And then everything vanished.
The roaring torrent of distorted mana, the spiralling flood of impossible colours, the violent twisting sensation that had consumed his entire consciousness moments earlier — all of it disappeared so suddenly that the transition itself felt unnatural.
One moment, he had been rushing toward his glorious new life with manic excitement burning through every thought in his mind, and the next, there was only silence.
Not the empty, abstract silence of the void from before, but something heavier and denser.
A silence that felt alive. It pressed against him from every direction with an invisible weight that grew more noticeable the longer he remained within it.
At first, the transmigrator barely paid attention to the strange sensation around him.
His thoughts were still racing too quickly, overflowing with excitement, greed, and anticipation as the reality of what had just happened finally settled fully into his mind.
He had actually done it.
He had died, met some incomprehensible cosmic existence, and successfully entered the world of his favourite fantasy academy novel. The thought alone sent another violent rush of exhilaration through his consciousness.
The world of Astralis.
The Astralis Grand Academy.
The heroines.
The rankings, the fame, the power.
A greedy grin stretched across his awareness despite the lack of a physical face to express it.
'Holy shit… this is actually real.'
Even now, part of him still couldn't fully believe it.
His old life already felt distant and meaningless compared to what waited ahead of him now.
No more wasting away in front of glowing screens while fantasizing about fictional worlds where he mattered. No more empty routines. No more being irrelevant.
The dull, mediocre life he had left behind suddenly felt laughably insignificant compared to the future waiting for him here.
Because this time?
This time he already knew everything.
The plot.
The future.
The villains.
The hidden opportunities.
The heroines.
Most importantly, he knew exactly who the protagonist was supposed to be.
And that made things hilariously easy.
The original protagonist had only succeeded because the story practically bent itself around him. A system, absurd luck, perfect timing, endless plot armour… it had honestly been ridiculous when he thought about it.
Half the "genius" moments in the novel had happened because the universe itself handed the protagonist convenient opportunities at the perfect moment.
But now?
Now someone "better" was entering the story.
Someone who already knew where everything was hidden.
Someone who could take every opportunity before the so-called "chosen protagonist" even realized they existed.
His thoughts wandered greedily again, and immediately, vivid fantasies flooded his mind. The luxuries that world has to offer. The adventures. The massive duelling arenas packed with cheering crowds while his name echoed across the globe. The attention… the admiration… the envy.
And of course…
The girls.
His imagination immediately drifted back toward Selene again, because honestly, how could it not? The image of the cold silver-haired noble beauty beneath him surfaced vividly inside his mind, icy blue eyes trembling with humiliation and frustration while her proud facade slowly broke apart.
Then came Nysera, her teasing smirk finally cracking while he pinned her somewhere hidden within the academy grounds, crimson eyes darkened with desire instead of arrogance.
The beastwoman followed after that, then the elegant elf prodigy, then the saintess herself — every fantasy more shameless than the last as his excitement spiralled further out of control.
In his mind, the heroines already belonged to him. The protagonist's future already belonged to him. This world itself already belonged to him.
And that was precisely why the discomfort creeping around his consciousness took him several moments to notice.
At first, it was subtle. Just a strange heaviness pressing faintly against him from somewhere deep within the surrounding darkness.
The sensation reminded him vaguely of sinking deeper underwater, except the "water" surrounding him felt unnaturally warm. Oppressively warm.
Not painful, but uncomfortable enough that it slowly dragged his thoughts away from his fantasies.
His grin faded slightly.
'…What is this?'
The question echoed silently through his mind.
No answer came.
The pressure only grew heavier.
At first, he dismissed it almost immediately. Obviously, the transmigration process would feel strange.
He was crossing between worlds and forcibly taking over another body. Some discomfort was normal. Honestly, he had expected something more dramatic than this anyway.
Besides, the cosmic entity had already explained the second option clearly.
This wasn't reincarnation.
It was possession.
He wasn't being reborn naturally. He was overwriting someone.
The thought made him snort internally.
Honestly, he had prepared for this from the moment the second option appeared.
The instant he heard "specific world", he immediately started having questions in mind about the conditions. Could he choose the timeline? Could he enter during the protagonist's era? Could he avoid being born as some irrelevant nobody who would never even see the golden era of the continent, Astrara?
The entity's answers had arrived in his mind even before the questions formed completely, but they had been annoyingly vague, but he had still managed to secure the important parts. Broad conditions could be influenced, though exact outcomes were uncertain.
That had been more than enough for him.
Naturally, he chose the protagonist's generation. Someone talented enough to enter Astralis Grand Academy and remain close to the central cast.
There was no way he would waste this opportunity by ending up inside some useless background extra living halfway across the continent.
And now?
Now he was finally here.
The heaviness surrounding him intensified again.
This time, the transmigrator's thoughts paused completely.
The sensation no longer felt passive.
It felt… like something's watching.
A faint chill crawled through his consciousness for the very first time since his death. Slowly, carefully, he extended his awareness deeper into the surrounding darkness — and finally sensed it.
Another presence.
Another soul.
At first, he almost laughed.
'So, this is the host?'
Honestly, he had expected something more dramatic. Some desperate resistance. Some emotional screaming before the overwrite finalized completely.
But the soul beneath him felt strangely quiet.
It was calm and still.
The transmigrator relaxed slightly again.
'Poor bastard.'
The thought came naturally and cruelly.
To him, this person barely even registered as real anymore. Just another fictional character born inside a fantasy story for his entertainment. Someone whose only value now was becoming the vessel for someone superior.
But then—
His thoughts abruptly stopped.
The closer he drifted toward the host consciousness, the stranger the sensation became.
Something was wrong.
Completely wrong.
The host soul did not feel weak.
It did not feel unstable.
It did not feel like something waiting to disappear.
If anything…
…it felt impossibly steady.
An endless silence stretched between them.
And within that silence—
Golden light flickered.
The transmigrator froze.
At first, the radiance was faint. Barely noticeable against the endless darkness around them.
But slowly, impossibly, the light expanded.
Soft golden illumination spread soundlessly through the void like the first rays of dawn breaking across an endless ocean.
The pressure surrounding it became unbearable almost instantly.
It was neither violent nor chaotic.
It was something far worse.
It felt both sacred, and ancient.
The transmigrator stared in growing disbelief as the golden radiance expanded further and further around the soul beneath him.
The warmth he had sensed earlier now felt overwhelming, almost suffocating beneath the sheer scale of the presence hidden within it.
'What the fuck…?'
This wasn't supposed to happen.
The host was supposed to be some decent side character. Maybe slightly talented. Maybe mildly important. Someone useful enough to enter Astralis Grand Academy but insignificant enough to disappear without issue.
Not… this.
And yet the golden light continued spreading endlessly through the darkness around them, calm and silent in a way that terrified him far more than open hostility would have.
Then the transmigrator realized something that made genuine fear finally appear within him.
The soul beneath him wasn't resisting.
Not actively.
Not angrily.
It simply… refused to disappear.
Like reality itself rejecting his existence.
Panic exploded through him instantly.
'No.'
His consciousness pushed downward instinctively, trying to force the overwrite process manually. This body was supposed to belong to him now. This world was supposed to belong to him now.
The moment he forced himself deeper—
Agony detonated across his consciousness.
"AAAGH—!"
The scream tore through his mind soundlessly as the golden light surged upward like an endless tide.
The moment the contact fully occurred, entire pieces of his consciousness vanished instantly.
Not just damaged or wounded.
It was gone.
The transmigrator recoiled in absolute horror.
'WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING?!'
The golden radiance expanded again.
And suddenly—
He felt it. A memory disappeared.
His apartment room.
Gone.
Another.
His computer.
Gone.
Another.
The sound of his own voice.
Gone.
Pure panic consumed him instantly. He tried pulling away from the host soul, but there was nowhere to retreat. The deeper he drifted, the more completely the golden light surrounded him from every direction.
More memories vanished.
Anime marathons.
Late-night scrolling.
His own face.
His own name.
'NO!!!'
The transmigrator screamed internally as pieces of his identity were ripped away one after another. Meanwhile, foreign memories began surfacing in their place.
Warm sunlight pouring through enormous windows.
The scent of polished marble halls.
Power flowing naturally through a young body.
Noble and scholarly tutors.
Quiet frustration at one's own inadequacy.
The feeling of standing slightly above average… but never enough to truly matter.
Looking at all the hopeful faces surrounding him but scared that he will never be able to live up to them.
The name Nolan Starcrown surfaced naturally within his mind.
The transmigrator trembled violently.
Nolan's memories didn't belong to some flawless chosen genius.
They belonged to a boy who had spent his entire life lingering just outside true greatness. Talented enough to be acknowledged. Worthy enough to be noticed. Skilled enough to enter elite circles.
But never exceptional enough to stand at the center.
He was the kind to be used as a stepping stone.
He was a supporting figure in the novel, whose role was exactly that.
Exactly the kind of person the transmigrator had wanted to possess in the first place.
And yet—
The golden soul continued devouring him effortlessly.
Not through rage.
Not through hatred.
But rather instinctively and naturally.
Like an organism rejecting an intruder.
The transmigrator panicked harder, desperately forcing his consciousness deeper in one final attempt to seize control.
'I'M SUPPOSED TO BE THE PROTAGONIST!'
'IT SHOULD BE ME!'
The golden light answered him.
Endless, silent, and absolute.
And then—
Something within that radiance awakened.
The transmigrator froze in absolute horror.
Because for the very first time…
…the soul beneath him became aware of him.
The pressure multiplying around him instantly became unbearable. The golden light no longer felt passive.
Now it felt hungry.
"No—WAIT—!"
It was too late.
The endless radiance swallowed him completely.
Memories shattered.
Thoughts dissolved.
Identity collapsed.
And his final realization came only moments before the end.
He was never the one taking over.
He was the one being devoured.
The golden radiance swallowed the final remnants of the transmigrator's collapsing consciousness whole, and then, for a brief moment that felt impossibly distant and endlessly long at the same time, everything became quiet.
The suffocating pressure that had consumed the endless darkness faded gradually, replaced instead by sensations so unfamiliar after the abstract chaos of the void that they almost felt unreal.
Warmth spread slowly through the body first, deep and natural, the kind of warmth that could only belong to living flesh wrapped beneath heavy blankets.
Then came weight — the undeniable heaviness of a physical form resting against soft bedding after what felt like an eternity without substance or shape.
A heartbeat echoed faintly somewhere within his chest.
Slow and steady.
The distant crackling glow of mana lamps illuminated the darkness beyond closed eyelids in dim amber light, while the muted sound of rain tapping softly against tall glass windows drifted quietly through the room.
The air itself carried a faint scent of expensive fabric, polished wood, and lingering traces of rain-soaked stone from somewhere outside.
And then, slowly, a pair of glowing golden eyes opened within the darkness.