Chapter 1: Birth
"I transmigrated into a novel… but my character does not even exist in it?"
That was Hodell's current conclusion.
To explain why, the story had to start half an hour earlier.
…
"Hey, have you ever seen a Spirit Fox before?"
"Oh my God, of course I have. I swear on my grandfather's wig, they're the most beautiful race I've ever seen. Every feature looks like it was carved by a god's own hand. If I could just touch one…"
"Touch one? I already have. The moment your hand lands on that fluffy tail, it curls up all tight and looks at you with those nervous little eyes. Its whole body starts trembling…"
Who's talking?
Hodell's eyes snapped open.
The first thing he saw was a pale blue world.
The plain white ceiling of his room was gone. In its place stood a curved shell of metal and transparent glass. Thick, pale blue gel surrounded him on all sides, suspending him upright inside what looked disturbingly like a hibernation pod. Cold seeped into his skin and bones, so deep it felt as if his blood had been soaked in ice.
His hand moved instinctively and tapped against the glass.
The two guards standing nearby froze.
Their expressions changed so quickly that it was almost funny. Shock, disbelief, fear. They looked as if a corpse had suddenly sat up and asked for directions.
Hodell's headache pounded harder.
"Wasn't I supposed to take the college entrance exam tomorrow?" he muttered, voice hoarse and weak. "I treated myself to braised pork last night, went to bed, and now I wake up in… what the hell is this place?"
His thoughts were in chaos, like someone had put his brain into a blender and forgotten to turn it off. His last clear memory was lying in bed, full and sleepy.
And for some reason, there had been a faint smell of rotten eggs.
"Guard! Get a guard, quick!"
One of the men shouted so loudly his voice cracked. He stumbled over his own feet in his rush to flee. The other did not even bother mocking him. He spun around and bolted too, as if staying one second longer would cost him his life.
Hodell stared after them in stunned silence.
Even stranger, although the language they had shouted in was completely foreign, he understood every word perfectly.
That realization sent a chill through him colder than the gel.
He slapped the glass again, harder this time. Footsteps rang out from outside, hurried and numerous, rapidly closing in.
Run.
The thought came instantly.
Unfortunately, his body and reality were not cooperating.
The transparent wall of the pod was absurdly sturdy. No matter how he pushed, it did not budge. The strange gel around him dragged at every movement and robbed him of what little strength he had.
Forced to stop struggling, Hodell could only grit his teeth and observe his surroundings through the glass.
Dark metal walls enclosed the chamber. The floor was engraved with an enormous crimson magic circuit that pulsed faintly like glowing blood vessels, every branching line connected to hibernation pods arranged around the room. At the very center stood a metallic core structure receiving all of those converging lines.
The entire place looked less like a laboratory and more like some blasphemous altar from a cult that worshipped unspeakable horrors.
Why does this thing look more and more like an evil god sacrifice site?
His imagination immediately betrayed him.
He could already picture himself being dragged out under a blood moon, thrown onto a mound of bones, and offered up to some ancient monstrosity as a midnight snack. If he was lucky, death would be instant. If he was unlucky…
His scalp went numb.
Just as Hodell was mentally preparing a eulogy for himself, a man in his thirties rushed into the room.
He wore a dark high collared robe, his features sharp and severe, his presence the kind that made other people instinctively lower their heads. The moment he entered, the atmosphere changed.
Then he stopped.
Inside the pod, Hodell stopped too.
The two stared at each other through the glass.
Silence fell.
A moment later, the robed man turned toward the doorway and roared, "He has not even left the pod yet. Why were you screaming like the sky was falling?"
The two guards from before crept back in, looking like they would rather be anywhere else.
"Lord Cayris," one of them said in a low voice, glancing up nervously, "this one was dead when he was brought here."
Cayris's eyes turned cold.
"Do you think I need you to tell me that?"
The guard's neck shrank visibly. He lowered his head and did not dare make another sound.
Around them, several people in white lab coats had also gathered, whispering as they looked toward Hodell.
To be fair, the guards were not entirely at fault.
Most of the experimental subjects sent here were corpses that still retained research value. For someone guarding a morgue, seeing one of the bodies suddenly open its eyes and knock on the glass was the sort of event that could cut ten years off a man's life.
And from the way the others reacted, accidents with experimental subjects clearly were not rare.
Cayris ignored the trembling guard and turned toward the researchers.
"What do you think?"
One of the lab coated figures stepped forward immediately.
"Lord Cayris, I recommend immediate dissection. A fresh dissection will preserve the most accurate data regarding the cause of suspended death and the mutation process."
Several others frowned at once.
Dissection?!
Hodell nearly choked on the gel in sheer disbelief.
So he was not an evil god sacrifice after all.
He was a lab rat.
Wonderful.
His mind was still muddled, but that sentence alone was enough to make his soul leave his body halfway.
Other people transmigrate and start by picking up cheats from garbage heaps, unlocking god tier talents, or getting some warm family reunion and a golden finger on the side. Even the ones who die and come back at least get a beautiful guardian spirit or a tragic but loving background.
And him?
Transmigrated at the beginning, straight into a laboratory, waiting to be sliced open like an anatomy class specimen.
Could this opener be any more cursed?
"Dissection is the most foolish and wasteful option."
Another researcher stepped forward sharply, glaring at the first as if resisting the urge to strangle him.
"It would destroy a unique specimen. Lord Cayris, I suggest drawing blood first."
Cayris lifted a hand.
The hibernation pod opened with a soft mechanical hiss.
To Hodell's surprise, the pale gel did not spill onto the floor. It remained suspended inside the pod as though restrained by some invisible force. He stumbled forward and stepped out into the air.
Cold hit him all at once.
Then he looked down.
And froze.
He was naked.
Completely, humiliatingly naked.
And that was only the start of the problem.
On top of his head were a pair of ears that absolutely had not belonged there before. Behind him swayed a large snow white tail, thick and soft looking, brushing lightly against the backs of his legs.
For two full minutes, an avalanche of information crashed through his head.
Then, in the most immediate and practical sense, embarrassment won.
Being stared at in silence by a room full of grown men after waking up naked with animal parts was not an experience he had ever wanted to collect.
He forced himself to speak.
"Who are you people?"
His voice came out hoarse and strained.
Cayris raised a brow.
"Amnesia?"
"The original cause of death was gene chain collapse," one of the researchers said, narrowing his eyes as he examined Hodell. "That can produce widespread cell necrosis and abnormal regenerative hyperplasia. Memory loss is not unusual."
Cayris looked away with visible impatience and flicked his gaze toward the guards.
"Why are you still standing there?"
"Yes, sir."
The same two expressionless guards stepped forward, seized Hodell by the arms from both sides, and began escorting him out.
Hodell glanced once at the crowd, once at the ominous crimson array on the floor, and very wisely abandoned any thoughts of resisting.
…
To speak plainly, Hodell's original life had not been a happy one.
He was an orphan.
That simple fact had cut him away from the lives of the people around him from the very beginning. When classmates chatted about family trips, noisy reunions, and holiday dinners, he never had anything to add. Their world and his world had always felt like parallel lines.
At night, when the world was quiet and nobody could see him, exhaustion would drag at his body, yet sleep never truly came. The physical discomfort was one thing. The loneliness was worse.
Because once the lights were off and the silence settled in, thoughts had room to grow.
And every time, no matter how far they wandered, they returned to the same question.
Why me?
Why was he the one left outside?
Why was he the one who had to live like this?
On those nights, the pillow beneath his face always ended up damp, and when morning came, he would wipe everything away and greet another day he did not particularly want.
Then, in the middle of the most confused and painful chapter of his life…
He transmigrated.
…
Hodell was taken back into the laboratory for further testing.
At this point, he had already confirmed one terrifying fact.
This world had magic.
A drop of blood was drawn from him. Then some kind of spell swept over his body from head to toe like a scanner made of light. It was efficient, silent, and unnervingly precise.
Before long, the report came back.
Cayris took the sheet of data from the researcher. His brows drew together slightly.
"No abnormalities in the blood?"
"Yes," the researcher replied. "And there are no obvious abnormalities in the body's current state either. We may proceed to motor response testing."
Cayris shook his head.
"No need. He requires an observation period first. No stimulating procedures during that time. Has Dr. Moore been informed?"
"Yes."
"Then arrange accommodations. You know the protocol. Do not bother me with every trivial detail."
Once again, the same two guards escorted him away.
Hodell stayed silent the whole time.
Every corridor, every passing figure, every flicker of strange light on the walls reminded him that he was completely out of his depth. This place was unfamiliar in every possible way. The architecture was foreign. The clothing was foreign. The power system was foreign.
And the only thing keeping him from panicking was the simple fact that panic would solve absolutely nothing.
Eventually, they brought him to a room.
Compared to the cold severity of the laboratory, this place felt almost friendly.
There was a bed, a quilt, and a rough wool blanket. Wooden boxes and shelves held books stacked in neat piles. A lamp burned quietly in the corner, its oil mixed with some kind of spice that gave the air a faint, pleasant fragrance.
The guards left after pushing him inside.
The door closed behind them.
It looked like they intended for him to rest.
Hodell slowly scanned the room.
There were no obvious surveillance devices, but he was not naive enough to assume that meant he was unobserved. If he were in their position, he would monitor the "dead" subject that had come back to life too.
Then his gaze settled on the books.
A person who had lost their memory would naturally try to understand the world around them through reading. Leaving books here was either a convenience or a test.
Probably both.
Hodell walked over and read the titles.
[Basic Elemental Magic: From Fundamentals to Mastery]
[Perception Extension: Telekinesis]
[Pipijia's Hypothesis]
[On the Genetics of Humans and Snakes]
[Jerry's Foundational Theory of Superpowers]
There were quite a few.
Magic was probably too much for him to digest right now. He needed something broader, something that would help him sketch out the rules of this world.
Superpowers, then.
He took down [Jerry's Foundational Theory of Superpowers] and sat on the bed, flipping it open.
To his surprise, it was not a simple introduction at all. The book was full of genuine theory, dense paragraphs, diagrams, classifications, and jargon heavy explanations. It was dry enough to kill a man's spirit in three pages.
Still, compared to the soul crushing exam prep from his former life, this was manageable.
So Hodell read patiently.
And then, without warning, a line of translucent blue text appeared before his eyes.
[You have completed one session of self study on basic superpower knowledge. Due to your Intelligence, learning progress for [Gene Expression Theory] increased by 2.0%]
Hodell's eyes widened.
A system?!
A semi transparent blue interface unfolded across his vision with a crisp flash. It carried a sleek, futuristic feel and yet did not obstruct his sight at all.
He held his breath and stared.
[Name: Hodell]
[Race: Carbon Based Human]
[Template: NPC [Countdown to Version 1.0 Open Beta: 358 days 11 hours 03 minutes]]
[Total Level: 1]
[Experience: 0]
[Subclass: Slave Lv.1 [0/50]]
[Main Class: None]
[Personal Attributes: Strength 2 Agility 4 Endurance 3 Intelligence 3 Mystery 4 Charm 7 Luck 6]
[Free Attribute Points: 0]
[Energy: 0 [Lv.0]]
[Energy Rank: 3 to 4]
[Grade: F [Mortal]]
[If someone says your combat power is below five, they have probably overestimated you]
[Health: 33/33]
[Stamina: 35/35]
[Talents: None]
[Skills: None]
[Potential Points: 0]
[Class Knowledge Tree: Locked]
[Legendary Points: 0]
[Equipment: 0]
[Human Fox Hybrid: Charm toward humans +50%, Charm toward foxes 50%]
[Unknown Gene: The collapsed gene chain was interfered with and repaired by unknown factors, resulting in unknown changes compared to the original experimental data]
Hodell stared blankly at the screen for several long seconds.
Then his excitement cooled.
Not a system.
An interface.
An NPC template.
A countdown to Version 1.0 open beta.
His pupils contracted.
Wait.
Wait a second.
Version 1.0.
NPC template.
Gene chains. Superpowers. Classes.
This world was not merely familiar.
It was the world of [The Legendary Mechanic].
His breathing went still.
And then a single, absurd thought surfaced once more in his mind, clearer than ever before.
"I transmigrated into a novel… but my character does not even exist in it?"