I Got Isekai'd to Another Planet

June didn't bring her phone this time.

She didn't need to leave a note. She didn't need a goodbye. She didn't want her final moments memorialized by cracked screens and pity-clicked tributes.

She just wanted quiet.

Her feet carried her toward the warehouse like they weren't hers anymore. The streets were nearly empty, a Sunday afternoon lull hanging in the air. A few cars. A barking dog. A rusted sign creaking in the wind.

She walked the same route she'd walked a dozen times before, past the same closed bakery, the same half-dead bush, the same crooked traffic pole.

Today, the calm felt different.

Not numb.

Not broken.

Just... finished.

The warehouse was only a few blocks ahead now. Just past the crossing.

She didn't hear the truck at first. It wasn't speeding. It wasn't skidding. It was just... there.

A delivery vehicle, wide and white, with faded lettering on the side and one busted headlight.

She stepped off the curb.

And that's when it hit her.

Not the realization.

Not the emotion.

The truck.

She didn't have time to scream.

There was no slow-motion moment. No flash of memory. No music swelling.

Just steel.

Just impact.

Just a blinding, white-hot snap of pain and then everything turned black.

It could have ended there.

By all rights, it should have.

No grand finale.

No poetic last breath.

Just a meaningless death on a meaningless street, right before she could even end her own story the way she wanted.

But that's not what happened.

June opened her eyes to fire-colored skies.

The ground beneath her was metallic. Cold. Sharp-edged. Smooth, but alien. She sat up slowly.

Around her stretched a courtyard, no, a massive arena the size of a city block, ringed by shimmering towers and black monoliths that pierced the clouds. Bright lights buzzed overhead, suspended in the air with no cables, no source.

And people.

So many people.

Packed shoulder to shoulder. Rows upon rows. Standing, stunned, silent.

June's breath caught.

There were at least a million of them.

All wearing the same thing, purple cargo prison suits. A large white number stenciled across their right chest and back. She looked down.

0099372.

The number felt... final. Branded. Like she was already part of something bigger than herself.

She touched her face. No blood. No bruise. Her body was whole again. No pain.

But it wasn't hers anymore. Not really.

She wasn't on Earth.

She wasn't alive.

Something had changed.

A sound split the sky.

Not thunder. Not music.

A voice.

No, voices layered over each other. Male, female, neither. Deep and rumbling like mountains moving. Soft and bright like whispers in dreams.

All speaking as one.

"You have been chosen."

Everyone froze.

The air thickened, and June felt it, like pressure behind her eyes, crawling along her spine.

"One million souls. Torn from the brink. Each of you died in... unfortunate accidents."

A wave of murmurs spread across the crowd. Some cried. Some cursed. Some dropped to their knees.

June didn't react.

Of course she died in an accident.

Of course she didn't even get that right.

"But death is not the end. Not for you."

Above them, shimmering forms began to take shape. Figures made of golden fractals and shifting geometry. Wings without feathers. Faces without features. Gods but not the kind from myths.

They weren't beautiful.

They weren't kind.

They were perfect in the way knives are perfect, made to cut.

"You have been brought here to play. To earn. To ascend."

One of the god-voices laughed, high and echoing.

"A thousand games for a thousand days. A single winner shall emerge."

"One will rise to take our place."

"The rest..."

Silence.

Then, like a blade slicing through metal:

"Will be forgotten."

The crowd gasped. Someone near June shouted, "Forgotten? What does that mean?!"

Another god-voice answered, gently.

"If you die in the games, you die completely. No afterlife. No memory. Not even a name on a gravestone."

"Only the survivors will remember you existed at all."

June's chest tightened.

That was worse than death.

That was erasure.

"But fear not," another voice cooed. "You have been given a gift. A second chance. A glorious opportunity."

A holographic display appeared in the sky. Faces and numbers. Spinning wheels. Icons of arenas, lava pits, jungles, icy cliffs, starships.

"The games will begin tomorrow. Your uniforms are fitted with survival tech and tracking nodes. No powers. No weapons. Only what you earn."

June blinked.

"And remember, there is no quitting. There is no running. Only playing. Until you rise... or vanish."

Then, the god-voices faded, like echoes down a well.

The sky darkened. The towers pulsed. A sound, like a million locks clicking into place, filled the air.

The crowd began to scatter in panic, screaming, stumbling. Some tried to run. Others collapsed. Fights broke out. Tears. Begging.

June stood perfectly still.

She didn't move.

Didn't speak.

Didn't scream.

She looked down at her hands, unscarred, trembling, clenched into fists.

She'd tried to die.

Not for attention. Not for revenge.

Just to stop existing.

And now?

Now the universe had yanked her back in and thrown her into some cosmic game show run by geometrical gods who wanted her to compete for godhood like it was a carnival prize?

She should've been angry.

She should've been terrified.

But she wasn't.

She was numb.

So numb it burned.

And in that numbness, a single, bitter laugh escaped her lips.

The same thought echoed in her skull like a bell.

Typical. I can't even do this right.