I never thought my life would turn into something worth telling. I was just another high‑school student—eighteen, average, quiet, drifting through classes with a steady ninety on my report card and a vague dream of "dominating the economy someday."
Greed? Maybe. Or maybe I just wanted enough stability to buy what I liked: a computer, a laptop, an iPad, a phone, and a soft bed to collapse into. That felt like the limit of life. That felt… enough.
Most of my time was spent playing Vampire Decay, an unforgiving RPG where death wasn't a setback—it was the entire point. You didn't farm, you didn't build anything, you barely survived. The world was dark, rotten, a place where being alive was no more valuable than being a stray animal.
Your character—an immortal vampire—died over and over. Mauled. Poisoned. Robbed. Crushed. Crucified. Torn apart by monsters. You always came back, only to suffer again. And between all those gruesome ends, you hunted cults, homunculi, werewolves, demons, witches, even other vampires like yourself.
Every death rewarded you with power. Every corpse offered loot—rubies, relics, grim almanacs filled with destruction. It was a world where glory came stained in blood.
I played it to distract myself from something heavier. A quiet fear that my real life would fall apart. That I'd fail my goals. That the future would leave me alone and small.
That night, crossing the road with the game glowing on my phone screen, those fears didn't matter anymore.
A car came too fast.
Too close.
And the driver didn't stop.
Didnt even looked....
I remember dropping the phone. I remember the taste of iron creeping up my throat. Sweat clung to my skin as the first real understanding of death wrapped around me—cold, sharp, merciless. My body screamed. Breath came in broken shreds.
Then nothing.
Then less than nothing.
My brain choked inside my skull, my organs ruptured, and my heart shut down. My body jerked like it still wanted to fight for life, but none of it reached me.
People say death is instant.
It isn't.
There's a moment where you can't feel your own existence slipping, but you know it is. Not thinking. Not dreaming. Just sinking.
Because even if your still not conscious... Your brain cells are still alive as they slowly decay and desintegrate along of whats alive in you.
Then—white.
A blank space, endless and silent. And standing in the center was a figure, almost human, almost not. Black yes and a pale marble of white clay of skin, then like a pale aura that moved like smoke. He looked at me as if he had been waiting.
"Hello," he said softly. "You might be surprised… but I'm transporting you to another world. Is there anything you want?"
My mind should have panicked, but instead it felt strangely empty. Maybe I already understood. Maybe part of me had known for a long time something like this would happen.
I was feeling empty... To how i didnt did every i can in my past life, regret.
"…Why are you doing this?" I asked.
He tilted his head, confused, like the question itself was strange.
"It's my job," he answered.
"Why me?"
"I chose you."
So it wasn't fate. It wasn't luck. It was just… a choice someone made.
I swallowed. "Then… send me somewhere I can control my own life. Somewhere I'm not just drifting."
He glanced through my memories—my childhood, my fears, the game I had been playing only moments before. His eyes softened.
"Alright."
He flicked his finger.
The world shattered into light.
And when I woke up, I was no longer dying on the pavement—I was in the body of a young man, alive, breathing, trembling. A smile rose to my lips before I could stop it.
The first scream tore out of my new chest—
"I've transmigrated!"
A new world waited.
A new story.
And this time, I was the main character.
Adam blinked at the sight in front of him.
A boy—brown-haired, dirt-stained, and lying flat on the ground—was grinning like a lunatic, arms spread wide as if greeting the sky.
"Hey…" Adam muttered.
The boy froze.
"Wait—transmigrated? Did he just say that?" Adam whispered to himself.
The boy's ears turned red, clearly embarrassed that someone overheard—but he didn't bother hiding the smile stretching across his face.
Adam crossed his arms. "So who are you? A quest giver or something?"
The boy sat up. "What? No—"
Adam stared.
Heck no… who is this guy? He's weird.
Then a thought clicked in the back of his mind—something he remembered reading years ago. A trope that exploded in 2018. What was it called?
Right. Isekai.
Before he could figure out if this was a joke or a dream, a horn split the air.
BWOOM.
Rehan's voice echoed in Adam's head. (This is bad…)
"Bad? What—"
The sky answered him. Fireballs rained down, slamming into the rooftops. Houses burst into flame one by one, collapsing under the weight of heat and rubble. Screams spread across the town like a wave.
The brown-haired boy's smile broke instantly. Fear swallowed whatever excitement he had.
Adam watched a memory rise uninvited into the boy's expression—a recognition, like he'd seen this all before.
"So this is the beginning scene…" the boy whispered, trembling. "Where the Witch destroys the town. This is… where the main character becomes the last survivor… and gets turned into a vampire."
Adam squinted at him.
"Into what now?"
There wasn't time for an answer.
They sprinted toward the outskirts, where the wooden defenses stood—a crude palisade of sharpened stakes. Smoke drifted between the gaps, carrying the sound of battle.
Black-armored figures tore through the townsfolk. Their swords, forged of some metallic darkness, dragged trails of black miasma. Their helmets were shaped like exposed skulls, hollow eyes glowing faintly.
They cut people down like they were nothing.
Adam felt something twist in his chest—anger, hot and sudden.
People were dying. Families. Strangers. Anyone unlucky enough to stand in the way.
Beside him, the transmigrated boy stumbled back, clutching his arms, shaking.
He'd died once already. And the terror of dying again hit him harder than anything...
To be continued