'Guys, this is my first time with Transmigration.'
Most people hope to see a bright light when they die. Maybe their grandma waving at them, or a pearly gate, or at least a "Game Over" screen.
Me?
I saw a tire tread.
Specifically, a tire tread the size of a two-story house attached to a red-and-blue semi-truck-like figure. Maybe I was out of my mind... or maybe it was a meteoroid that was currently falling from outer space.
One moment, I was rich. I was walking the field for my dad's new factory, feeling the wind in my hair, thinking about how good my life was. I had money. I had time. I had just perfected my shadow boxing form to imitate Baki Hanma. I was ready to conquer the world—or at least, buy a large chunk of it.
Then the sky screamed.
I looked up. Four comets. Beautiful, really. Majestic. Until the lead comet decided to introduce my face to the dirt.
Squish.
That was it. No epic battle. No saving the universe. Just... squish. I got taken out by Optimus Prime's landing.
Now, before you ask how I knew it was Optimus Prime! I saw the big bitch machine move and stand up and say "Sorry" to me... even a kid would know that I was in the world of Transformers. Uh-huh.
'Seriously? Out of all the ways to go? I don't even get a monologue?'
Darkness hit me like a sledgehammer.
"Vivan? Vivan!"
The voice was annoying. High-pitched. It drilled into my ear like a mosquito that refused to die.
My eyes snapped open.
I wasn't flat. I wasn't paste on the bottom of an Autobot's foot. I was... sitting?
Hard wood pressed against my back. The smell of chalk dust and floor wax filled my nose—a distinct, stale smell that only exists in old basements or public schools. I blinked.
I looked down at my hands.
'Okay guys, this is my second time doing Transmigration.'
They were small. Pale. Weak. No calluses from lifting weights. No scars from my stupid attempts at parkour. These were the hands of a twelve-year-old who hadn't touched grass in a decade.
'What the...'
I touched my face. Soft skin. No stubble.
"Dude, are you okay? You zoned out hard," the whisper came again.
I turned my head.
A boy was leaning toward me. He had a bowl cut that looked like it was done with a literal bowl and kitchen shears. Big, worried, puppy-dog eyes. He was wearing a flannel shirt that screamed "1980s bargain bin."
My heart stopped. I knew that face. I had watched that face cry on Netflix for four seasons.
'Will Byers.'
I whipped my head around the basement. To my left, a curly-haired kid chewing on a pen—Dustin. Behind him, a kid with intense eyes glaring at the clock—Lucas. And the lanky one answering the Dustin—Mike.
Memories that weren't mine flooded my brain, headache-inducing and sharp.
My Name is Vivan Frostwell.I am in Hawkins, Indiana.And today's date is November 6, 1983.
My blood ran cold.
'1983. Hawkins. Will Byers is still here.'
I glanced at Will again. He looked innocent. Fragile. Like a stiff breeze would knock him over.
'It's today. Tonight. On his way home... the Demogorgon is gonna send him a love letter.'
Panic clawed at my throat. I wasn't a superhero. I was a twelve-year-old extra in a horror show where faces opened up like flowers and people got eaten by interdimensional plants.
'Fuck this shit, I will just leave the US and move to some other country... but I am just a 12-year-old kid now... How will I convince my parents??'
Ding!
A clear, crisp sound rang out. Not in the room. In my skull.
A blue, translucent screen flickered into existence right over Will's head.
'Nevermind.'
[ Invitation Received ][ You have been invited to join the Chat Group: "Heroes of Questionable Decisions" ]
'WTF is that name?'
I stared at the floating text. My fingers gripped the edge of my desk so hard my knuckles turned white.
'A system? A cheat? Finally. Okay, universe, you owe me this after the Optimus incident.'
[ Do you accept? Y/N ]
'Yes. Obviously, yes. I'm not dying in the 80s.'
I focused my thought on the [Y].
[ Welcome, "The Glitch". ]
[ Current Members Online: ]
A list populated the screen. But instead of real names, I saw titles. My otaku brain instantly kicked into overdrive. I needed to know who I was dealing with. Knowledge was survival.
King of Curses
What a Drag
Zero
Ice General
Scarlet Witch
Snake Princess
Autobot Leader
Scam Developer (Admin)
Ambition Incarnate
Control Freak
I swallowed hard, my eyes darting down the list, analyzing each one.
'King of Curses... That's easy. Ryomen Sukuna from Jujutsu Kaisen. A cannibalistic murder-demon. Fantastic start. Just great.'
'What a Drag... Shikamaru Nara. Naruto. Okay, he's chill. Lazy, but smart. Probably the only sane person here.'
'Zero... Lelouch vi Britannia. Code Geass. The guy who starts rebellions and mind-controls people to commit suicide. Note to self: Do not look him in the eye... wait, does Geass work over text?'
'Ice General... Esdeath. Akame ga Kill. A sadist who treats war crimes like a hobby. Why are there so many psychopaths in this group? I can uhm... correct her.'
'Scarlet Witch... lol super easy guess. Btw which version??... Wanda Maximoff. Scarlet Witch. Reality warping. Please tell me she's mentally stable. Please tell me she's not in her "No More Mutants" phase.'
'Snake Princess... Boa Hancock. One Piece. Okay, she's arrogant, but manageable. Unless I annoy her, then I turn to stone.'
Then my eyes hit the next one.
'Autobot Leader.'
My breath hitched. My heart started pounding a furious rhythm against my ribs. The trauma was fresh. I could still feel the weight of a thousand tons of Cybertronian metal crushing my leg and spine.
'Optimus. It's him. The f**ker who killed me is in the chat.'
I forced myself to keep reading, trying to calm down.
'Scam Developer... who is the Admin?' I frowned. 'Scam Developer? Is it a game dev? Kayaba Akihiko? No, he's not a scammer, he's a murderer. Someone who loves money? Nami? No, she's not a dev. I have no idea.'
'Ambition Incarnate.' I stared at the words. 'That's vague. Could be anyone. Griffith? Frieza? Doctor Doom? It radiates "Generic Bad Guy" energy, but I can't pin it down.'
'Control Freak.' My brow furrowed. 'Someone who likes control. A strict mom? No, this is fiction. Maybe... someone from a political anime? Or a gamer? Blank from No Game No Life? No clue.'
[ System Notice: New Member "The Glitch" has joined. ][ System Notice: Titles are now reverting to True Names for the new member to ease integration. ]
The text shimmered and shifted. The answers revealed themselves.
Scam Developer became Lloyd Frontera.
Ambition Incarnate became Sosuke Aizen.
Control Freak became Makima.
I nearly choked on my own spit.
'Lloyd Frontera? From The Greatest Estate Developer? That maniac is the Admin?! Wait, that actually explains the "Scam" part perfectly.'
'Sosuke Aizen. Bleach. The guy who planned his own birth. The villain who practices evil laughs in 4K resolution. The man who betrays people he hasn't even met yet.'
'And Makima. Chainsaw Man. The Control Devil. Oh f**k... but she is sexy.'
I slumped back in my chair, ignoring the teacher's voice. This wasn't a chat group anymore.
Sukuna. Aizen. Makima. Esdeath. Lelouch.
And Lloyd... I am super scared of him. It was funny when I was reading the manhwa, but being in a financial blast radius of that guy? Terrifying.
And me. Vivan. A twelve-year-old with a bowl-cut friend and a Trapper Keeper.
'I am so dead.'
The chat log pinged.
Lloyd Frontera (Admin): @The Glitch Welcome, new customer—I mean, friend! Before you ask, yes, this is real. No, you aren't dreaming. And yes, I accept gold, rare metals, or manual labor as tribute. Read the pinned rules.
Shikamaru Nara: Great. Another one. Just don't be troublesome.
Optimus Prime: Greetings. I am Optimus Prime. It is an honor to meet a lifeform from another world. Peace be with you.
Something inside me snapped.
Peace? Peace?!
The sheer audacity of this metal truck pretending to be a pacifist after flattening me in my previous life. The image of the tire tread flashed in my mind. The sound of the squish. The "Sorry."
My hands shook. I didn't care about Aizen. I didn't care about Makima. I mentally screamed at the keyboard interface that appeared in my mind.
Vivan Frostwell: Peace? PEACE?! YOU LANDED ON ME!
The chat went silent for a solid three seconds.
Lelouch vi Britannia: ...Excuse me?
Vivan Frostwell: @Optimus Prime You big red scrap heap! I was walking to my dad's factory, minding my own business, and you dropped from orbit onto my head!
'Wait... it typed my thoughts??'
I froze, staring at the blue screen floating in the air. I hadn't lifted a finger. I had just thought the insults with pure, unadulterated rage, and the system had transcribed them.
'Why aren't these sending then? Maybe when I concentrate!'
Panic surged.
'I am f**ked. Now they know I am a transmigrator, Still what can they do with that, No, I should not underestimate anyone...there is still him Sosuke Aizen... I have to be careful from now on.'
Optimus Prime: ....
Ryomen Sukuna: Hah.
Esdeath: Weak. If you died from merely being landed on, you deserved to perish.
Wanda Maximoff: That sounds... painful. Are you alright?
Vivan Frostwell: NO! I'm in the 80s! The internet doesn't exist yet! And there are monsters here!
'Oh God, I did it again. Shut up, brain! Stop thinking loudly!'
Sosuke Aizen: Interesting. A transmigrator with a grudge against a fellow member. This group continues to be fascinating.
Lloyd Frontera (Admin): Wait, wait. You died? That means you have zero assets? You're broke? Ugh. Useless.
I slumped back in my chair, burying my face in my hands.
'I just yelled at Optimus Prime in front of Aizen and Sukuna. Great first impression, Vivan. Really great.'
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