Raj was a normal university student—unremarkable in appearance, routine in habit, and easy to overlook in a crowd. His life followed a predictable rhythm: lectures, assignments, late nights, and quiet walks home. Nothing about it suggested importance. Nothing hinted that he mattered beyond his own small circle.
Except in his mind.
Raj was a weeb. He loved web novels, anime, and stories of other worlds. He didn't consume them merely to escape reality, but because they offered something his own life lacked. Purpose. Direction. Stories where ordinary people were forced into extraordinary situations and had no choice but to grow.
They struggled.They failed.They endured.
And they continued.
He wanted that.
Not power.Not fame.
Meaning.
"If I were in their place," he often thought, "I wouldn't waste it."
That thought followed him everywhere.
On a late evening, while returning from university, Raj was lost in those familiar reflections when something pulled him back to reality. A small girl had stepped onto the road, frozen at the crossing after the traffic signal had already changed.
Raj's gaze snapped forward.
A truck was approaching.
Too fast.Too close.
For a fraction of a second, instinct screamed at him to stop. To hesitate. To think.
He didn't.
His body moved before his thoughts could interfere. He ran forward, grabbed the girl, and shoved her out of the road. She fell onto the pavement, shaken but unharmed.
Raj felt no relief.
There was no time for it.
The impact came immediately.
Pain engulfed him—absolute and crushing. Bones shattered. Organs failed. His body ceased to function, yet his consciousness lingered for one brief, merciless moment.
As darkness closed in, a single thought surfaced. Not fear. Not regret.
Will I be transmigrated?
Then he died.
Raj's soul entered the flow of reincarnation, carried forward without resistance. There was no sensation—only motion. But before the process could complete, the fabric of space fractured.
His soul was torn away.
When Raj opened his eyes again, confusion followed instantly.
He lay in a vast field of flowers—roses, daisies, sunflowers, and others he couldn't name. The air was still. The sky was clear and blue, the sun warm overhead. There was no pain. No weight. No fear.
He slowly sat up.
"…Am I in heaven?" he asked aloud.
"No," came a calm voice behind him. "You are not."
Raj stiffened and turned.
An old man stood a short distance away, dressed in a pristine black suit, his pompadour immaculate. He looked completely out of place—and entirely comfortable.
"…This is absurd," Raj muttered.
"That's quite rude," the man replied mildly. "You could at least pretend to be polite."
Raj inhaled sharply. "You heard that?"
"Not exactly," the man said. "But close enough."
"Who are you?" Raj asked, taking a cautious step back. "Where am I? Am I dead?"
"Yes."
The blunt answer caught him off guard.
"And if this isn't heaven," Raj continued, "then what is this place?"
"I am what you would call a higher existential being," the man replied. "To simplify matters, a god. This is my personal space—designed to resemble your world so your mind can endure it."
Raj let out a slow breath. "So this is real."
"Yes."
"…Then I'm being transmigrated?"
"Yes."
The confirmation settled heavily on him.
"Why?" Raj asked. "Why do this at all? And why me?"
"There is no special reason," the god replied. "You were chosen randomly."
"So I wasn't chosen at all," Raj said quietly.
"No."
Raj nodded once. "Then I suppose asking more is pointless."
"That would be correct."
"The world you will be sent to," the god continued, "is the Monarch's world—what you know as Solo Leveling."
Raj's eyes sharpened. "So those stories really exist."
"The multiverse contains infinite possibilities," the god said. "It would be stranger if they didn't."
Raj fell silent. The excitement he had imagined felt heavier now—more real, less forgiving.
The god raised a hand. "We will now determine your power."
A massive wheel appeared between them, divided into eight sections. Symbols and names glowed faintly across its surface. Raj recognized several immediately.
"…Those are powers," he said.
"Yes."
"Haki. Sage of Six Paths. Stormbreaker."
"Spin the wheel."
Raj hesitated, then placed his hand on it. He had imagined this moment countless times. The randomness unsettled him.
He pushed.
The wheel spun violently before slowing.
It stopped on black.
"Nameless Template," Raj read. "I don't recognize it."
"You will," the god replied.
"The world you're sending me to isn't safe," Raj said. "I'll need something powerful."
"You have what you were given."
"Can I spin again?"
"No."
Raj nodded. "Then that's it."
"Yes."
The god waved his hand.
The space around Raj collapsed.
When Raj regained consciousness, the first thing he noticed was the ceiling.
It wasn't familiar.
He sat up abruptly as memories flooded back.
"…Where is this place?"
The room was small and bare, furnished only with necessities. No decoration. No warmth.
He stood, then winced as pain surged through his head. After steadying himself, he scanned the room.
A different body.
The realization struck just as foreign memories poured in.
He dropped to his knees, clutching his head as two lives overlapped.
Then clarity.
His name was Frey Starlight. A European student living in South Korea. His parents had died in a gate accident. With no family left, he survived through part-time work while attending high school.
He stood and faced the cracked mirror.
Sharp features. Pale skin. White hair. Eyes dark and empty.
He sat on the bed.
Transmigration wasn't exhilarating.
It was heavy.
He had saved a child without hesitation. Responsibility had always guided him. Now he carried the weight of two lives—one ended, one inherited.
There was no going back.
After a long silence, he exhaled.
"…If I'm here," he said quietly, "then I survive."
"And in this world, that means becoming a hunter."
"System."
A black screen appeared.
Name: Frey StarlightRank: GStrength: G-Speed: GAgility: GAura: SSSTemplate: 0%Skills: LOCKEDTechniques: LOCKEDWeapons: LOCKED
No shop.
Mission: Slay a monsterReward: 0.25% Template Progress
"So little," Frey muttered.
Still, it was a start.
He stepped onto the balcony. The clock read 8:00 p.m. The moon hung silently overhead.
He wasn't Raj anymore.
But he wasn't fully Frey either.
Standing between two lives, he chose to move forward.