach felt an unexpected jolt of immense pain in his head that numbed all of his senses, his hands moved up to hold his forehead, hoping the contact would stop the splitting headache. Gary's eyes squinted shut, with tears coming out due to the extreme and pulsing stings. His legs gave away and he curled up to a fetal position, rolling on the ground, desperately hoping the torment would go away. He wanted to scream, but all of his focus was already occupied on trying to dampen the discomfort. For some reason, though, he could also see multiple flashes from his past, deceased life flaring up multiple times, despite having his eyelids sealed. Memories of his childhood with his parents, as a greenhorn in the armed forces, then as a force to be reckoned with along with his other brothers and sisters of the 141, and finally his death at the hands of the American General.

With all of his senses overloading from the sheer torturous pain and his consciousness giving away, Gary Sanderson managed to hear one last thing from the godly deity that did this upon him.

"Wanderer, from your past life - we have judged, and the dice has been rolled. You are deemed worthy of entering the Supreme God's domain. For your just life and upright sense of justice, you shall receive our blessings. May your supplies be ever abundant. May your tools be forever polished. May your blades stay endlessly sharp, and may you never find yourself wanting. We have judged, and the dice has been rolled!"

When his body nulled, Sergeant Gary "Roach" Sanderson was finally glad that the sweet embrace of darkness came to finally take him away from the pain.

Author's Notes:

Okay. This has been... weird.

Let's just say that I kinda got a bit drunk, and combined with extreme insomnia and sheer boredom, I wrote this stuff. Like no joke, I started writing in maybe 1 in the morning, and now it's like 4:37 A.M., but nevertheless - hello, honorable readers. You've somehow reached the end of this trainwreck of a fiction I wrote. Keeping things simple: I like Call of Duty, I'm kinda interested in the premise of Goblin Slayer's dark fantasy, and with the help of a few cans of beer, I decided to make this. Now, truth be told, I've never been familiar with any of the reincarnation or resurrection or isekai or whatnot tropes these days, but I can't say that I'm not interested in the concept - but alas, I'm not an expert at these, and I won't deny that the 'afterlife' I've thought up here isn't as exciting or intriguing as other people's. You can probably find many, many works out there with much better starting chapters along with their own unique takes regarding the idea of resurrection.

Aside from that, you can probably tell from the chapter that this is going to be one of those 'resurrected as an OP character' or something, and yes, I'm also guilty as charged when it comes to being interested in power fantasies (Although I can at least assure you that even in fantasies, I like keep my stories grounded). However, I am also unaccustomed on writing a fic within that genre, so I won't blame it if many of you guys are already rolling your eyes at this story. I mean, the idea from this story literally came from me being drunk. Nevertheless, I hope you can at least find a bit of an enjoyment within this story, even with how absurd the idea of a COD x Goblin Slayer crossover is.

If you don't like this story, however. Well, I'm sorry for not writing something that isn't up to your standards.

Oh yeah, and sorry for any grammatical mistakes and for my limited vocabulary, as my pen name suggests, English is not my first language, so I'm sure you're bound to find mistakes or many phrases being repeated here.

And yes, I suck on making summaries. But hey, there's a game over quote reference anyway.

Traesto.