"No! You can't do this!"
"Please, spare these poor children!"
"Didn't you promise to let us leave? You butchers, you devils! Heaven will punish you all!"
Bang!
With a gunshot, the nun, driven to despair by betrayal, collapsed into a pool of blood.
"Enough with the whining! Did you really believe everything I said? Hahahaha! If I hadn't lied, how else would you have brought these brats right to our doorstep? You've saved us so much trouble! Hahahaha..."
"I'll tell you straight, our orders are to spare no one in this country. Except for your king, who fled with the royal family like a stray dog long ago, everyone left here—men, women, children, the elderly—all must die!"
A soldier beside him frowned. "Simon, you're saying too much."
"What's the harm? They're all dead soon anyway. Dead men tell no tales."
"Fire! Wipe them all out!"
As the soldiers grinned savagely, they raised their rifles, spitting out fiery death.
The last thing the fallen nun saw was the children being gunned down one by one.
Hearing their desperate, helpless cries, she wept two tears of bitter regret before sinking into eternal darkness.
"Forgive me..."
Even in her final moments, the nun never saw the compassionate light of salvation descend upon these wretched souls.
Only despair remained.
In September of Sea Circle Era 1506, Flevance in the North Blue was destroyed by a neighboring country during a war, and the "White City" was consumed by a massive fire.
Throughout the entire ordeal, neither the World Government nor the Marines intervened to provide aid.
The only known survivors at the time were the former Flevance Royal Family, who had contacted the World Government early on, renounced their nation, and thus managed to escape.
Yet, through the pitch-black clouds, a faint ray of sunlight seemed to pierce through the despair, offering a glimmer of hope.
Though the White City of Flevance had been destroyed, the aftermath continued to unfold.
For instance, the bodies that the great fire had failed to consume completely.
If these corpses weren't disposed of promptly, plague would become the first wave of vengeance unleashed by the White Undead.
Thus, body after body was transported and piled up at the border of Flevance, awaiting the arrival of fuel for mass incineration.
The mountain of corpses resembled nothing less than a hellish vision of human purgatory.
A single glance would likely haunt ordinary people with nightmares for three days straight.
Even the soldiers tasked with transporting the bodies rarely lingered, immediately retreating after each delivery to escape this death-laden, ominous place.
After all, what was the point of guarding a pile of corpses? Were they going to stand up and run away on their own?
Yet amidst the eerie silence, several bodies began to move in a disturbingly unnatural manner, sending chills down the spine.
Thump...
Huff... huff...
As the corpses above tumbled down, a blood-soaked, disheveled, and emaciated figure finally struggled to emerge from below, gasping for breath after nearly suffocating.
Then, a nauseating stench—a mix of blood, decay, and other indescribable horrors—flooded his nostrils.
"Gah... gah!"
He immediately began to vomit violently, especially after taking in his surroundings.
"So there really is a hell after death... and it's this terrifying!"
"No, this isn't hell... this is Flevance. My name is Gustavus... Abel!"
After vomiting until nothing remained, Abel finally finished integrating the memories of his two lives.
In his previous life, he had been a self-made, relatively successful young entrepreneur.
By the age of 30, with a little help from his in-laws, he had effortlessly amassed several small fortunes.
Determined to prove he wasn't just a kept man, he threw himself wholeheartedly into his company. One late night, after a grueling day, he crashed his car while driving home exhausted.
When he opened his eyes again, he found himself in this place—a hellish realm!
The body he had transmigrated into was equally unfortunate.
Gustavus Abel was his name, born in Flevance, a particularly beautiful and prosperous region in the North Blue.
He had grown up in a happy, well-off family. His parents were renowned merchants who controlled considerable wealth.
From childhood, he received an excellent education, possessed a cheerful and generous personality, and inherited his parents' exceptional genes, making him handsome, charismatic, and universally liked.
If that were all there was to it, he might have rejoiced at transmigrating into such a fortunate individual.
But as memories flooded back, terms like "White City," "Amber Lead Syndrome," "Pirate King," "World Government," and "Celestial Dragons" surfaced in his mind. Only then did he realize the terrifying world he had entered!
And the situation he found himself in was truly dire.
After all, even he had read the Big Three manga, including the renowned Big Three—who hadn't had a childhood? But as he gradually focused his energy on his career, he rarely read them anymore, only occasionally catching up on the plot during his breaks.
For instance, he'd heard about the Human-Human Fruit, Mythical Zoan type, Nika Form... which had been heavily criticized for ages.
"Truly the worst possible time and place to transmigrate," Abel thought with a bitter smile as he recalled his circumstances.
Living in Flevance, the so-called "White City," was no blessing. Nearly everyone there suffered from the incurable Amber Lead Syndrome, and by his generation, most would die in endless agony before reaching adulthood.
Glancing at the distinct white patches on his arm, Abel knew he was no exception. It seemed that being granted a second life had exhausted all his luck.
Worse still, if he had transmigrated even a few days earlier, he might have found a way to escape with his parents and slowly search for a cure.
But now it was too late. To conceal their secrets, the World Government had practically allowed Flevance to be completely destroyed in the war. His parents, like everyone else, had perished under blades and gunfire.
The deceived nuns and the innocent children who died under the gun...
Even a simple recollection of these memories made Abel clench his fists unconsciously.
After the memories merged, there was no longer a distinction between "you" and "me." Only one name remained: Gustavus Abel!
He felt everything as if it were his own.
Sooner or later, he would seek justice for his parents and for all those who perished in Flevance!
But this matter required careful planning. At his current stage, he simply lacked the ability and means to act.
"The immediate priority is to escape. Although I've finally gotten used to the stench here, if those soldiers find me, I'll probably have to transmigrate again... if I even get another chance."
Muttering to himself, Abel immediately tried to roll over and stand up, only to tumble off the corpse pile.
His condition was already poor. He hadn't eaten or drunk a drop of water in who knows how long, and the violent vomiting earlier had left him dizzy, weak, and utterly drained.
"Damn it!"
Leaning against a corpse, Abel struggled to sit up and catch his breath. Waves of intense hunger and weakness assaulted his mind.
In his current state, escaping unnoticed and crossing the border was a pipe dream.
He needed to regain at least some of his strength.
But the bad news was that there was no food or water here, and the longer he lingered, the greater the chance of encountering soldiers!
"Damn it! If I've already been through something as crazy as transmigration, shouldn't I at least get some kind of cheat or something?"
As soon as he finished speaking, a voice suddenly echoed in his mind.
[Wish Order System has been bound. Newcomer's gift package successfully issued. Please check it yourself, Host.]