---
***
Unknown's Pov
***
Hmm?
What's happening...?
My eyes fluttered open, vision hazy and unfocused.
The soft feeling beneath me registered first—grass.
I was lying flat on the ground, like I'd just woken up from a nap.
Wait... what?
Why am I on the ground?
Still disoriented, I pushed myself up into a sitting position, then slowly stood.
My balance felt off, like I wasn't used to this body—or like it wasn't mine at all.
I glanced down—and froze.
What... am I wearing?
The clothes were snug, clearly a size too small.
They clung to my frame awkwardly, like they weren't meant for me.
But strangely enough, they weren't uncomfortable.
This is weird... why these clothes?
To test the fit, I rolled my shoulders and stretched my arms. I half-expected the seams to rip—but they didn't. The fabric moved with me, surprisingly flexible.
"Uhh," I muttered under my breath. "Didn't expect that."
Trying to make sense of things, I placed a hand over my stomach. Something had been nagging at me—and the moment I touched smooth, unbroken skin, I froze again.
The scar—my scar—was gone.
Gone without a trace.
No way...
This... this isn't right.
It took a few seconds before the realization hit me.
I'd been transmigrated.
Again.
A long, tired sigh slipped from my mouth as I looked down at this unfamiliar body I now inhabited.
"Seriously... can someone just let me die in peace for once?" I mumbled.
I tilted my head upward, searching the sky for some kind of clue.
How many times have I transmigrated at this point?
Probably around 5,000. Maybe more.
It didn't matter.
Guessing wouldn't help.
What I needed to do now was figure out who I was… and what kind of world I'd ended up in again.
Sunlight spilled across my face, warm and soft.
I squinted through the bright light until I could finally see clearly.
The sky stretched out endlessly above me—a deep, clear blue.
And right in the middle of it were two suns, shining side by side.
Two suns?
Honestly, I expected more.
After everything I'd seen, I wouldn't have been surprised if there were five or six.
The air was quiet.
A few birds drifted lazily through the sky, wings gliding through beams of light.
I heard faint chirping—soft, scattered.
Mostly sparrows, with a few crows circling at a distance.
The whole scene was peaceful.
Almost too peaceful.
And strangely…
I didn't hate it.
I slowly lowered my head and glanced around, taking in my surroundings as I breathed in the cool, fresh air.
Fuuuu~
I let the breath out slowly. The air was incredibly clean—refreshing, even.
It carried the scent of damp earth and fresh plants. From what I could tell, I was deep in a forest—calm, quiet, and untouched by people.
The trees were huge, probably somewhere between 40 and 60 feet tall.
Their thick branches stretched wide in all directions, casting scattered shadows across the forest floor.
Most of the trunks were wrapped in thick, dark green moss that clung to the bark like soft armor.
I'd seen moss like this before—this made it the 101st time, actually.
Yeah. 101. The last world had something similar, though the moss there was thinner and not nearly as dense as this.
As I kept scanning the area, something—or rather, someone—caught my eye.
Huh?
There was a person standing nearby.
He looked young, probably in his early twenties.
He had short, messy blue hair, sharp green eyes, and a face that could easily be called good-looking.
But the serious expression he wore didn't match the peaceful vibe of the forest.
When he noticed me, his eyes widened slightly.
"Wow," he said, clearly surprised. "You actually survived that, Michael!"
Michael?
So that's what this body's called?
Okay. Got it.
Now, the real questions—who is this guy, and what exactly did I survive?
Ha.
If I could just use my appraisal skills, this would be so much simpler.
Figuring out who he is?
Easy.
But of course, those skills are blocked—no clue for how long—so now I'm left guessing like some second-rate detective.
Anyway, back to the situation.
The way he spoke.
It was like he recognized me, or at the very least, he knew the person who used to be in this body before I showed up.
I figured he was probably a friend, so I decided to go along with it.
"Yeah," I replied casually, doing my best to sound convincing. "I made it through. Though I'll admit... it hurt like hell."
I threw that last part in to make it more believable.
But as soon as I said it, his expression changed. His face twisted in anger, and his eyes flared.
"What the hell?!" he shouted. "How the fuck did you survive that? That was my deadliest skill!"
...Ah.
Oops.
Definitely not a friend.
Looks like I guessed wrong.
Anyway, judging by the situation, he seems to be the one who killed the original owner of this body.
Seriously? Just how weak was the original guy to get taken out by someone like him?
I shifted my gaze toward him.
With a relaxed motion, I ran my fingers through my hair and gave a smug little smirk.
"That was your most dangerous move? Seriously? I thought it'd be something impressive. If that's what you call deadly, you might want to get a better definition."
I wasn't just trying to insult him—I was playing with him on purpose.
I don't know why, but I really enjoy messing with people's emotions, like they're just puppets and I'm the one pulling the strings.
The moment he heard me, he snapped.
"You bastard! How dare you talk to me like that?" he shouted, his face turning red with anger.
Tch.
How disappointing. He lost his temper way too fast.
Lame.
No fun at all.
At first, I thought he might be one of those calm, level-headed types.
The way he spoke and carried himself gave off that vibe.
I figured he'd be someone who stays cool under pressure.
Guess I was wrong—again.
Too bad. I prefer people who can stay calm.
They're harder to mess with.
You have to be patient, work your way into their heads, and watch as the cracks slowly appear.
That's what makes it entertaining.
But this guy?
He broke too quickly.
No challenge.
Not worth my time.
So I stopped paying attention to him and looked around instead.
That's when I noticed something strange.
There was a bit of silver light reflecting from my left wrist.
What the...?
I hadn't noticed it before.
It was a watch—sleek, shiny, and looked almost brand new.
Is this mine?
I narrowed my eyes and raised my wrist, bringing the watch closer to check the time.
When I looked at the watch, some interesting things appeared on the screen:
---
Name: Michael Frostburne
Total Rules Broken: 1
Current Rules Broken: 0
Time: 4:15 P.M.
Date: ????
Year: 2130
Rank: Iron-Rank Hunter
---
Huh?
So this body belongs to someone named Michael Frostburne.
His rank is Iron…
Doesn't seem like anything impressive.
I stared at the watch a little longer, feeling a wave of confusion settle in.
My eyebrows pulled together slightly as I lowered my arm.
Why's the date missing?
Why is it just a bunch of question marks?
At least I figured out a few things: his name is Frostburne, and the current year is 2130.
But beyond that, everything else is still a blur.
I don't understand what's going on.
Then again, this isn't anything new.
Things like this have happened to me before—ending up in a strange body with only scraps of information.
No clear answers, just vague clues.
It always leaves me guessing, but by now I'm used to it.
I don't panic.
Confusion's kind of my normal.
As I stood there, still thinking everything through, the guy I had just embarrassed suddenly yelled again—this time louder:
"Hey! Are you ignoring me?"
I didn't bother answering.
I just kept scanning the area, pretending he wasn't even there.
He stared at me, his eyes narrowing with frustration.
"Oh? So you are ignoring me…"
He paused briefly.
Then, in the blink of an eye, he appeared right in front of me, sword drawn.
"…then you should die," he finished.
Without giving me a second to react, he swung his blade in a wide, clean arc straight at my neck.
A surprise attack?
His speed was decent.
His timing?
Pretty sharp.
Honestly, he did everything right.
Except for one thing.
He assumed I needed time to react.
The moment the blade came just inches from my throat, I raised my right hand and caught it—barehanded.
He was fast.
I was faster.
I looked at him, expecting to see shock flicker across his face—panic, maybe even fear.
But instead, his expression remained calm, unreadable.
Like he had been expecting this.
Interesting...
He's not shaken.
That means he's hiding something—he has another move lined up.
Then, just as I thought it, he whispered with quiet confidence, "Got you."
In one swift motion, he reached into his left pocket and pulled out a dagger, flicking it toward my face with sharp precision.
But again… too slow.
I lifted my left hand and caught the dagger mid-thrust, stopping it cold just inches from my eyes.
The cool metal pressed against my palm, unmoving.
Now we were locked—his sword in my right hand, his dagger in my left.
A deadlock.
He couldn't move forward, and I wasn't letting go.
This time, his composure cracked.
His eyes widened, his voice dropping to a stunned whisper. "This… Impossible… How did you do that?"
I gave him a calm, almost amused smile.
"Ask your mother," I said, voice quiet but razor-sharp.
Then I brought my knee up and slammed it into his stomach with full force.
The impact landed with a dull thud.
"Ahhh!" he cried out, staggering slightly, the breath knocked out of him.
The pain made him loosen his grip on the sword—just a little.
But that was all I needed.
With a swift jerk, I ripped both weapons—his sword and dagger—right out of his hands.
He stumbled back, panic finally flickering in his eyes.
"Ahh, shit!" he gasped, clutching at his gut, trying to put distance between us.
He turned to retreat, ready to leap back and escape.
But I didn't give him the chance.
Before he could take even a single step, I lunged forward and drove the sword straight into his stomach.
The blade pierced through with a sickening sound, warm blood blooming across his shirt.
His mouth dropped open—but no words came.
For a moment, everything froze.
He stood there—stabbed—his breath catching in his throat.
"Ufhgh..."
A soft, wet choking sound slipped past his lips as he stared down at the blade buried in his gut, disbelief washing over his face like a slow-moving wave.
His knees buckled.
I stepped back and let him fall.
He dropped to the ground with a thud, knees hitting first, then his hands, the sword still lodged in his abdomen.
Blood was already pooling beneath him, dark and thick, soaking into the dirt.
His mouth opened again—this time trying to speak—but all that came out was a broken, raspy breath.
A gurgle.
His eyes found mine, full of pain now, and something else…
Anger? Maybe...
Too late for that.
I knelt beside him, watching him struggle, just for a moment.
His fingers twitched near the handle of the blade, like he still thought he could pull it free and keep fighting.
He really didn't know when to give up.
I calmly reached out with my right hand and rested it on his neck. There was no rush, no anger in me—just quiet focus.
"I don't know who you are or why you're trying to kill me," I said, my voice low and even. "But honestly? You fought well. Your planning, your speed, your execution—it was all solid."
Then I began to squeeze.
"But you made one big mistake," I added, my grip tightening. "You underestimated me."
He started to choke, gasping for air—but strangely, he didn't fight back.
No flailing, no struggling.
Just soft, shallow breaths and eyes that were quickly losing their light.
It was like he'd already accepted his fate.
He didn't die instantly.
It took a bit.
But finally, I felt the last bit of life slip out of him, and I let go.
His body crumpled to the ground.
His chest didn't rise.
No breath.
He was gone.
What caught my attention, though, was his face.
His eyes weren't open in fear. Instead, they were shut.
Calm.
Like he had died in peace.
Still, that didn't surprise me.
After living through so many lifetimes, being in so many different bodies, I've seen this over and over.
People choking, bleeding, fading away—and somehow, in their last seconds, finding peace.
It's happened so often that now… it barely feels real.
It's just normal.
I sat beside the dead body and let out a quiet, tired sigh.
"Ah…"
My gaze dropped to the ground, where a thick pool of blood had begun to spread beneath him.
It was dark, almost black in the shade of the trees, slowly seeping from the wound in his stomach and soaking into the forest floor.
There was more than I expected.
I watched it for a while, unmoving.
Then, eventually, I stood up and stretched both arms.
My joints popped softly as I moved.
It was finally quiet.
Peaceful.
Now that he was gone, there was no one left to interrupt the silence.
The forest felt still, and the only thing I could hear was the gentle rustle of leaves swaying above me.
I was just beginning to relax when a thought struck me.
Wait… I really didn't think this through, did I?
That guy might've known something—anything—about this world. Its rules, its people, maybe even its history. I had a chance to ask questions, to gather information… but I wasted it.
Now he's dead.
Guess I'll have to find someone else to talk to.
Still, I didn't feel too bothered.
Whatever. There's bound to be someone else out here. This forest can't be empty forever. And if I'm being honest, it's not like I really need the answers. I'm not planning to stay in this world, either way.
I already decided—I'll probably kill myself again. Maybe tomorrow, maybe the next day.
The only reason I even cared about this world's history was because I've always been obsessed with it. Cultures, legends, timelines… I've always found that stuff interesting.
I'm not even sure why.
But somewhere deep inside, I think it's connected to my first life. The only life that ever really mattered.
The only life where I knew peace.
The only life where I didn't lose anyone.
The only time I was… truly weak.
Strange, isn't it?
I want so badly to remember it.
That first life.
But after so many deaths, waking up in so many new bodies, the memories have faded.
The faces, the voices, the feelings—they're all just… gone.
Still, I think about it sometimes.
Like now.
I stood there quietly for a few more moments, caught in thoughts I couldn't quite reach.
Then, without any clear direction, I started walking.
Just wandering deeper into the forest, not really caring where the path would take me.
But I didn't get far.
Because something happened.
Something I hadn't seen coming.
The dead body on the forest floor suddenly started shaking.
I stopped in my tracks, staring at it from a few feet away.
Its arms and legs jerked in strange, unnatural ways—like someone was pulling invisible strings attached to it.
What the hell is going on?
First, the legs twitched.
Then the arms.
Each movement was more disturbing than the last.
Was he… actually coming back to life?
I wasn't sure, but something about it didn't feel random.
It was too precise, too strange.
Like something was controlling it.
Even though I didn't fully understand what was happening, I didn't move.
I had this gut feeling that something interesting was about to unfold.
And I was right.
Bit by bit, the body began to heal itself.
The deep wound in his stomach—the one I'd made when I stabbed him—was starting to close.
His skin slowly pulled together like time was reversing.
But the sword I'd left stuck in him was getting in the way.
The healing stopped around it, unable to move forward while the blade was still lodged inside.
Minutes passed—five, maybe ten—but nothing changed.
The whole thing was dragging on, and honestly, I was starting to get bored.
"Tch… he's still faking," I muttered.
Does he really think I can't tell?
I raised my voice, casually calling out, "Alright, cut the act. I know you're alive."
The body froze for a second.
Then, slowly, he turned his head to look at me.
His eyes locked onto mine, and I could see the confusion written all over his face.
"…How?" he asked, like he truly didn't get it.
Really? He wants to know?
I thought for a moment, then shrugged.
No point in keeping it a secret.
"Your fingers twitched," I said. "You're not exactly great at playing dead."
He swore under his breath. "Damn it…"
Then his face changed. His expression went flat—calm, serious, like he'd just slipped on a mask.
"My name is Scar," he said coldly. "And I'm going to kill you… because you took everything from me. Everything."
Scar?
That name definitely brings back some memories.
As soon as I heard it, a flood of old memories came rushing back.
Faded images, distant voices... moments from a life that felt like it belonged to someone else.
Yeah… those were the days.
But this wasn't the time to get lost in memories.
From the way Scar was speaking, it was crystal clear what this was all about.
Revenge.
So, Michael—the person who used to own this body—must've wronged him in some serious way.
And now Scar was here to even the score.
Talk about karma, huh?
I exhaled slowly and said in a calm voice, "Scar, or whatever your name is… I'm not Michael. I'm someone else."
He paused, staring at me. For a second, I thought he might actually consider it.
But then his expression hardened. His anger took over as he shouted, "Don't give me that crap! You're not talking your way out of this!"
I didn't reply right away.
Instead, I looked down and let out a slow, tired sigh.
Yeah… I expected this.
No matter what world I end up in, no one ever believes me. Not at first. Usually, not ever.
I really wanted to explain the truth—to clear things up and help him understand.
But I couldn't.
There's a reason. One that's real, specific, and impossible to get around.
And because of that… telling the truth just isn't an option.
It all comes down to this. I have two choices in front of me.
The first choice? Kill him. End the drama here and now.
The second? Let him walk away and hope he returns, stronger and worth my time.
But what's the point?
I'll be transmigrating in just two days.
I won't be around to see what he becomes.
I won't be there to toy with him.
So really, letting him live now would be meaningless.
I slowly lifted my head and met his eyes.
He was already staring at me.
That fire—burning with determination—still lit up his gaze.
I almost laughed.
Time to end this.
I shut my eyes and took a slow, steady breath, clearing my thoughts.
Teleport.
Or
'Max level Teleportation.'
***
Author's Note
***
Hey everyone!
First of all, thank you so much for sticking with the story all the way to Chapter 35. Your support truly means the world to me.
Now, let's get to the important part.
Chapters 36 to 42 are going to be big—each one is around 10,000 words long.
Yep, you read that right.
I've completely rewritten Chapters 24 to 42, improving the pacing, tightening the plot, and adding some intense overpowered fight scenes—which is why these upcoming chapters are longer than usual.
But don't worry! I don't fill pages with unnecessary fluff or flowery language just to stretch the word count. Everything is written to keep the story engaging and exciting.
As for the price—yes, I know the longer chapters cost more. But I've done my best to keep it fair: you'll only need to spend 66 coins for 8100 words, which is a significant discount compared to the usual rate.
At the end of the day, the choice is yours. Whether you decide to continue or not, I'm grateful you've come this far.
Thanks again for reading!