2 Transmigration[1]
A 30-year-old man, worn beyond his years, sat hunched over in the dim glow of his computer screen.
Shadows pooled beneath his weary eyes, deepening the exhaustion carved into his face. His fingers hovered over the keyboard.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Click. Click.
The rhythmic keystrokes echoed through the quiet room, broken only by the occasional clicking of the mouse.
Since that day, I had tried—again and again—to reach the endgame. The last chapter of Arcadia: The Last Horizon.
No matter how many times I played. No matter how many variables I tested.
I had never reached the final arc.
Every attempt ended the same way failure, frustration, and disappointment.
But tonight felt different.
A hollow chuckle escaped my lips.
"Damn. To think this game still has me by the throat after all these years."
It wasn't just a game. It was an obsession. A shitty one at that. Like an ex who never even spared you a glance, yet you couldn't stop texting her.
Arcadia: The Last Horizon was more than just a masterpiece. It was a cultural phenomenon, the kind of game that kept players theorizing for decades.
Every hidden quest had been explored, every choice analyzed, yet one mystery remained unsolved.
The ending.
Some said it was a myth, a cruel joke by the developers. Others believed it was locked behind some absurd conditions no one had met.
But I knew it was real.
I wasn't just some random player. Before I got fired, I worked as a manual tester for the game's development company.
I had spent years testing builds, breaking mechanics, and analyzing unfinished content. I had seen things, hints, placeholders, secrets buried deep in the code.
There was an ending.
I just had to reach it.
I wasn't a pro. Not a streamer. Just another nameless player in a world that didn't care.
In real life, I was nobody. No ambition. No future. No purpose.
But in Arcadia?
I was someone.
And now, after years of searching, thousands of hours, and more failures than I could count.
I was staring at the screen.
A single keystroke, and I would enter the final arc.
I exhaled, steadying my nerves.
"This time, I'll definitely make it through the final arc."
Tap.
The screen flickered.
Then…
Darkness.
My heart skipped a beat.
"...What?"
I blinked. My fingers hovered over the keyboard. No response. No loading screen. No menu. Just pitch-black nothingness.
"No. No, no, no."
"This…" My pulse pounded in my ears. "Don't tell me it crashed now—!"
I gritted my teeth.
I slammed the keys. Nothing.
Mouse click. Nothing.
A cold dread clawed up my spine. Had I bricked the game?
I sucked in a sharp breath, forcing my hands to stay steady. "Okay. Okay. Maybe it's just... a transition? A hidden cutscene? A glitch? Something...?"
Before I could finish my thought, the monitor burst to life—blinding white light erupting from it.
"Ugh!"
My pupils shrank, the world dissolving into blinding white. My vision blurred, and the words I tried to speak vanished into the radiance, swallowed whole.
I stumbled, disoriented, as the light overwhelmed me. The chair lurched, and my balance gave way.
Crash.
I was falling…
Thud.
A sharp pain exploded at the back of my skull. My vision flickered, thoughts scattering like leaves in a storm.
'Damn… I was just about to reach the final arc, only to…'
Everything went black.
***
A dull ache pulsed through my skull as awareness returned in fragments.
Chirp... chirp...
The rhythmic song of birds filtered through my senses, soft, almost soothing. My breathing steadied as my mind slowly pieced itself back together.
My eyes fluttered open.
The familiar dimness of my cluttered apartment was gone.
Instead, I stared up at a ceiling I had never seen before.
It wasn't grand, but it was... nicer? Clean, orderly, modest but well-kept.
I sat up, my movements sluggish. My limbs felt light. My balance... off.
A creeping unease settled in my chest.
"Where am I?"
My gaze darted across the unfamiliar room, wooden furniture, neatly arranged bookshelves, a single desk against the wall.
Everything about it felt real. Lived-in.
But this wasn't my home.
I shoved the blanket aside and swung my legs over the edge of the bed. As I stood, my breath came faster, uneven. My head spun.
My body felt... wrong.
Lighter. Smaller.
My gaze landed on the mirror across the room.
And when I saw my reflection.
I froze.
A stranger stared back at me.
The person in the mirror... it was me. But at the same time, it wasn't.
Snowy-white hair framed the face, falling just past the shoulders, a striking contrast to the faint golden hue of the irises.
The features were sharp yet hauntingly delicate, not just handsome but almost unnervingly beautiful.
But beneath that beauty, the body was skinny, almost fragile-looking.
"What the hell?" My voice came out higher. Smoother.
I reached up, trembling fingers brushing against my skin. A shiver ran through me.
'Too perfect.'
'Is that... really me?'
My reflection didn't blink or change expression. It just stared back, quietly perfect.
"This... this can't be real," I muttered, running my fingers through the unnaturally soft white strands. "I finally get a glow-up, but why do I look like I'm straight out of a shoujo manga?"
A terrible thought crossed my mind.
Looking downward, I hesitated.
"Please let me still be…" I muttered, fingers already tugging at the waistband of my pants. My breath hitched as I glanced down.
Pause.
"Phew. Still a guy."
For a brief moment, I allowed myself to relax.
"This dream, it was the best one I'd ever had."
But…
A sharp pang shot through my chest.
My heart was racing, my ribs expanding too quickly with each breath.
I pressed a hand to my chest, feeling the pulse of life beneath my fingertips, the coolness of my skin, and the weight of my body.
"It was too real."
"This has to be a dream, right?" I muttered, as if saying it aloud would make it true.
But the creak of the wooden floor beneath my feet. The softness of the fabric as I gripped my sleeve. The distant scent of farmland carried by the wind—
It was all too vivid.
I staggered back from the mirror, dizzy. My knees wobbled.
'This is real, isn't it?'
I pinched my arm. Hard.
Pain flared.
A chill shot down my spine.
My breath quickened.
A sharp pain shot through my head.
My knees hit the floor with a thud, and I clutched my chest, sweat dripping from my trembling body.
'Yeah... I remember now.'
"Last night, I was playing Arcadia, so close to the final arc. Then... server crash... darkness... blinding light... I stumbled. My chair tipped, and my head slammed into the desk."
A dreadful possibility crept into my mind.
"Wait… did I die? Is that why I'm here?"
A silence hung over me. Heavy. Inescapable.
I forced myself toward the window. Pulled the curtain aside,
And my heart stopped.
Rolling fields of golden grain stretched into the distance, rippling in the wind.
Massive grain silos loomed on the horizon. Further out, stone and metal buildings marked the city's edge, smoke curling from industrial chimneys.
Then, my gaze locked onto the sky.
Twin suns.
"This…"
A wave of dizziness crashed over me. I gripped the window frame as my knees buckled.
This wasn't Earth.
This was....
"Thalvoria."
My pulse pounded in my ears.
I knew this place.
I had spent years playing Arcadia.
"F**k…" I muttered under my breath, my voice trembling.
"Why this place of all places? And just because I accidentally got knocked my head? I didn't even die in some epic way, just a stupid accident."
I stared out at the horizon, where one sun burned gold and the other loomed dark. The wind carried the scent of grain and distant industry, a strange mix of the familiar and the alien.
And now…
I was inside it.