Transcendent Flame

Yo!

Hope you are doing well. I know this is not what you are expecting after a long time, but writers block is not allowing me to write any of the regular stories, so I decided to break the wall and get back to writing something new. And here this is...

This is Bleach story, it's a fun idea (imo). I'm new to writing Bleach, so please keep that in mind! It would be great if you share your feedback and ideas with me.

Without further ado, let's get started.

Enjoy the chapter and story!

Transcendent Flame

Prologue

The Final Curtain

Malibu Mansion, California

The final moments of Luther Vlans played out like a scene from one of his movies, though this time, there would be no second take. Evening air drifted through the open balcony doors of his Malibu mansion, carrying with it the salt of the Pacific and the sweet scent of jasmine. The setting sun cast long shadows across his study, where scattered scripts lay forgotten on his desk – his planned directorial debut now destined to remain unrealized.

Luther stood at his wet bar, pouring himself a glass of scotch with the deliberate grace that had become second nature after decades in front of cameras. At forty-five, he still commanded attention – tall, broad-shouldered, with steel-gray eyes that had captivated audiences worldwide. His white dress shirt caught the fading light, creating an almost theatrical glow around his figure.

"You know, Amanda," he said, not turning to face the woman behind him, "in 'Death's Embrace,' my character had a similar moment. Funny how life imitates art." His voice carried that signature resonance that had earned him three Academy Awards, steady despite the gun he knew was pointed at his back.

Amanda Sterling, his girlfriend of six months, stood near the kitchen entrance. Her designer dress seemed at odds with the cold metal of the gun in her perfectly manicured hands. "Always the actor, aren't you, Luther? Even now, you're performing."

"Force of habit," he chuckled, turning to face her. His actor's mind couldn't help but appreciate the composition – the dying light, the beautiful assassin, the crystal tumbler catching amber reflections. "Though I must admit, this plot twist feels a bit... cliché. The young lover betraying the wealthy star? I'd have written it differently."

Amanda's fingers tightened around the gun, her knuckles whitening against the metal. "Your money will write a different story for me," her voice trembled slightly. "The grieving girlfriend inheriting the estate of the troubled star who took his own life."

Luther took a measured sip of his scotch, savoring the burn. "You really think anyone will believe that? I'm at the peak of my career, about to start directing my first film." He studied her face with the same intensity he'd once used to analyze his most challenging roles. "The press will have a field day with the inconsistencies."

"Depression can strike anyone, Luther. Even successful Hollywood stars." The gun steadied in her hands. "Besides, your suicide note is very convincing. I had plenty of time to study your handwriting."

A flash of genuine admiration crossed Luther's face. "Now that's method acting. I always appreciated dedication to a role." He set his glass down with a soft clink. "But you've forgotten something crucial about me, Amanda."

"And what's that?"

"In every role I've played, I've always—" The words died in his throat as the first shot rang out. The impact threw him backward, his hand clutching his chest as crimson bloomed across his white shirt. As he collapsed against the imported marble, his mind raced with crystal clarity. His lips moved, trying to form words as blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.

His body slumped against the cold marble, but Luther's consciousness lingered, caught in that surreal moment between life and death. Through dimming vision, he watched Amanda's trembling hands lower the gun, saw her carefully composed face crack with the first hints of realization. The perfect scene was unravelling – not how she'd scripted it at all.

"The Children's Cancer Foundation…" he managed again, blood bubbling at his lips, finding dark satisfaction in how her designer heels stumbled backward. His actor's mind, even now, appreciated the poetry – her pristine white dress spattered with tiny crimson droplets, like roses blooming in snow. "Everything... goes to them..."

The pain was strange – both distant and overwhelming, like watching himself in dailies while feeling every take at once. The room began to spin, reality fracturing at the edges like an overexposed film. Luther's thoughts scattered, fragments of scenes playing out in his fading consciousness: his first standing ovation, the weight of his first Oscar, the children's faces at the cancer ward he'd visited last month...

"No, no, no," Amanda's voice came from far away, panic replacing her earlier confidence. "This isn't... you were supposed to..."

'How amateur,' he thought with his last traces of clarity in satisfaction. 'Never improvise when you haven't studied the whole script.'

The darkness crept in, not like the gentle fade-to-black he'd performed dozens of times, but violent and absolute. Luther felt himself being torn away, his essence ripping free from flesh with the force of a hurricane. His last earthly sensation was the taste of copper and scotch on his tongue, his final earthly sight the dawning horror on Amanda's face as she realized her perfect performance had just become a tragedy of errors.

Then came the pull – inexorable, impossible to fight. Luther felt himself stretched across dimensions, his consciousness expanding beyond the confines of physical form. The world of solid matter and Hollywood glamour fell away like discarded props, replaced by...

Void Between Worlds

The transition hit like a special effect gone wrong – reality twisting, stretching, folding in on itself until Luther's consciousness scattered like light through a broken prism. Colours he had no names for exploded across his awareness, sensations that had no earthly equivalent overwhelmed what remained of his senses.

'This is what it feels like,' he thought with detached fascination, when the camera keeps rolling after the script ends.

Then, abruptly, stillness. The chaos settled into a void that somehow felt more substantial than reality itself. Luther found himself – though 'himself' seemed a questionable concept now – floating in a space that defied comprehension. Mathematical equations danced at the corners of his perception, cosmic forces weaving patterns his mind struggled to interpret.

"Welcome, Luther Vlans, to the space between spaces."

The voice wasn't really a voice at all, more like understanding being poured directly into his consciousness. Luther, ever the professional, found himself analyzing its quality – neither male nor female, neither young nor old, yet carrying authority that made studio executives sound like kindergarteners.

"That's..." he paused, realising he was speaking without a mouth, hearing without ears, "quite the entrance line. Though the setting's a bit minimalist for my taste. I'd have added some dramatic lighting, maybe a hint of cosmic background radiation."

"Always the performer," the voice responded, carrying what might have been amusement. "Even in death, you analyse the staging."

"Force of habit," Luther replied, surprised at how calm he felt. "Twenty years in the industry teaches you to notice these things. Though I must admit, this is a rather unique production value."

"I am what you would call the Interdimensional Afterlife System," the voice continued, "a construct governed by the absolute laws established by the Primordial itself. I oversee the transition and placement of beings across multiple realities, maintaining the delicate balance of existence."

Luther, ever the professional, took a moment to compose himself. "That's... quite the introduction. Though I admit, I expected something more along the lines of pearly gates or perhaps a more traditional judgement scenario."

"Tell me about yourself, Luther Vlans. Or should I say, Viktor Spark?"

A self-deprecating smile crossed what felt like his face—did he even have a face here? "What's there to tell? Started in community theater in Wisconsin, changed my name to Viktor Spark because Luther didn't sound like a leading man. Spent twenty years becoming what everyone wanted me to be: the dashing hero, the troubled antihero, the charismatic villain. Three Academy Awards, two failed marriages, and one bullet later, here I am."

He paused, feeling an unfamiliar vulnerability in this space where pretense seemed meaningless. "You know what's funny? In all those roles, all those lives I lived through characters, I never felt as real as I do right now, talking to a cosmic administrative system."

"And what do you desire now, Viktor? Your soul carries the weight of many lives, many roles."

"Honestly?" Luther let out a laugh that echoed strangely in the dimensionless space. "I'm tired. Not just of acting, but of the whole cycle. Life, death, success, failure... I've played every role except the one I never knew I wanted—someone who could actually make a difference. Someone who doesn't just pretend to be powerful, but actually has the power to protect others."

The void seemed to pulse with interest. "And if I offered you such a role? Not as an actor, but as someone who truly holds such power?"

"I'd ask what the catch is," Luther responded, his natural skepticism surfacing. "In my experience, the bigger the opportunity, the bigger the price tag."

"Wise," the System seemed to approve. "Tell me, Viktor, what draws you most? If you could embody any element of power, what would it be?"

Luther didn't hesitate. "Fire." A smile played across his consciousness. "I've played with many elements in my roles—commanded storms in 'Neptune's Wrath,' wielded lightning in 'Thunder God.' But fire... fire's different."

"Elaborate on fire," the System prompted, its presence shifting like flames in darkness.

"Fire is transformation," Luther explained, his actor's eloquence finding new purpose. "In 'Phoenix Rising,' I spent weeks with real firefighters. They taught me something fascinating—fire doesn't just destroy, it creates opportunities for renewal. It's primal, yet it can be controlled. Dangerous, yet necessary. Like life itself."

"Interesting. And if I offered you power over more... exotic elements? Space itself? The void? Time? Elements that could reshape reality?"

Luther chuckled. "You sound like my agent when he pitched 'Cosmic Sovereign.' But no—fire is honest. Raw. Real." He paused, weariness seeping into his thoughts. "Though honestly, right now, I'm not sure I want any power at all."

"Oh?" The System's interest seemed to sharpen.

"Look, I've spent my entire life chasing one role after another, always pushing for the next big thing, the next challenge. Even my death was a performance." Luther's consciousness rippled with a sigh. "Maybe what I really need is... rest. Time to just be, without having to prove anything or fight for something. No more struggles for success, no more fear of failure. Just... peace."

"A surprisingly humble desire for one who commanded such attention in life."

"Maybe death gives you perspective," Luther mused. "All those awards, the fame, the money—none of it meant anything in the end. And now you're here, presumably offering me another grand role, another chance at power and purpose. But I have to ask myself: am I ready for that? Don't I deserve a break before jumping into another life-changing performance?"

The void seemed to contemplate his words, its presence shifting like shadows in firelight. "And if I told you that this role could offer both? A chance at real power, yes, but also understanding? A purpose that might finally feel genuine rather than performed?"

Luther let the silence stretch, a technique he'd learned from his best dramatic roles. "You're suggesting there's a middle ground? Between rest and responsibility?"

"Perhaps," the System's tone carried a hint of approval at his perception. "What if I told you that this role would allow you to understand both power and peace in ways your human existence never could? To experience the quiet strength of flame at rest, as well as its explosive potential?"

"Wait," Luther interrupted, a realization dawning. "This sounds like those Japanese stories my nephew keeps talking about—what are they called? Isekai? Where people die and get reborn in fantasy worlds?" He couldn't keep the amusement from his voice. "Am I about to be transported to some magical realm with a status screen and leveling system?"

The System's response carried what felt like genuine mirth. "Nothing so... manufactured. What I offer is both simpler and infinitely more complex. A role that would allow you to experience true power while understanding why it matters to sometimes hold it in check."

"Before we go further," Luther said, falling back on years of contract negotiations, "I want to know everything about where I'm going. The whole world, its rules, its history—everything. I've signed enough contracts blindly in Hollywood to know better now."

"Impossible," the System stated flatly. "However, I can offer you the complete knowledge and memories of the being you would become, up until the moment of their death."

Luther's disappointment must have been palpable because the System continued, its tone carrying an unusual hint of conspiracy. "But perhaps... I could offer certain other advantages. Abilities and insights not typically granted to those in your position. Things that would make your... performance uniquely your own."

"What kind of abilities?" Viktor's interest piqued despite his earlier desire for rest.

"Accept the role, and you'll discover them. Consider them like... director's cuts of your new existence. A chance to not just play the part, but to truly shape it."

Luther fell silent, weighing the offer. Part of him—the practical, Hollywood-hardened part—screamed that this was madness. Another part yearned for the rest he'd spoken of. But a third part, perhaps the same part that had driven him to pursue acting in the first place, recognized this as an opportunity for something genuine.

"You know," he said finally, "in 'Method Man,' I played an actor who became so absorbed in his roles that he lost himself. The critics called it my most meta performance." He paused, allowing himself to appreciate the cosmic irony. "I suppose it's time to find out if I can do better than my character."

"Is that a yes?" The System's presence seemed to lean forward, expectant.

"It's a 'show me the script,'" he replied, his voice carrying both resignation and curiosity. "But first, tell me about this role you have in mind. And please—" his tone turned wry, "—tell me it's not another troubled antihero with daddy issues. I've played enough of those to last several lifetimes."

The void shifted around them, preparing to reveal what would become Luther's greatest transformation yet. "Oh, this role is far from troubled," the System's tone carried a hint of amusement. "Hands-on experience tends to be more... memorable."

Luther stared into the void with practiced incredulity—the kind he'd perfected over countless auditions. "Hands-on experience? Really? That's your pitch?" He let out a laugh that echoed strangely in the dimensionless space. "You know, this reminds me of my first big action role. Director said, 'Just jump off the building, you'll figure out the wire work mid-fall.'"

"An apt comparison," the System replied, unperturbed.

"I broke my arm in three places," Viktor added dryly.

"Then perhaps you learned the value of adapting quickly."

"Oh, you're good," Luther muttered. 'Just like those studio executives,' he thought, 'sitting there all knowing and cryptic, holding all the cards while expecting you to sign away your life—or in this case, afterlife—on blind faith. At least the studios gave you a script outline.'

The System maintained its patient silence, reminding Luther of his first major director who would just... wait. Wait until the uncomfortable silence forced you to either walk away or commit fully. 'Cosmic entity or not,' Luther thought, 'some tactics never change.'

Finally, he threw up his hands—or whatever passed for hands in this void. "You know what? This is exactly like my breakthrough role in 'Leap of Faith.' Everyone said I was crazy to take a religious drama when I was branded as an action star." He paused, appreciating the parallel. "That role changed my life. Won my first Oscar for it."

"And this role?" the System prompted.

"This role might just change my death," Luther finished with a wry smile. "Fine. I'm in. But I swear if this turns out to be some cosmic reality show—"

The void suddenly shifted, taking on a liquid quality that began to envelop him. Panic seized him momentarily. "Wait! One last thing—will I remember? My life, my experiences, who I was?"

The System's voice took on an almost musical quality. "You'll remember everything needed. Some memories will fade like old scripts, others will burn bright as stage lights. But the essence of who you are—that will remain."

Luther felt himself being pulled, stretched, transformed. The System's final words echoed through his dissolving consciousness:

"I'll be with you —observing, assessing, and ...guiding. In recognition of your skills and the role you'll play, I grant you this name, Viktor, as your Transcendent name. Let it be your anchor in the flames to come."

The name 'Viktor' seared itself into his being, not just as a memory but as a fundamental truth of his existence. As the last threads of his consciousness began to unravel and reform, Viktor could have sworn he felt something like amusement and anticipation from the System, as if it was settling in to watch the performance of a lifetime.

'Break a leg,' he thought ironically, as reality itself began to reconstruct around him. The thought dissolved mid-formation as the transmigration took hold, pulling him toward his new destiny with the unstoppable force of a final curtain fall.

And Cut!

That's it for this part folks.

Some info on the update schedule, I have scheduled all updates for the next 3 weeks. You will get 1 update a day, 2 on Saturday, at 7pm Central Time. On Saturdays, it will be 7pm and 7 am Central Time.

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Ja Ne.