DEATH NOT FOUND

Asha remained motionless for hours, his thoughts consumed by the imminent start of demigod school in three days, a directive from his absent father, Hades. The Lord of the Underworld seldom visited his son in person, preferring to rely on undead messengers to deliver information and orders. While Asha in the novel was angered by this, the Asha of reality recognized that Hades' intentions were to provide him with a semblance of normality.

Asha roused himself from his introspection and made his way to the kitchen, retrieving a kitchen knife with a tentative hand. The journey to unlock his hidden abilities, he knew, would require a sacrifice: his own life. The memory of his past death still haunted him, a reminder of the agony he would face once again. He steeled himself and plunged the knife towards his neck, only to hesitate, his resolve wavering in the face of fear.

As Asha stared down at the cold steel blade, his mind raced with a thousand thoughts and fears. He recalled the agonizing moments of his past death, the pain that had seared through his body. And yet, he knew that this was his path, his destiny.

With a trembling hand, he steeled his resolve and moved to plunge the knife into his flesh once again, only to falter. A sense of foreboding washed over him, a feeling of dread and uncertainty. The prospect of pain, of the unknown, threatened to consume him. With heavy breaths and wide, apprehensive eyes, Asha stared at the blade, the proverbial threshold to his awakening.

Asha's resolve finally hardened, driven by a singular idea that crystallized in the depths of his mind, like a spark of light in the darkness.

The hours of internal struggle had been intense, but in that moment, Asha felt a shift, a clarity of mind that steeled him against the inevitable pain and suffering. 

********

With a newfound resolve, Asha set about constructing the means to end his life once more. Standing atop a chair, he fashioned a noose from a thin blanket, and with a final, determined flourish, tore open the ceiling, creating a makeshift scaffold from which to hang himself. As he looked upon his youthful, attractive form, a hint of doubt crept into his voice as he murmured, "If this doesn't work, then goodbye, handsomely perfect body with a big dick."

As Asha launched himself into the air, the makeshift rope went taut, and he was lifted from the ground, suspended by his neck. And yet, instead of the excruciating pain he remembered from his past life, he felt nothing. Confusion and a tinge of panic set in as the minutes ticked by with no sign of the sweet release of death. 

"Why isn't it working?" he wondered, frantically scanning his surroundings for any clue as to why this method had failed. The realization dawned on him, striking like a bolt of lightning: He was not dying.