He opened his eyes slowly, blinking several times to adjust his vision to the dim light filtering through the cracks in the wooden walls.
He was lying on a pile of dry and rough straw that smelled strongly of damp earth, fermented grass, and a faint animal touch, as if he were in an improvised bed in the middle of a forgotten stable.
His body felt strange, light and alien, as if it didn't fully belong to him, with a vitality that contrasted with the mental exhaustion that still overwhelmed him.
In front of him, floating in the air like a holographic projection, a translucent bluish window appeared with bright white runes, almost luminous, that looked like ancient runes engraved in the void.
[Consciousness Spell]
[Status Window]
Name: Darius Maximoud
Race: Human
Rank: G-
Strength: G-
Agility: G-
Resistance: G-
Intelligence: G-
Aura Control: G-
Aura Potential: G-
Talent Grade: G-
Profession: [Elemental Mage – Level 1]
He was completely bewildered, his mind turned into absolute chaos of unanswered questions. What was this thing? A hallucination caused by pain? A vivid dream that refused to dissipate?
He blinked several more times, hoping the window would disappear like a mirage, but it remained there, motionless and immutable, defying his understanding of reality.
"Darius Maximoud? Who the hell is that?" he murmured, confused, his voice hoarse.
He sat up slowly, sitting on the straw that creaked under his weight like trampled dry leaves. The sound echoed in the silence of the place, amplifying his confusion.
He looked around with growing perplexity, absorbing every strange detail that surrounded him. Everything seemed… different, as if he had been transported to a world taken from a medieval painting with touches of inexplicable fantasy.
"What is this place? How did I get here?" he asked the air, his voice trembling with uncertainty.
Around him, as his sight gradually cleared, a kind of large and rustic farm or barn was revealed, full of piles of yellowish straw scattered like an irregular sea, set up as a stable for cows.
He observed the place with meticulous attention: the walls and structures were built with robust and well-preserved wood, thick beams supporting a high and sloped roof, designed to withstand storms and the passage of time.
There were no conventional electric lights; instead, floating bulbs emitted a soft magnetic light, dancing slightly in the air with technologically advanced functions.
Further on, in sections divided by simple but functional wooden gates, several cows rested placidly, chewing with indifference, their large dark eyes reflecting the ethereal glow of the lights.
Buckets of water, some half full with crystal-clear water, rested on the compacted dirt floor, dotted here and there with stains of dry mud.
Seeing all this, he stood up completely, shaking off the straw stuck to his clothes with clumsy movements.
"This is a farm. Why am I in a farm? What is this?!" he exclaimed, raising his voice in frustration.
He stood up from the straw with a fluid movement that surprised even himself, stretching his body as if he had woken up after a long restorative nap.
However, he felt different in every aspect: his muscles responded with an unknown elasticity, his breathing was deeper, and his perception of the environment seemed sharpened, as if every sense was amplified.
When he touched himself, examining himself with trembling hands, he noticed he was not wearing his gray office suit, the one he remembered wearing that fateful morning.
Just a moment ago—or at least that was how it seemed—he had been run over by the subway in a crowded station, a brutal impact that should have killed him instantly.
It was impossible that he was still alive, right? The memory of the screech of the train, the unexpected push, the emptiness under his feet… all of that should have ended him.
"How is this possible? I'm still alive," he whispered, incredulous.
Quickly, ignoring the holographic window that still floated before his eyes like a persistent reminder, he decided to check something more tangible.
He headed to a nearby bucket of water, one of those resting in front of the cow sections, with hesitant but determined steps.
When he got close, he leaned over the still water, which acted as an improvised mirror.
The reflection gradually cleared in the following seconds, revealing not his familiar face, but one completely alien:
A young boy with jet-black hair falling in messy strands over a smooth forehead, a small and youthful face with defined but soft features, like those of a teenager in full transition to adulthood, and shining silver eyes, resembling the moon on a clear night, staring back at him with supernatural and unsettling intensity.
"WHO THE HELL IS THAT?!" he shouted, terrified.
Terrified by the vision, he knocked over the bucket with an impulsive slap.
The water spilled over the straw and dirt in an irregular puddle, splashing his boots and soaking the ground.
"Wait… that's not me. I have the appearance of a teenager," he stammered, stepping back.
Rising from the ground and snapping out of his initial trance at the same moment, he calmed down a bit, although he still felt strange and disoriented. Calm in appearance.
He stood up again and examined his body in more detail. He noticed he was wearing farm attire: fine and smooth fabric, simply soft to the touch, with loose pants and a simple shirt that smelled of fresh lavender and earth.
Large boots covered his feet, protecting them from the mud, semi-dirty with dried mud stains that told stories of recent labor.
However, his attire mattered little to him at that moment; it was clear that what interested him most was why that strange window identified him as Darius and why he had this youthful and unrecognizable appearance.
"This is too confusing. If I died run over by a train, why do I look like a teenager?" he said in a low voice, trying to process it.
He inhaled deeply, filling his lungs with the air laden with the barn, and exhaled slowly, trying to maintain absolute calm.
With the next thought, refreshing his fragmented memory a little, he decided to think logically and methodically.
"My name is not Darius Maximoud. It's clear that that name belongs to this body," he told himself firmly.
"Let's see… my real name is…" he tried, but the words got stuck.
For some inexplicable reason, he couldn't pronounce it.
The words got stuck in his throat, as if an invisible barrier blocked his voice.
He tried to force the first letter, but nothing came out.
"How? My name is… my name…" he repeated, frustrated.
Seconds later, processing what had happened, he realized that not only could he not pronounce it, but he didn't remember it at all.
It was as if his past identity had been erased from his mind.
"Damn! I can't remember my damn name!" he shouted, losing his composure.
"Damn, damn, damn! What the hell is going on?" he repeated, becoming more and more agitated.
Of course, the simple fact that someone knew his name was because he had an identity; that's why they were called names.
Now, not only was he in someone else's body, but he also didn't remember anything about himself: his name, his past identity, not even what he originally looked like. It was a terrifying void.
But the real question tormented him:
What was his identity if he had no name?
Who exactly was he, if he wasn't Darius?
"If I have no name… then who am I?" he murmured, his voice broken by fear.
His heart beat strongly in that unknown chest, an accelerated pulse that amplified his confusion and the residual headache that still throbbed in his temples.
Coming out of the panic a little, he forced himself to rationalize.
"I have to calm down. If I keep getting agitated, I won't get anywhere," he told himself, breathing deeply.
"Very well, let's go step by step. Now I'm in this body: Darius Maximoud," he added, trying to organize himself.
Trying to remember a little more of what had happened, he continued.
"The last thing I remember… I was at the subway station. I was about to leave," he recalled out loud.
Managing to evoke fragmented memories, he saw flashes: he didn't quite manage to turn around fully. A man dressed in black pushed him hard, sending him into the void.
"However, I didn't quite manage to turn around. A man in black pushed me and I…" he murmured, reliving the moment.
Remembering everything in a fragmented way: the deafening sound of the approaching subway while he fell through the air, the metallic and rusty smell of blood on the tracks, and in the end, only a momentary pain that enveloped him like a cold wave.
The last thing he saw was the blurry figure of the man in black, and at that moment, everything turned black, an infinite abyss until he woke up here.
Returning to his current reality, angry, he murmured.
"That damn bastard… because of him I'm here. He pushed me onto the subway tracks, now I…" he growled through his teeth.
Making a necessary pause, he felt a realization that he recognized from his previous life, not because it was scientifically proven, but because it was what he had read so many times in fiction.
"Did I… I… just transmigrate into this body?" he whispered, his eyes wide open.
Yes, it was the only way to explain it. Upon reflecting a little after everything, it was obvious: he had just transmigrated, which meant that he had indeed died after all.
But that this happened to him was the most unreal thing he had ever experienced.
In his current situation, he no longer knew what was real and what wasn't, since transmigration was only seen in fiction.
In his case, the web novels and webtoons he read in his previous life often dealt with transmigration to fantasy worlds.
But he never imagined it would happen to him, especially in such a sudden way. This went beyond his understanding; honestly, he never expected it to happen to him, but it no longer mattered.
Anyway, almost no one knows what comes after death, depending on religion, philosophy, or science. That didn't matter, because his case now was completely different from those human assumptions.
While he was calm, looking around and feeling a growing discomfort from the smell of straw and animals.
"It would be better if I got out of this place. I don't feel very comfortable with this environment," he said, determined.
Quickly, he headed to the open door of the barn exit, walking hurriedly while seeing the exterior light reflecting closer and closer, the warmth of the sun illuminating his silver eyes.
"Finally, I'll see the light," he sighed in relief.
While he was about to exit, walking with expectation.
"Let's see what's out there…" he murmured, excited.
Suddenly, a soft and gelatinous collision interrupted his advance.
His face impacted against something soft and large, like a pair of elastic balls. The impact sent him backward, falling seated on the straw and dirt, stunned.
"But what the hell…!" he exclaimed, rubbing his face.
A female voice, soft but loaded with irritation, sounded in front of him.
"Damn lazy failure. Can't you even see where you're walking, or did you do it on purpose?" she snapped with disdain.
"Did you finish the work?" she continued asking.
His eyes, clearing, focused on the source: a beautiful girl, taller than him, with long silver hair falling in smooth strands to her shoulders, framing a delicate face.
She wore farm attire with pieces of leaves and mud, with her enormous breasts, like watermelons, standing out, explaining the gelatinous feeling he had felt before. Her blue eyes looked at him with disdain.
"And who are you?" he asked, still stunned.
He looked at her captivated by her beauty and those prominent breasts.
"How beautiful…" he murmured dazed, without thinking.
The girl, impulsive and angry, snapped her fingers in front of his face.
"Hey! I'm talking to you, idiot. Did you go deaf?" she shouted, furious.
"Besides being the biggest lazy in the family, are you a shameless person who mocks his sister? Are you making fun of me?" she added with contempt.
*What the hell is wrong with this girl? I only said she was pretty, I wasn't mocking her.*
Coming out of his trance, he stood up quickly, aware of the misunderstanding.
"No… it's not that. It's just that…" he stammered, nervous.
She sighed heavily.
"It doesn't matter anymore. At least, did you finish the work Mom assigned you?" she asked, resigned.
"What do you mean by work?" he responded, confused.
She looked around, seeing the disordered straw.
"Darius, why is the straw still just as disordered?" she inquired with an accusatory tone.
"I don't know what you mean. I just woke up," he explained.
"You woke up? Damn slacker! Are you telling me you didn't do anything but sleep all this time?" she shouted, perplexed and angry.
Since he was uninformed about the situation, he said.
"I'm really sorry," he apologized sincerely.
She sighed again.
"Leave it. With you it's always the same. I never expected you to do anything anyway," she said with exhaustion.
*Why do I feel like this Darius isn't as productive as he seems?!*
"Whatever, I came to look for you. Mom wants to see you about your academy matters," she added.
Standing up, he asked.
"Academy? What academy?" he inquired, disoriented.
"Are you serious? Don't you remember the academy where you took the admission exam?" she asked, incredulous.
"You're so negligent that you don't even know your academic duties. You're a total disaster," she sentenced with frustration.
*It's not my fault I don't know anything about this body's life! Maybe it's because I'm a transmigrator, and not your good-for-nothing lazy brother!*
Darius smiled uncomfortably, not knowing how to react.
She had claimed to be his sister, confirming a peculiar relationship in the family.
With narrowed eyes, he asked.
"By the way, dear sister… could you tell me which academy I applied to?" he asked carefully.
Holding back her anger.
"The academy you will enter is Zenith Block Academy. That's all. Are you happy now?" she responded dryly.
Shock invaded him. Zenith Block Academy… the one he had added to the script of the novel: [The Rise of the Heroine of Humanity]
"Zenith Block Academy? Does that exist…?" he repeated in a low voice, pale.
*That means… I transmigrated into my own novel? But how did this happen?*
The girl looked at him strangely.
"Do you feel okay, Darius? You're sweating too much," she asked, puzzled.
"Don't tell me you're nervous about the admission exam results." Looking at him, she murmured.
"Janet Maximoud?" he whispered to himself.
"Mmm, what? What do you need now that you're calling me?" she responded, arching an eyebrow.
His heart raced.
THUMP!
THUMP!
THUMP!
THUMP!
He had just transmigrated into the canceled novel he had worked on… but right into the territory of the Maximoud Family, the most dangerous criminal family on the human continent, owners of the most lethal mafia: The Golden Hand.
"Why am I with that family?" he murmured, terrified.