“Loki, wake up. This place is full of magic,” Lori urged, trying to wake Loki. They were forest bandits.
“That’s enough. This kid’s just a beggar—weak, powerless, and without a single penny to his name. Damn it, what rotten luck, running into this poor kid,” Lori grumbled.
He glanced at the boy sprawled on the ground.
“Forget it. Don’t bother with him. Let’s get out of here,” Loki replied irritably.
A hiss sounded.
“Why can’t I summon any strength? My whole body feels like it’s being torn apart and stiffened at the same time. The pain is absolutely unbearable!!!
What happened to me? Did I pass out during training?”
A hazy flash of memory entered his mind. Harry vaguely heard a fragment of conversation nearby. His thoughts began searching for the reason he was trapped in this fog. His hiss grew longer from the unbearable pain, and he sucked in a sharp breath when he realized there was a foreign weight inside his body. When Harry opened his eyes, all he could see was the jagged silhouette of treetops against a sky half-shrouded in darkness.
And the voices were still close.
“Since he doesn’t have anything valuable we can take, we should just leave him here. If someone sees him and traces him back to us, we’ll only get into trouble,” Loki told his companion Lori.
“Leaving him here would be such a waste. I’d rather just eat him,” Lori muttered.
“Suit yourself. But hurry...”
The words drew closer, accompanied by a thread of fear tightening around Harry’s chest.
Their language felt strange—the rhythm and structure resembled English, but it was clearly different. Even so, he understood it perfectly.
“Wait... eat him? Eat me?!”
Fear seized him. Gritting his teeth against the incredible pain, he forced himself upright.
“This bastard isn’t dead?” a rough, unfamiliar voice jeered. It was Lori’s voice.
Harry turned and saw a man with a thick beard and a prominent nose, dressed in coarse cloth. His face looked Western. His smile was vicious, and another figure lurked in the shadows behind him—slimmer, with his face concealed, yet no less alien in appearance.
Was I kidnapped? Impossible. With my training and vigilance, no one could’ve taken me without my knowing.
Harry Vaughan was the son of a family skilled in martial arts. After high school, he enlisted and served in the elite battalion of the central state. Vigilance had been ingrained in him.
And yet here he was, bewildered by what had happened to him.
Then he began to notice that the man’s clothing reminded him of the Western medieval era. The pistol and dagger at their waists, along with the massive sledgehammer the man held, looked incredibly menacing.
Could it be... have I crossed into another world?
The thought made no sense, but it was the only explanation Harry could come up with.
Then his head suddenly began to spin, and a flood of memories surged into his mind: a world of magic, dragons, fairies, dwarves, steam engines, and vast kingdoms.
And then another memory entered his mind.
The body he now inhabited had once belonged to Aria Vaughana, the son of a wealthy merchant whose fortune had spread far and wide. Spoiled by wealth, Aria had spent his days lazing around and partying every day without a care in the world.
But one day, something he had never imagined came to pass. His once-powerful father and wealthy merchant was suddenly declared bankrupt, losing all of his assets. Although he had left a small amount of money for his children to squander, it wasn’t enough for them. The news of his father’s bankruptcy made Aria reluctant to return home.
That was what Aria felt—ruin. Yet despite his reluctance, Aria ignored the warning and still wanted to go home. All he found there was disappointment when his siblings told him that their parents had been murdered and that the local authorities had closed the case.
After the funeral, his siblings scattered, each clinging tightly to their share of the dwindling inheritance. Aria, adrift and dazed, spent months wandering until his wallet was nearly empty. In desperation, he bought an incredibly cheap house in a remote area of the Kingdom of Calista. But the house he lived in constantly filled him with fear, since it was isolated and located in an area where bandits often roamed.
This morning, while returning from the market with supplies, he was attacked from behind—pain and darkness came rushing toward him... and now Harry realized that he had awakened in Aria Vaughana’s body.
And it was real...
“I’ve transmigrated.”
The realization struck him at once. Harry Vaughan regulated his breathing, his eyes fixed on the bearded man walking toward him.
With his body weak and dizziness still washing over him, he had little chance of fighting two fierce adult men in front of him.
But Harry was trained—and had been reborn. As long as there was still a chance, he would try his best.
His gaze sharpened as he studied his attackers, calculating every detail.
“What’s wrong? Cat got your tongue? Just lie down and die, kid!” Lori snapped angrily.
The bearded man roared as he raised his sledgehammer, his massive arm ready to bring it crashing down on Harry.
But when the sledgehammer was almost upon him, Harry’s eyes narrowed. His right hand curled, his knuckles bending like the fangs of a venomous snake striking its prey. Then Harry shot forward, driving his fist into the man’s throat.
They had considered him weak and helpless. They had never expected a surprise attack like this.
The bearded man coughed, his head drooping and his tongue lolling out as he struggled for air. Harry’s hand snapped back, while his left hand seized the dagger from the man’s belt. With one fluid motion, he brutally slit the savage’s throat.
The shadowy figure reacted, but it was already too late.
With his right hand, Harry yanked the revolver free and released the safety. Using Lori’s dying body as cover, he took aim and pulled the trigger.
Bang!
The gunshot shattered the forest’s silence, sending flocks of birds scattering in every direction.
The lurking enemy’s skull split open, and his body collapsed lifelessly to the ground.
Everything went smoothly, as if he had practiced it countless times.
Harry shoved the bearded man away after taking his life.
Those savage bandits were truly cruel and heartless. Harry himself staggered when pain ripped through his abdomen. Lifting his shirt, he saw four half-healed slash wounds—and one that had reopened, blood pouring from it.
So those bastards...
His brow furrowed as he tore off a strip of cloth to cover the wound.
Then he noticed that the beasts were still breathing, their bodies convulsing.
Harry’s eyes widened.
The man’s face warped grotesquely. His mouth pushed outward, while coarse black fur spread across his cheeks like flames.
What the hell—a werewolf! The memories within him left no room for doubt.
Without hesitation, Harry raised his revolver to the enemy’s forehead. Transformation took time—time he had no intention of giving him.
Click.
No shot rang out.
What the—?
He pressed the safety again, then pulled the trigger. Still nothing.
As he opened the cylinder, he froze.
Empty. There wasn’t a single bullet.
Cursing, Harry tossed the revolver aside. He gripped the dagger, charged forward, and forced the monster to the ground, driving the blade into the half-healed wound in its throat.
The werewolf thrashed wildly, its immense strength nearly overwhelming Harry despite his weight advantage. Its half-formed jaws clamped down on his left wrist, its fangs sinking deep as burning pain exploded up his arm.
But Harry didn’t flinch. His right hand kept moving, sawing through veins and bone.
At last, the savage’s head came free. Its resistance stopped, and the crushing pressure on his arm vanished.
Breathing heavily, Harry rotated his injured wrist.
Then he staggered toward the second corpse. Nothing strange had happened to this body, but Glenn, unwilling to take any chances, decapitated it as well.
Only then did he collapse to the ground, his lungs constricted and his heart pounding hard against his chest.
What a beginning... so close to death.
His wounds were still bleeding, but after resting for a moment, he bandaged them as best he could and rose. Gritting his teeth, he limped through the darkness toward the place that was now his home.