DING!
[ SYSTEM ACTIVATED! ]
[Welcome to the Transcending the World System, Earth host from Dimension No. 6357. I am a system from the Upper Realm, assigned to guide the host in becoming the strongest existence in this world.]
A faint voice echoed inside my head, forcibly dragging my consciousness back.
The once–noisy room instantly fell silent. The wind stopped blowing, and the massive wall clock in the hall froze, as if time itself had been halted.
I was certain I had already died.
Yet the moment my consciousness returned and I opened my eyes, I found myself somewhere else—kneeling in the center of a vast hall. Before me sat someone perched upon the highest seat, looking down at me with undisguised contempt.
I was kneeling, my head lowered, overwhelmed by a familiar feeling—being looked down upon by everyone else in the room.
"…Am I not dead?"
I glanced around. Nothing moved. Time truly had stopped.
The first thing I noticed was my hands. They were much smaller than before. I clenched and unclenched my fists several times, testing their strength.
"This is definitely not my body."
My attention shifted to a transparent projection window floating before me.
"You're the one who brought me here? What exactly is this?"
[I am the system that brought the host to the dimension known as Transcending the World. This is a mid-tier fantasy world dominated by magic and swordmasters, governed by a medieval-style kingdom system.]
"Then what gives you the right to drag me here? You know I was supposed to be dead—retired. You have no authority to bring my soul back."
[I apologize, host. This is a direct order from the Supreme Administrator. This world will be destroyed if the host does not prevent it :-( ]
The sad emoticon on the system window irritated me.
Only then did I realize I had been kneeling this entire time—it was exhausting. I shifted into a cross-legged sitting position.
Now this was more comfortable.
I looked back at the system window indifferently.
"I don't care whether this world collapses or is reduced to ruins. I'm already dead, and I refuse to live again just to be someone's slave. I've worked hard enough. Can't I retire in peace? You're being unreasonable."
[Then what does the host desire in order to cooperate? I am the highest-level system. No host has ever refused me before. You are the first :-( ]
"If you want me to carry out the administrator's mission, then give me full authority to handle everything in this world."
[But, host—]
"No 'buts.' I've already died once. Dying again doesn't scare me."
The system fell silent for a moment. My request was clearly excessive—but what choice did I have? Twenty years of living under others' control was enough. If I were given another life only to be shackled again, wouldn't that be the same pit all over?
I'd rather die—at least then, I'd be free.
[Very well, host. After consulting with the administrator, the system will not force the host to do anything against their will.]
"Good. So you can be reasonable. In that case, give me information about this world and my current identity."
[Understood. The system will now transfer the original owner's memories to the host. Please endure it for a moment; it may be somewhat painful.]
Not long after, a sharp throbbing pain spread through my head. It grew worse by the second, and soon a stream of memories surfaced in my mind.
They showed the life of the body's original owner—how he had been abused and ostracized for being born to a lowly maid in the castle.
His low status, combined with his complete lack of talent with the sword, condemned him to a life of oppression.
As I inherited those memories, my fists clenched unconsciously. My emotions surged, my breathing growing erratic, until my chest felt painfully tight.
I coughed several times, gripping my chest as the suffocating sensation worsened.
[Host, please remain calm. The body you inhabit is extremely weak. Even slight emotional strain can cause breathing difficulties.]
Hearing that, I straightened my back and closed my eyes, focusing on stabilizing my emotions. I regulated my breathing several times until the tightness in my chest finally eased.
Once I felt better, I spoke again.
"Display my status."
The system shifted into a transparent interface, revealing a status and statistics panel.
---
STATUS
Name: Alistair Xyrenflare
Points: 0
Age: 17
Race: Half-Human (Information Locked)
Class: —
Elemental/Non-Elemental Magic: Locked
STATS
Strength: 4
Agility: 5
Mana: — Locked
Skills: —
---
I stared at the stats in disbelief.
"Are you sure this is all I have? Can this even be called a human body?"
[The original owner's body was weak from birth. You must increase your stats as soon as possible, host—at the very least to suppress the poison currently present in your body.]
"…Poison?"
[Correct. The system has detected a toxin within the host's body that seals mana and gradually damages the body. This is why the original owner was chronically ill and had a short lifespan.]
I laughed.
"Hahaha… you've got to be kidding me."
I laughed loudly, only to start coughing again. I held my chest and steadied my breathing once more.
[Host, you must seek an antidote to neutralize the poison. In that case—good luck, host :-) ]
The system window vanished, and time began to move again.
"Damn system," I muttered loudly enough to draw strange looks from those around me.
The ruler of the Xyrenflare Dukedom heard my curse, rose from his throne, and slammed his hand against the armrest.
"Alistair, what did you just say? Have you finally learned to talk back, hmm?"
Realizing my situation was far from favorable, I shifted from sitting cross-legged back into a kneeling position, my head lowered.
"I wouldn't dare, Your Grace."
"It's good that you know your place. Remember—do not leave the castle during the banquet in the coming days. I don't want people knowing I have a son who can't even hold a sword."
Duke Arden's words would have been devastating to the body's original owner.
But I was different.
All I felt was that the cold-hearted man before me did not deserve any acknowledgment from this body.
Silently, I clenched my fists to suppress my emotions.
"I understand, Your Grace. If there is nothing else, I request permission to withdraw."
I lifted my head and stared deeply at the man who called himself the ruler of Xyrenflare.
Then I stood, turned around, and walked out of the grand hall with my head held high.
At the doorway, my half-brother—Leonhard—blocked my path. He patted my shoulder, pressing down with a trace of mana.
"Useless trash," he whispered with a thin smile. "Keep living in the shadows, Alistair. I want to watch you suffer a little longer."
I did not respond.
I continued walking, leaving the main castle behind and heading toward the small manor at the rear—where my late mother and I once lived.