Into a desolate abyss, its colors tinged with purple and black, fell something that seemed to be the impossible fusion of a human man and a stain of absolute nothingness. It was nothing but a black smudge, almost dark gray, with wide-open eyes of an intense, sickly white.
This thing blinked once, twice, even three times. He tried to open his mouth to scream, but unfortunately, he possessed no such thing as a mouth, ears, or skin.
Only a pair of white eyes.
The shapeless being tried to turn itself over as it fell, which it managed with almost no effort. But something caught his attention:
It felt nothing. It could only see an infinite abyss, and although it was "falling," it couldn't feel the wind, nor could it hear any sound or distinguish any smell.
Minutes passed, or perhaps hours, even days... who knows? In that abyss of strange colors, concepts like Time ceased to exist.
The dark stain crashed against the gray floor of the abyss, right where his back should have been on his strange body. He awoke once more, for he had fallen "asleep" some time ago.
With tremendous effort, he managed to get up.
Suddenly, an intense headache pierced his mind, so intense that it forced him to put his hands on what was supposed to be his head. Then came fragments—small, insignificant to the world, but not to that strangely shaped "boy."
He couldn't remember everything, only small, disconnected pieces, like one of those difficult jigsaw puzzles.
A house...
A computer...
Rain...
Coffee...
university classes...
Psychology...
Divided memories, searching for meaning.
He raised his hands and observed his "body" deforming and glowing in strange ways.
What... me? Where... why?
He remained still, without moving a muscle, just staring at his hands with their unnatural whiteness.
After the initial shock, he raised his head, but his eyes were fixed on something terrifying.
There were thirty specters, wearing black hoods that obscured their bodies, their faces covered with tragicomic masks. They were flying, their gazes fixed on him.
One of those specters, larger than the others, floated toward the boy with those sickly white eyes.
The boy stumbled backward, almost falling.
When he realized it... the larger specter was already behind him.
Black chains gripped the boy's body, nearly rendering him unconscious. Then, the specter murmured in a flat voice:
"Never forget... you are him, and he is you..."
Fire.
Purple and black flames devoured the boy's body, melting his strange new form. He tried to scream, but remembered the absence of a mouth on that body.
The specters surrounded him in a perfect circle, their faces hidden behind ridiculous masks.
Two minutes passed, the flames still burning, the specters watching without moving an inch.
The worst part was that the boy remained conscious, trapped in a body that felt more like a prison.
Seconds ticked by, each one counted by the poor boy. But then, suddenly, everything vanished...
Darkness engulfed everything, corrupting all in its path.
A pair of white eyes opened in the darkness, shattering the grim, somber tone of that world.
Now... I can... think...
He placed a hand on his side, though he didn't know why, since everything in his new body hurt, but that part hurt the most.
Suddenly, an intense light illuminated the dark space. The light blinded the white-eyed boy for a few moments.
After recovering, he turned toward the light and saw a human body, tall and slender, but what was most striking was that this body was made entirely of white light.
Is this the way out of here?
He began walking toward the luminous body. Then, he raised one of his purple hands and brought it close to the white form.
Before touching it, he paused, but then decided to touch it...
The white creature entered his body, causing him unbearable pain.
It felt like someone or something was merging with him, every part of his body being fragmented and reassembled over and over again.
Crimson blood filled the ground, and a dark glow burned everything in its path, leaving nothing but black.
A strange, black liquid began to fall and rise from all directions, and when it touched the boy, it intensified his pain.
Space itself shattered, while black lights pierced his body without mercy.
The minutes stretched into hours, many hours. Until the boy woke up in a bed of black wood and cheap fabric.
Cold sweat covered every inch of his body, He quickly got out of bed and looked for the nearest mirror.
His eyes scanned the room:
First, he realized that the house, or whatever that structure was, had a very Victorian architectural style. After that realization, he noticed a large wardrobe with smelly clothes inside, a table with many boxes and a broken leg, and a locked chest with lock. What struck him most was that everything was made of the same material: dark wood.
On a table with several boxes, he found a somewhat dirty mirror.
The boy approached it almost running and looked at his new form: bright red eyes, messy black hair, and a pale, thin body.
He backed away, his new red eyes wide. Then, he fell to the floor, and a name echoed through his mind like desperate cries:
Nero Alexue...
He looked at his pale hands, touched his mouth, his ears, and even his nose. His mind was filled with doubt; the pain of the fire still gnawed at him, but his body felt somewhat better.
"Wh-What... happened to me...?" he asked into the void. Then, he got up and looked around the room again, but a sharp pain shot through his head.
New memories were etched into the boy's mind: a name, a sister, an empire... a whole new life.
He sat on the wooden floor, which was a little sharp, drawing blood with any sudden movement. The boy's mind began to register all the information.
"It seems I've been reincarnated..." he murmured, his eyes still fixed on his pale hand. Then, with his eyes closed, he continued, "No... reincarnation only happens after death, and, although I don't know for sure, I haven't died... so I've just transmigrated."
After those words, he opened his eyes.
"Nero Alexue, 22 years old, seems to be my new identity... Rose Alexue, 17 years old... I think she's my sister. Also, it seems there are empires in this new world... but I can only remember the name of one: the Castevlad Empire."
Why am I so calm? Why am I speaking so calmly?... I just transmigrated to another fucking world!... Shit! I don't remember anything, just fragments and memories...
The new "Nero" initially considered the possibility that this was a nightmare, a very painful one. But immediately, he pinched his arm as hard as his frail body would allow.
It's not a nightmare... God, this is... real.
Then, another wave of memories hit him, although this time his head didn't hurt; his vision just blurred a little.
"Nero" lay down on the ground, careful not to cut himself. His mind registered that he was in Vickmolt, a city of the Castevlad Empire... the city of crime, one that had distanced itself from the rest of the Castevlad Empire.
"Never forget... you are him, and he is you..." he exclaimed, raising one hand, "Now, I think I'm Nero Alexue... so, I'll have to act like him."
Small details trickled into the new Nero's mind.
"Unemployed, orphaned, poor, hungry, thin, single, and a virgin... what kind of filthy transmigrated person am I?!"
After his outburst, he slammed his arm down on the wooden floor, but it only responded with a squeal that sounded more like a scream and a shallow cut.
"Fuck it, this damn wood!... wait... that number... twelve, twelve what?... twelve, twelve, twelve empires, twelve races!... each race is an empire, but I don't know the names of many races, and I only know the Castevlad Empire of humans."
Nero stood up and stared at the mysterious box. His eyes widened with doubt as his hands moved toward it.
Knock! Knock!
A young, female voice came from behind the door.
"Brother, are you alright?"
Nero nearly died of fright, but quickly recovered. He hesitated for a few seconds before finally answering, but after shaking his head, he opened his mouth and exclaimed,
"Y-yes, I'm fine... Rose."
The door burst open, and a girl with long black hair tied in a bun, red eyes just like Nero's, and dark circles under them, rushed into the room.
She wore a pretty, but somewhat worn, black dress—a small gift from her deceased mother.
"Nero... don't lie to me... Nero, your arm!"
She ran to him and grabbed his arm tightly. Then she tore a piece of fabric from the bed and wrapped it around Nero's arm, but first she wiped the blood away with the same fabric.
She's my sister... or is she Nero's sister? But I'm Nero now, aren't I? So she's my sister.
After finishing, Rose glared at Nero reproachfully, then punched him hard in the shoulder, since the size difference prevented her from reaching his head.
"You fucking liar! You're an idiot... Why the hell did you say you were okay when you were bleeding?!"
Nero couldn't help but feel bad, as the lecture was too harsh for him.
"Rose..." he said, his throat tight, "I won't do it again... I promise."
Rose hugged him tightly, her eyes almost tearful, and then shouted:
"That's not the fucking problem!... You always worry about me, but you never worry about yourself!"
Nero returned Rose's hug, a wider smile than usual on his face.
So I transmigrated into a world I don't know, with a sister who's already worried sick about me, and in terrible poverty... well, I hope things start looking up for me.