Paradise (2)
“Isn’t what you want a new life to live?”
“That’s true, but if we go to the paradise you’re talking about, sis, wouldn’t that make it impossible?”
“Why do you think it’s impossible?”
The Hero fell silent at my words, sinking deep into thought. Well, it was just a simple idea on his part. There’s no rule saying you can’t reincarnate just because you’ve entered paradise.
The reason that’s possible is that a soul is made up of hun and po, which separate more easily than you’d think, and all that’s needed for a soul to reincarnate into a new life is the hun.
I drew a picture in the air with my mana. A black-and-white taijitu. A diagram depicting the form of a soul where hun and po blend together.
“This is a simple representation of a soul’s structure.”
“White and black intertwined, huh.”
“Right. The white is hun. The black is po. Together, they’re called hunpo, or simply a soul. In this form, hun is the innate part, and po is the acquired part.”
I separated the black and white from the black-and-white taijitu, splitting it into two.
“After judgment in the underworld and a thorough cleansing, the soul loses its po and is left with pure hun. That hun is then possessed by the God of Birth into a new life—that’s the reincarnation process.”
“I vaguely remember hearing something like that before.”
It was part of the lessons taught while raising the Hero at the Life Temple before his adventures began. Impressive that he remembered.
“The key point here is that reincarnation only requires the hun. The po is the memories engraved while the soul lived that life. For a new life through reincarnation, past-life memories can’t remain.”
That said, sometimes a bit of po doesn’t get fully cleansed by mistake. But it’s just fragments, so people end up with faint past-life memories or talk about their underworld experiences—nothing major.
It’s all because the underworld is so swamped with work there’s no time to breathe.
“So that means… reincarnating from paradise would…”
“Exactly. Split the soul into hun and po, reincarnate the hun anew, but leave the po in paradise.”
Memories play a huge role in forming a person’s personality. If we can preserve those memories in paradise, it’s fine to reincarnate just the hun.
“After reincarnating that way, finishing the new life, and returning to the underworld… as long as they haven’t committed serious evils, they’d feel like they’re heading back to paradise.”
“And if they have committed evils?”
“We cleanse the evil soul. Once it’s purified, merge it back with the po left in paradise to restore the original soul. That’s the rough plan.”
Split the soul, store half, reincarnate half. Retrieve later. That way, even paradise residents could reincarnate.
Put simply, it’s like living in paradise, taking a short trip to the lower world, then returning to the heavens.
“Of course, it’d be an optional service for those who want it. Not mandatory.”
It’s still just a rough concept I haven’t fully built yet, so I’m worried about how it’ll turn out. But if I can control it properly… maybe preserving in paradise won’t just be like taxidermy.
“I don’t know the details, but it doesn’t sound easy.”
“Mm. True, but I’m used to handling souls. It’ll work out somehow.”
And I’ve got helpers. The three underworld gods as allies.
Well, they’re swamped with underworld work too, no time to breathe. But I can trade some help with their workload for assistance.
“Well, if it’s you doing it, sis, it’ll be fine.”
“It’s not like I succeed at everything.”
“But you always make it work somehow, don’t you? I can’t even imagine you failing at something.”
I don’t always succeed. I’ve smashed things to bits before.
Like the war among the dragons, or Erebos running off…
Ugh. Better not dwell on those. It just makes me mad.
I peeled an apple, cut it to a good size, and set it on the table beside the Hero’s bed.
“Eat it if you feel like it later.”
It’s an apple from a tree I grew with my mana, so just eating it restores life force. This should make his body feel a bit better.
“I don’t have much appetite.”
“You still need to eat something. Starve too long, and your insides will give out.”
His body, forged like steel through rigorous training and adventures, couldn’t withstand the years. It had withered, his firm muscles gone soft and sagging…
That frail form was telling us the Hero couldn’t hold on much longer.
Thanks to the massive mana reserves from constant training, his body had endured without proper food… but even that was reaching its limit.
Time to prepare our hearts a little.
“Well, the kids should be here soon. Wonder what story to tell them today…”
“How about the one where you slew the five-headed serpent in the east?”
Weird how snakes often turn into strong monsters. Is there something about snakes?
Lizards too—anything with scales tends to get powerful.
“Mm… Good material, but the plot’s kinda lame. Fermenting rice wine, getting it drunk, then chopping off its head while it sleeps… feels a bit sneaky for a hero.”
“But it worked out easy, didn’t it?”
That serpent came down to the village regularly, devouring people—only a few kids were left. Anyway, that’s old news.
“Or the giant bird in the southeast desert?”
“You basically caught that one, sis. I just hung on to its tail feathers and finished it off.”
“Still counts as your achievement, doesn’t it, Hero?”
My adventures with the Hero were piling up as fond memories. All the things we did together. Saving people. Time spent not just overlooking the world like a god, but living among mortals.
All of it accumulating inside me as memories.
“Well, I’ll head out then. See you later.”
“Yes. Take care.”
And so, the Hero and I exchanged goodbyes.
Once, I’d made a pouch from the wing membrane of a wyvern the Hero had slain. Connected to a subspace, it held far more than a normal pouch—hence, the infinite pouch.
Well, not truly infinite.
I didn’t need it, but when I gave it to the Hero, he used it well. Truth is, it was made for a different purpose: creating another world.
A tiny world inside the pouch, for experiments where I could shape it as I wished.
At first… mm, creating a world wasn’t easy. Even one the size of the pouch was tough.
But after tweaks and expansions, I’ve succeeded in making a fairly large world now.
Though it’s empty! A void space without even a handful of light.
I planned to use that emptiness… to create paradise.
I did consider making it in this world, but… I’d dug the underworld entrance deep in the unreachable northern edge. Then some guy barged in, hell-bent on reviving the dead.
So, paradise became a separate world.
Really… what guts did that kid have to find the underworld? How’d he even do it? I can’t fathom it.
A madman storming the underworld to save his parents… Now he’s stuck there as a herdsman, managing the layers.
Anyway, back to that kid later.
In the empty world, I’d impose entirely new laws, different from this one. Matter decomposes on its own; it’d be a world of souls.
A world expanding in size proportional to the number of souls entering paradise.
A world where anything desired manifests.
Where you can reunite with anyone in paradise.
Not in paradise? I pondered that… but it’d be a world where you meet recreations from memories.
Yeah, not the real person… but it’s the best I can do.
I can’t drag souls not in paradise into it just because someone wants it.
No helping it.
Anyway, a world where every desire is fulfilled. No strife, no wars, no fights.
What if someone entering wants war and fights? How’d they pass underworld judgment?
Still, just in case. Referencing Norse myths, I’ll prepare a space for them to battle endlessly.
Heroic souls in paradise might get competitive too.
Of course, only if they wish it themselves. No forcing fights on the unwilling.
A land flowing with milk and honey, free of pain or suffering forever.
For warriors, endless battle, death, revival, and feasting.
Whatever one desires, whatever one wishes—all granted.
And for those who want to leave, they can step out anytime.
That’s the world it’ll become.