"It's a long wait but a worthy one," the armored skeleton said.
"No doubt." I said.
"How long is the wait usually?" Mira asked, hovering anxiously.
The skeleton in the top hat laughed—a dry, rattling sound. "Oh, you're in for a treat. I've been here for six hours."
"SIX HOURS?" the hare squeaked, pressing against my leg bones. "WE'RE GOING TO BE HERE FOR SIX HOURS?"
"At least," Top Hat said cheerfully. "The bureaucracy here is legendary. They process one person every fifteen to twenty minutes. Sometimes longer if there are complications."
"Complications?" I asked nervously.
"Oh, you know. Someone changing their mind halfway through the transformation and gumming up the whole process." He gestured toward the front of the line with a bony finger. "See that guy up there? He's been at the counter for forty-five minutes trying to decide between 'Forest Elf' and 'High Elf.' They're pretty much the same thing."
I looked. Sure enough, at the distant counter, a skeleton was gesturing frantically at what appeared to be a very patient clerk.
"This is going to be a long day," Mira muttered.
She was right.
After the first hour, I started getting fidgety. My bones ached from standing still—which seemed impossible given that I was bones and had nothing to ache, but somehow Hell found a way.
The line crawled forward. Every fifteen minutes, a brilliant flash of yellow light burst from the front, followed by gasps from the waiting skeletons. Someone had completed their transformation.
"What happened?" I asked the armored skeleton.
"Someone picked their race. The transformation is always flashy. Wait till you see it up close—it's quite something."
After another thirty minutes, I could finally see the process. A female skeleton stepped up to the counter, held a glowing orb, closed her eye sockets, and then—
FLASH.
Brilliant yellow light exploded from her form. When it faded, a humanoid tiger with orange and black stripes stood there, flexing her new fingers with a delighted laugh.
"Next!" the goblin clerk called.
"Okay," I admitted. "That was pretty cool."
By hour two, I was losing my mind. Standing in one place was torture. I shifted my weight, adjusted my grip on Kitten Cowboy, counted ceiling tiles, then tried not to count them.
The hare was worse. "THIS IS TERRIBLE," it moaned. "WHAT IF WE'RE IN THE WRONG LINE?"
"There's only one line," Mira said patiently.
Another flash. A skeleton became a massive orc and lumbered away grinning.
Twenty skeletons still ahead of us. At fifteen minutes each, that was five hours. Minimum.
"I'm going to go insane," I said.
By hour three, I'd given up on standing still. I did calf raises—the skeletal equivalent.
"Um, are you okay?" asked the skeleton behind me.
"Just stretching. Gotta stay limber."
"You're a skeleton. You don't have muscles."
"I KNOW THAT," I said, voice cracking. "But I need to do something or I'm going to start screaming."
I switched to arm circles while Kitten Cowboy watched, head tilted in confusion.
By hour five, I'd given up on dignity completely. I sat cross-legged on the floor, rocking slightly while Mira patted my skull.
"It's okay," she said. "We're almost there. Only ten more people."
"Ten people," I repeated hollowly. "That's still two and a half hours."
I watched another skeleton take forever at the counter, asking endless questions.
Finally, they chose. FLASH. An angel appeared—wings, halo, everything—and flew toward the exit.
"Show off," muttered Top Hat.
Hour six arrived like a punch to the non-existent gut.
There were only three people ahead of us now. Three. I could see the counter. I could see the goblin clerk's bored expression. I could see freedom.
But these final three people were taking forever.
FLASH.
"Next!"
Two more.
Thirty minutes later: FLASH.
"Next!"
One more person.
I was vibrating with anticipation, literally shaking, my bones rattling against each other.
"Almost there," Mira whispered encouragingly.
"WE'RE SO CLOSE," the hare said, equally tense.
Kitten Cowboy had woken up from a nap and was watching the counter with sharp attention, one paw resting on its revolver as if ready to shoot anyone who delayed our turn.
You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.
The skeleton ahead of us stepped up. They spoke to the clerk. They looked at the catalog. They nodded.
This was going to be quick. I could feel it.
They reached for the glowing orb—
And then stopped.
And asked another question.
And another.
And pointed at something in the catalog.
And asked another question.
"NO," I whispered. "No, no, no. Please. Please."
Twenty minutes passed.
Finally the skeleton ahead of us made their choice.
FLASH.
They transformed into a dwarf with a magnificent beard and walked away singing a mining song.
"NEXT!" the goblin clerk called out, sounding as tired and done with existence as I felt.
I scrambled to my feet so fast I nearly scattered my own bones. "THAT'S US! WE'RE NEXT!"
"Finally," Mira breathed.
I practically ran to the counter, Kitten Cowboy clutched in my arms, the hare hopping frantically at my heels.
The goblin clerk looked up at me with eyes that had seen too much bureaucracy and not enough coffee. He adjusted his spectacles with one green finger.
"Name?" he asked in a nasal, utterly bored voice.
"Daniel," I said quickly. "Daniel Keres."
"Daniel Keres," the clerk repeated, writing it down with a bored expression. The goblin pushed a thick catalog across the counter. "Pick your race. Take your time. Not too much time. But enough time to be sure. We don't do refunds."
I stared down at the catalog. It was massive—easily three hundred pages, with illustrations and descriptions for what looked like hundreds of different races.
"Oh no," I said softly.
"What?" Mira asked, leaning over to look.
The goblin clerk sighed deeply—the sigh of someone who had heard this exact sentence thousands of times before.
"I already know what I want to choose."
I pushed the catalog back toward the clerk.
"I don't need the catalog," I said firmly. "I want to be human."
The goblin clerk's quill stopped mid-scratch. He looked up at me slowly, his green face contorting into an expression of complete bewilderment.
"Human?" he repeated flatly.
"Yes. Human."
Behind me, I heard a collective gasp ripple through the line. Skeletons turned to stare. Someone dropped their catalog with a loud thump.
"Did he just say—"
"—human?—"
"—is he insane?—"
The armored skeleton from earlier leaned forward. "Friend, you're in Hell. You can be literally anything. Dragons. Demons. Angels. Phoenixes. And you want to be... human?"
"Yes," I said simply.
Top Hat adjusted his tattered headwear in shock. "But humans are so... ordinary. No special abilities. No immunities. No magic affinity worth mentioning."
"I know," I said.
"Then why?" several voices asked at once.
I turned to face the line of shocked skeletons. "Because I liked being human. I liked the simplicity of it. The challenge of it. Being human meant I had to work for everything. Just me, my choices, and what I made of them."
I looked back at the goblin clerk. "I spent my whole life as a human, and I was pretty good at it. I don't need to be anything else. I just want to be me again."
The clerk stared at me for a long moment, then shook his head slowly. "In thirty years of working this counter, I've had exactly four people choose human. Four. Out of thousands."
"Make it five," I said.
Mira hovered beside me, looking concerned. "Daniel, are you sure? Some of those other races had really cool abilities—"
"I'm sure," I said, and I realized I meant it. "I don't need cool abilities. I just need to be myself."
The goblin clerk sighed again and reached beneath his counter.
"Human it is," he said, pulling out a different orb. This one glowed with a soft, warm white light instead of yellow. "Standard human. You sure about this?"
"Absolutely."
He pushed the orb across the counter. "Hold the orb, focus on your choice, let the magic do the rest. Try not to scream—it freaks out the people in line. Any questions?"
"Will it hurt?"
"Probably not. Next question?"
I took the orb. It was warm in my skeletal hands, pulsing with a gentle rhythm like a heartbeat.
Behind me, I could hear the line of skeletons murmuring in disbelief.
"He's really doing it..."
"What a waste..."
"Bold choice, though..."
I closed my eye sockets and focused on myself—who I was, who I'd been, the person I wanted to be again.
The orb grew warmer.
Then hot.
Then burning.
I wanted to drop it, but I couldn't—my hands had locked around it, like the magic had fused my bones to its surface.
The heat spread through my skeletal form, racing up my arms, into my ribcage, through every bone in my body.
And then—
FLASH.
The world exploded into brilliant white light.
I felt my bones changing. Flesh growing over them, layer by layer, wrapping around my skeletal frame like a familiar coat being put back on. Muscles formed, tendons connected, organs materialized from nothing.
Skin spread across my new body—not gray, not scaled, not otherworldly. Just normal, human skin.
My empty eye sockets filled with actual eyes—brown eyes, my own eyes—and I could suddenly see with the depth and color I remembered from life.
Hair sprouted from my scalp, the same dark brown it had always been.
And through it all, I felt human in a way that was both familiar and miraculous.
The light faded.
I stumbled slightly, catching myself on the counter. Everything felt right. My height, my build, my proportions—all of it was me again.
I looked down at my hands.
They were just hands. Regular, human hands with normal skin tone and normal fingernails.
They were perfect.
"Whoa," I breathed, and my voice sounded like my voice. The one I remembered. The one I'd thought I'd lost forever.
I touched my face. I had a face. My nose. My lips. My cheekbones. Everything felt like home.
Kitten Cowboy, who I'd set down before taking the orb, looked up at me with wide golden eyes. The tiny gunslinger tilted its head, sniffed my leg, and then seemed to decide I was still the same person.
"Pew," it said approvingly, and went back to looking adorable.
I looked back at the goblin clerk, who was already pulling out paperwork. "How do I look?"
"Like a human," he said without looking up. He paused, then added grudgingly, "Honestly? Kind of refreshing. Here's your registration papers. Don't lose them. Next!"
I took the papers and stepped away from the counter.
The next skeleton in line hurried forward, but not before several others in line gave me looks of confusion, admiration, and bewilderment.
"Respect," Top Hat skeleton called out. "That took guts."
I nodded to him and headed for the exit, still marveling at my completely ordinary, wonderfully human body.
I still had my pink sash, my groin guard, and my glasses—apparently those had transformed with me. The glasses now sat properly on my nose instead of resting awkwardly on my skull.
"We should go," Mira said, still flying excitedly around me. "Before that demon finds us again."
"Right," I said, shaking off my amazement. "Right. Let's get out of here."
We headed for the exit, and I couldn't help but notice how natural walking felt with actual muscles and tendons. Every step was familiar, comfortable, mine.
As we pushed through the doors and back onto the streets of Hell's second floor, I took a deep breath.
An actual breath.
With actual lungs.
The air tasted like smoke.
It was overwhelming.
It was incredible.
And then the messages started.
They appeared in my vision like floating text, translucent and glowing faintly red:
Human physiology activated. Survival requirements restored.
-
Oxygen
-
Food
-
Water
-
Sleep All previous resistances removed. Welcome back to mortality.
Good luck!
The messages faded.
I stood there, staring at the empty air where they'd been.
"Daniel?" Mira asked nervously. "You okay? You look like you've seen a ghost. Which is ironic considering—"
"I need to eat," I said slowly. "And drink. And sleep."
"Well, yes, that's what humans do—"
The hare looked up at me. "You didn't think about that part, did you?"
"I..." I paused. "No. No, I did not think about that part."
Kitten Cowboy meowed and pawed at my leg, as if to say, You really should have read the fine print.
I felt my stomach—my actual stomach—twist with anxiety.
And then I felt something else.
Hunger.
Just a slight pang, but it was there. Real. Undeniable.
"Oh no," I whispered.
"What?" Mira asked.
"I'm already hungry."
The fairy stared at me. The hare stared at me. Even Kitten Cowboy seemed to be giving me a look.
"We need to find food," I said. "And water. And eventually, a place to sleep."
I looked down at my perfectly ordinary, wonderfully human, and now incredibly needy body.
"What have I done?" I muttered.
A notification appeared before my eyes, glowing with a triumphant golden light:
ACHIEVEMENT UNLOCKED: "What Have I Done?"
Made a questionable life decision and immediately regretted it.
Reward Earned: Emergency Survival Pack
-
1x Canteen (empty)
"Still think being human was a good idea?" said the hare.
"Ask me again after I've eaten," I said.