1 Chapter 1: Transmigration

DisclaimerLord of the Mysteries belong to the CuttlefishI only own my OC(s) and this story~~~

Early 4th Epoch, after Cataclysm, some years after The Warring Era.

 "Where am I…?" A young man muttered in confusion. He was lying on the ground, his form beaten up with his whole body covered in the dark and blue bruises.

 (He wakes up in a body that is obviously not his.)

 At that moment he was looking around, a sharp pain pierced his brain.

 (And the memories not belonging to him enter his mind like a tide.)

 "Ahhhhhhhhh!"

 He closed his eyes tightly and streams of tears trailed down his cheeks.

 The whole space was filled with the young man's shouting and after a long, long time, the young man opened his eyes again.

 This time, his eyes weren't as confused and lost as before. Instead, they were filled with clarity.

 He blinked his eyes slowly and stared at the descending sun blankly. Afterwards, he pushed himself off the ground.

 "Ouch, ouch," he grimaced, holding his sides. "These bastards really did me a number," he said, eyeing the wounds all over his body.

 A glint appeared in his eyes, different from the dull and empty eyes of his 'moments' ago.

 Of course, what is owed must be paid , and revenge is naturally in order.

 The young man's name was Zenith, no last name. His parents couldn't be any more ordinary. A pair of slaves happened to fall in love and a child was born.

 Thus, Zenith, no last name, was born as a slave, lived as a slave, and died as a slave.

 Yes, Zenith, the real Zenith had already died. In his place occupying his body was a young man from the 21st Century, who also died moments ago.

 He remembered going up the stairs, to the rooftop. He remembered it being a rainy night. He remembered having a fight with his girlfriend on the phone call. He remembered angrily stomping away because of his bad mood.

 And then… he remembered falling to his death from the rooftop. He remembered panicking. He remembered that he did try to grab something and he really did grab something.

 It was just that… the thing he grabbed, his lifeline, was wet in the rain and was incredibly slippery.

 So, in the end…

 "However, something is strange…" Zenith pressed his clenched fist to his lips, his brows furrowed together in thoughts, "I do remember falling from the height but I don't remember my body hitting the ground. Could it be because I was too panicked?"

 Suddenly, something flashed his mind.

 "Wait… I remember seeing the moon turned crimson for a second. Does my situation have anything to do with that?"

 Crimson moon…

 The moon was usually ivory silver-white in colour. Even if it was a blood moon, it really wasn't that red. However, the moon he saw before the last moment of his death felt like it was drenched in blood.

 At that night, it was raining heavily and the grey clouds obscured the view of the moon. When he was falling to his death, he really was too panicked. After all, he was young, had a bright future, and he naturally didn't want to die soon.

 The building was more than ten stories in height and he took the sweet time falling to his death. And death didn't rush him, after all it was going to have him in its grasp very soon.

 It was at that moment he saw 'it'. The clouds moved away from the moon and it was silver at the start. However the next second, the moon started bleeding and was glowing crimson.

 It was also the moment when he lost consciousness.

 "Is there any possibility that I didn't really die back then?" Zenith thought in curiosity. Of course, if possible, he wanted to go back. His family was there; his girlfriend was there; his friends were there; and his everything was there.

 "I'm afraid that even if I manage to go back, I will just fall to death," He smiled bitterly, "I just hope that they will not take the news of my death too badly".

 Of course, he also hoped that he wasn't arguing with his girlfriend just before he died.

 Thinking of the things he lost and will never get back, he was sad for a while.

 (And he allowed himself to mourn for second– for himself, for the original body owner, for his family, and for the life he will never have again–)

 "Whew…"

 He sighed. When he arrived at this world, the sun had started to fade away and was going beneath the horizon. Now, it was already night and the moon was shining brightly.

 But the moon wasn't glowing silver but red.

 Yes.

 It was the same red he had seen before his death.

 Zenith thought about the original body owner. He was quite a pitiful one. He was born as a slave and his greatest wish was to no longer be a slave, to be free, to be able to eat as much as he wanted, and to live like a human being.

 Such a simple wish yet it wasn't granted and he died a dog's death.

 Just now, the original body owner was beaten to death by slavers because he tried to escape.

 Who could fault him? After all, no one wanted to be a slave. It was the same for him.

 He looked around and saw the barren lands. It was obvious that this world was many centuries behind twenty first's booming technologies.

 There were no toilets, no concrete, not even old-fashioned radios, and etc.

 "Have you finally finished playing dead?" A man's voice was heard. (A language he has never heard nor known. Hermes, his mind whispers, and that makes everything worse, because it has now been made crystal clear that he is in another world altogether. His original body is possibly dead, the body he is inhibiting– the body he has stolen, his mind hisses, and oh God really?, too is dead. And dead-er than dead could ever be.)

 (The body had been stolen. And now, where had the soul gone, too?)

 (He mourned again. He really did not want to face the consequence of something he had not done.)

 The man was glaring at Zenith from afar. He had dark brown, sun-tanned, and nearly dark skin tone, and a head full of coarse black hair. His face was rough and his structure was tall and muscular.

 The man– Zenith had an impression of him inside this body's memory. He was the dictator of the slavery ring around this area. In other words, a manager of sorts.

 Of course, he still had a boss, boss' boss and many other bosses behind him.

 Zenith looked at him with cold eyes. He wanted to take revenge for the body's original owner and other slaves. From the perspective of someone from modern days, no one deserved to be a slave.

 "Why aren't you answering me? Have you finally gone deaf?" The middle-aged man was strangely agitated by the slave before him. He took large strides toward Zenith and slapped him across on the cheek. For a moment, Zenith couldn't hear anything. There was only a dull sound ringing in his ears. He tasted the fishy-iron taste in his mouth and his eyes were downcasted.

 The man felt a sense of superiority as he looked at Zenith and said: "Don't forget today's lesson. Be obedient, don't try to escape anymore or you will be sent to some pudgy old man for a fuck."

 The man leered, looking at Zenith from top to bottom, and Zenith distantly thought, Xavier, I finally remembered, his name is Xavier. What an ugly ass name… Almost as ugly as him.

 "Go back to your cell. I hope I don't catch wind of you trying to escape again."

 There's a snitch. And more than one. Many people hated Zenith's guts in this God's Forbidden place. After all, Zenith's appearance, although not as visually stunning, was mildly pretty, pleasing to the eyes, and his melancholic temperament was a plus in some people's eyes. Of course, these narrow-minded dogs (he is– was a polite young man. But now, manners be damned. He could not care less, thank you) only know how to be jealous. They don't understand what it means to be a slave with an appearance like this.

 To be honest, he was usually a civil person and didn't like violence. However, that didn't mean he was a soft persimmon that would let others trample over him.

 I am Zenith, and Zenith is me now. Rest in peace, Zenith, I will take revenge for you, fulfil your wishes, and I will let you live like a human.

 Although he too wished to break out of this place right here right now, it was a bad idea.

 First, he didn't know the layout of this place. Second, he had to know the routine of the guards for the betterment of the plan. Third, he wished to gather more information about this world.

 Zenith limped back to his cell following his memory. This world was roughly divided by the continents and he was in the Southern continent.

 As far as he knew –as far as the memory of this body goes– the Southern continent's rulers can said to be the Eggers family. In fact, many of the slavery rings were connected to them. They practised the customs of the God of Death here and worshipped 'Him'.

 In fact, more than seventy-five percent of this world's slaves came from the Southern continent.

 Compared to the Southern continent, the Northern continent was simply a paradise. The aesthetic of asymmetry could be incomprehensible to some, and the rules might be strict—

 But they had more human rights over there.

 (Human rights… What a funny thing to say in this world. It is not that the Northern continent has no slaves. In fact, it was the same no matter where you go in this world. They just have lesser slaves. It was a strong-eat-weak; survival-of-the-fittest world.)

 (And Zenith, the weak and pitiful Zenith, he is just waiting to be eaten, isn't he?)

 (He from the 21st century, where the slavery had long been abolished, couldn't stomach it. He wanted to vomit, his heart was clouded by nausea, and the bile crawled up his throat. Still, he swallowed it. He could only swallow it.)

 (After all, supernatural powers out of normal humans' reach exist in this world. What can… a single, pathetically weak, Zenith do in this world?)

 (How funny. Wanting to play hero to others when even his own survival isn't guaranteed.)

 The road to his cell was a long one. On the way, many eyes were on him; some filled with pity, some with malice, and some with schadenfreude.

 This world was obviously not a pretty one. Even among the same rank as fellow slaves, discrimination still existed. And Zenith was the one of the people being discriminated against.

 It was a surreal experience, to say the least.

 The cell was apparently underground. Zenith stopped for a second at the entrance. In front of him was a dark staircase with seemingly no light, appearing like a dark behemoth waiting to swallow the unsuspecting bystanders. However, it really couldn't swallow the bystanders because it could only wait for others to walk into its mouth.

 And then, there were the foolish people who would walk right into its mouth.

 Zenith resumed walking and descended into the darkness. The stairway wasn't as large as he thought. It was narrow and could only allow two people to walk in together at most.

 In front of him was boundless darkness, Zenith in him was used to it, but the young man from the modern era was positively panicking.

 For God's sake, which sane person would want to walk through an underground stairway like this!? He thought bitterly, right, if given a choice, which sane person would be willing?

 It wasn't a wise choice to close the eyes while descending the stairs enveloped by the darkness, however Zenith couldn't help but want to close his eyes. Ignorance is bliss, they say, and he wanted to ignore everything and pretend it never happened.

 Walking through it, he could only hear his breathing and felt like he was the only one in the whole world. And he couldn't help but feel like the darkness was closing on to him.

 Only when the faint light of wall kerosene entered his eyes, did he finally heave a sigh of relief.

 At the end of the staircase was a flat ground. From the faint light provided from the kerosene, he could see numerous cells and its inhabitants. The people inside the cells had a numb and empty look on their faces without exception. They were like zombies, whose only purpose was to obey and nothing else. Despair lingered in the air and hope wasn't even an option.

 Zenith remembered, the original body owner had been like that too. The first time he had tried to escape –and trying to escape was commendable in itself. Because he was born a slave and he wasn't like the newly bought in slaves who still knew the taste of hope– he was quickly brought back to his cell.

 The first time– they had been pretty lenient.

 The second time– they simply beat him to death.

 Looking at the people numbly sitting without souls, and hope for living, Zenith became afraid. He was afraid that he would one day become like that–

 Someone who only knows how to obey, and lost the will to fight- lost the will to live on and finding it one day that his original self has disappeared.

 He trudged through the cells and finally arrived back to his own cell. It was a little far from the staircase and was in the innermost part of the underground.

 "Yo, you are finally back?" A boy with dirty blond hair asked, no, more like ridiculed him. As if him failing to escape was in line with his expectation.

 The boy was one of his cellmates– Alma Roffe, and one of the few slaves who have a last name. Right now, he was leaning against the moss-covered dirty wall and after hearing his 'greeting', Zenith immediately knew who was the one that snitched him to Xavier.

 This boy appeared lively and that set him apart from others. He seemed to be waiting for Zenith's response, his eyes were expectant.

 Zenith clenched his hands, untrimmed long nails dug into his palms and the acute pain managed to calm him down.

 The corners of Zenith's lips quirked up (he is barely managing himself not to get into a fight with the brat. It is not because he is suddenly being a goody-two shoes. But because he knows that he can't win. At least not with his injuries), and he just walked past him.

 "What the hell…?" Alma rubbed his arms that exploded in goosebumps. Those strange eyes and smiles… "Did he get possessed? No, did he finally go crazy?" He muttered to himself while looking at Zenith's back.

 His eyes were filled with no small amount of suspicion and curiosity. How curious… 

 Alma's brown eyes narrowed and an excited smile appeared on his face.

 Meanwhile, Zenith curled up in his usual corner in the cell and closed his eyes. One's soul into another's body …Transmigration, heh?

 Why me…?