The rain had lessened to a soft drizzle, leaving Brighthollow's cobblestone streets slick and shining. Astrea moved cautiously, his steps heavy, muscles still sore from the boy's previous injuries. Every turn and alleyway was guided by the merged memories of the boy whose body he now inhabited—a life of theft and cunning etched into every landmark.
He limped slightly, but pressed on, knowing the hideout—the abandoned cellar beneath the ruined merchant house was close.
From across the street, a familiar voice rang out.
"Astrea! Wait!"
Michaela burst through the drizzle, a small basket clutched to her chest, her braid bouncing as she hurried toward him. Her eyes widened as she noticed the slight limp and the bruises marring his face.
"You're hurt!" she exclaimed. "I brought something for you some food from the herbs I sold in the back mountain. It's not much, but it'll keep you going."
Astrea accepted the basket, nodding faintly. "Thanks," he said, voice steady despite the ache in his body.
Her gaze softened, then hardened with concern. "Astrea… you can't keep doing this. Being a thief, getting hurt, running like this, it's not safe. You could get killed."
Astrea stopped walking for a moment, meeting her gaze. For a long second, he said nothing. In the past, the boy would have scoffed, laughed off her advice, and disappeared into the shadows. But this time… something was different.
"I'll stop," he said quietly, his words firm and calm. "I'll find a safer way to survive."
Michaela froze, her mouth slightly open in surprise. "You… you mean it? You're not joking?"
Astrea nodded. "I'm serious. I've… seen enough of that life. I can do better."
For a moment, Michaela simply stared at him, caught off guard. The boy she had grown up with—the clever, reckless thief—would never have agreed without hesitation, never so easily accepted her advice. Now, this new Astrea, with the merged soul of someone else, seemed… different. Mature. Calculated. Determined.
She let out a soft laugh, partly in disbelief and partly in relief. "I… I didn't think I'd ever hear you say that. But… thank you, Astrea. Really."
He allowed himself a small smile, more for her than for himself. "I'll need your help to get started," he admitted, glancing toward the cellar entrance. "I don't know much about honest work yet, but I can learn."
Michaela's expression softened completely. "Then we'll figure it out together. I know you can. But… I have to go help my family. They're waiting for me to prepare the herbs for today's sale."
Astrea nodded, understanding. "Go ahead. I'll be fine."
She hesitated for a moment, then gave him a reassuring smile. "Stay safe, Astrea. No more risky business, okay?"
"I promise," he said.
With that, Michaela turned and hurried away, her braid swinging as she disappeared into the misty streets. The sound of her footsteps faded, leaving Astrea alone with his thoughts, his new body, and the heavy weight of the boy's memories guiding him toward the cellar.
Astrea pressed the loose stone marking the hidden door of the merchant house. The cellar creaked open, revealing the familiar stash stolen treasures, old provisions, and the faint scent of dust and mildew. He descended the stairs, placing the basket down, and allowed himself a rare moment of calm.
Then, suddenly…
A sharp, piercing sound tore through his skull.
[System initializing… welcome, user. Calibration in progress.]
The voice wasn't audible to the world; it came from inside him like a drill boring through bone, electricity firing through every nerve ending. Agony unlike anything he had ever experienced shot from his temples down to his toes. He staggered, clutching his head, teeth gritting against the pain.
"Ahhh—!!!" he screamed, but the sound barely carried beyond the stone walls. Outside, the drizzle continued softly; no one would hear him.
And then, amidst the torment, recognition struck. Memories from Earth novels he had read about systems and transmigration flashed vividly in his mind.
It… it's like the novels… a system… inside me…
The system's voice repeated, now calmer:
[Calibration complete.
Welcome to the Arcadia System.
Core functions online.
User: Astrea Starborne.]
Astrea staggered, leaning against the wall. Shock and awe mingled in his chest. The pain remained, but beneath it was a pulse of possibility, a sense that this system could elevate him beyond survival beyond mere life as a thief.
Numbers, metrics, hidden abilities, and potential paths flooded his mind. Knight, Mage, Assassin… even rarer abilities awaited discovery. A thread of energy pulsed through him, tethered to the very world itself.
"This… this is real," he whispered, voice trembling. "Exactly like the novels…"
A sense of determination surged through him. The boy who had been a reckless thief was gone. Reborn, elevated, and chosen, Astrea knew this: he would master this system. He would rise.
He rose slowly to his feet, every step careful, feeling the residual pain as a reminder of his survival. The basket of herbs at his side was a small comfort, a reminder of the life he wanted to build. But the system this power was a bridge to something far greater.
"I'll survive this…" he muttered. "I'll master this power. And I'll see it through. No matter what it takes."
Somewhere deep in his mind, the faint hum of the system continued, syncing with his heartbeat. He did not yet know the full extent of what awaited him—but one thing was certain. Astoria would never be the same, and neither would he.