Chapter 2: You Will Never Know Peace, James
In a cold stone chamber, James awoke to find himself trapped between silent walls and a lone, medium-sized bed.
He jolted upright, his eyes burning with hatred and confusion. He had no idea where he was, nor how he ended up in this dark place.
As memories of his beloved mother's death floated back to him, followed by the sting of his lover's betrayal, his weakened body collapsed under the weight of agony.
He fell to his knees and buried his face in his hands as a hysterical wave of bitter sobbing overtook him.
He cried with an intensity he had never known before—tears streamed from his eyes like heavy rain in a raging storm.
His white hair draped over his bare chest, adding a haunting sorrow to the scene.
James remained like that for an unknown length of time, consumed by regret. The greatest torment crushing his heart was the fact that he had left his mother without a proper burial.
He had run from a cruel reality he couldn't face after years of suffering; to give up in the end—that was the burden he could no longer bear.
James rose from the ground like a corpse freshly emerged from its grave. His body swayed unsteadily, almost collapsing again.
But as he struggled to stand, a sharp, piercing scream tore through the silence of the room. Clutching his head with both hands in frantic desperation, he felt as though a violent thunderbolt had struck the core of his mind.
A horrifying flood of memories surged into his brain at once, crashing into him like a raging torrent—yet the terrifying thing was that they were not his own.
He couldn't process them; unfamiliar scenes raced through his mind without order or coherence.
The unbearable pain forced him to scream again before he fell to the ground violently, his knees slamming against the cold stone floor.
Just before his exhausted eyes shut into unconsciousness, the door burst open with frantic intensity.
A young woman rushed toward him, screaming his name in panic, but James could no longer endure the overwhelming agony.
He surrendered to the darkness as her desperate cries echoed around him.
James was terrifyingly lost; he didn't know where he was. The only thing he was certain of was that he had slit his own throat with his own hands.
So why was he here? Why was he in this stone room? And who was the girl shouting his name?
Countless logical questions stormed through his frightened, "dead" mind. Even the strange memories that attacked him moments ago made no sense—disjointed scenes, fragments of a missing puzzle. His body felt unfamiliar, incomplete… as though it wasn't his own.
Suddenly, a terrifying realization struck him:
He hadn't died.
He had transferred into another person's body.
He was now imprisoned inside a completely foreign identity.
James wanted desperately to believe this new truth, to accept the reality that he had moved into another body. But at the same time, he rejected it with equal force. He hadn't wanted to live in the first place; he had killed himself because he no longer wished to exist in this wretched world.
He spiraled into an endless vortex of conflicting emotions—a suffocating mix of sadness, despair, and terror. Hatred was the thread tying them all together: hatred for himself, for life, and for a fate that denied him peace even in death.
He muttered broken words into the void around him, as if pleading with the heavens:
"Death… death… death… Why won't you take me? Why won't you give me peace?"
His new body trembled beneath the weight of this unrelenting existential torment. Yet he knew no one could hear him in this cold, silent place. He was speaking to himself, aware of the absurdity of the situation—alive against his will, begging for death after being thrown into a stranger's body.
"James!"
He heard the young woman's voice again, the same one that had called his name moments before he fainted. The sound drifted toward him as if from a distant tunnel, faint and distorted.
He couldn't move. Couldn't respond. His new body was completely paralyzed. Only his hearing remained active, picking up her repeated calls until they faded as he sank deeper into darkness.
"James! Please… please wake up! Don't leave me alone!"
The woman sobbed in panic, her heart pounding like war drums as tears streamed down her face. She placed her head on James's unmoving hand.
A small child approached, gripping the edge of her dress anxiously, his innocent eyes filled with fear and confusion.
"Mom… is Dad dead? Will he wake up? Did he hit his head when he fell? Why are you crying?"
The young woman tried to steady her breathing to answer, but the boy continued, tears welling as he saw his mother sobbing and his father unconscious on the bed.
"Mom… why are you crying? Is Dad—"
She cut him off, hugging him tightly in desperate comfort.
"No, my son… your father will wake up. Don't cry, sweetheart."
She whispered as she wiped both their tears with trembling hands.
The room was heavy with grief, fear, and suffocating tension—a dark veil of despair hung over everything. Amid this painful scene, James heard everything clearly from behind the veil of his coma.
He wanted to respond, to reassure them, but he couldn't. He wanted to shout, "I'm here!"—yet he was powerless. Despite knowing nothing about these people, a profound sadness tore at his heart. Was it his own humanity, or the lingering emotions of the body's original owner?
Each time their cries grew louder, a piece of his heart felt like it was being ripped apart. He screamed inwardly, willing even a single finger to move—but nothing changed. Only darkness and helplessness embraced him.
He tried again and again—first time, second time, tenth time—yet his body remained still. But he didn't give up. With the last of his inner strength, he attempted one final time.
On the twelfth attempt, the impossible happened:
His fingers twitched.
The young woman noticed immediately, freezing in shock before her eyes widened with overwhelming hope. She lifted her head from his chest and stared at his hand with breathless anticipation.
"James… are you…?" she whispered, trembling between fear and relief.
Without waiting for a response, she placed her ear to his chest again. She had assumed earlier that he had fainted from exhaustion or something else. But when she carried him to the bed and checked his heartbeat, horror struck her:
His heart had been silent.
But now… she heard faint but unmistakable heartbeats.
A mountain lifted from her shoulders. She exhaled shakily, relief flooding through her chest—a fragile hope returning to life.
"Mom! Is Dad okay? He moved, didn't he?" the little boy asked anxiously, eyes fixed on James's still form.
She smiled softly through her lingering fear.
"Yes, sweetheart… your father is fine. I think he just needs a bit more time to wake up."
After countless attempts to fight the thick darkness pulling him into unconsciousness, James realized he was slipping into a deep coma. He pushed and struggled against the silence, trying to cling to the voices calling him.
But after a long, exhausting battle, the darkness swallowed him completely. He surrendered to the coma.
"Hahaha!"
A bitter laugh echoed in the depths of James's mind.
"How strange… once I wanted death, yet it refused to take me. And now, just when I start feeling like I don't want to die because of a few kind strangers… that bastard death wants to take me again!"
His voice was a mixture of sarcasm and despair.
"I'm nothing but a toy in the hands of some god… a puppet for amusement," he whispered with crushing hopelessness.
"Hey, God! If you can hear me, leave me alone! I just moved into another body, for heaven's sake! Shouldn't you be helping me adjust instead of torturing me?! Damn you!"
He shouted these thoughts in fury, assuming no one would hear him in the void of his coma.
But someone did.
Not a human in the room… but an ancient, mysterious entity.
"Hahaha! What an interesting boy!"
A sinister voice spoke gleefully. A figure sat upon a black throne, its face obscured, radiating dark, terrifying energy. A crooked smile twisted its features.
"Why not? I'll give you something useful. You'll thank me later, poor thing."
James, drowning in his own darkness, didn't hear him.
The dark figure watched him through a glowing white crystal orb, studying him like a mouse in a maze. Then he crushed the orb casually between his fingers. A red gleam flashed in his eyes.
"Let's see if you use this power wisely. If you disappoint me… I'll make you regret your insult a billion times over. You'll beg for death… but never receive it."
Black energy surged from the throne, consuming the shattered orb.
The stone room where James lay remained silent—until the silence was broken.
[ Family Ascension System Activated ]
A mechanical voice echoed inside James's mind, piercing through his coma.
Then another:
[ Congratulations! A reward has been granted for the system's initial awakening. ]
[ First reward: Awakening from the Dark Slumber. Delivering reward… ]
In that instant, James felt a strange power surge through him, lifting him violently from the depths of the coma. His awareness began to sharpen, and control over his new body slowly returned.
******************
This is a Discord server open to anyone who has ideas for projects and wants to share them with me and others. Feel free to join: https://discord.gg/WH7zNzE7