The air around me crackled with energy as I activated the World Transfer skill. A massive white gate materialized before me, towering like an ancient monolith lost to time. Its surface was adorned with glowing golden and red runes, their intricate patterns shifting and twisting as if alive. The symbols pulsed with a rhythmic hum, filling the air with an otherworldly resonance. The entrance to the gate was a pitch-black void, an abyss that seemed to pull at my very soul, daring me to step forward.
I hesitated, my fingers twitching slightly as doubt crept in. Even with all my strength, all my experience, there was something unsettling about this gate. It felt... alive, as if it were watching me, judging me. But now I am powerful enough. This is my chance to return. My chance to finally find balance.
Taking a deep breath, I clenched my fists to steady myself. "Let's go," I whispered, more to myself than anyone else.
With a final glance at the world I was leaving behind, I stepped forward.
The moment my foot crossed the threshold, an intense force ripped through me. My vision blurred, my body twisting and unraveling as if I were being pulled apart at the seams. And then... nothing.
I was weightless.
Drifting.
Falling.
My body was gone. No arms, no legs, no flesh—just a glowing ball of light, streaking through the endless void at an incomprehensible speed.
What... is this?
Panic surged through me. I tried to move, to stop, to regain control, but there was nothing to control. I was just... energy, a soul stripped of its vessel, hurtling through space like a shooting star.
I attempted to use magic. Nothing. My skills. Nothing. My overwhelming strength that had once toppled empires, shattered mountains, and saved entire worlds—gone.
An unfamiliar fear crept into my chest. Even when facing death, I had never felt this powerless.
I forced myself to calm down, inhaling even though I had no lungs. Think, Arjun. Think.
Was this part of the process? The gate had to be transferring me to Earth. Since my body wasn't with me, I could only assume that I was experiencing true reincarnation—just a soul on its way to be reborn.
I sighed—or at least, I thought I did. So... I'm really starting over again. A third time.
Memories of my two lives surfaced.
Once, I was just an ordinary man—Arjun Chhimpa, a citizen of Jaipur, India living a life of endless drudgery as a slave to a black company. Twelve-hour workdays, no weekends, no appreciation—just a cog in a machine designed to grind me down. I had no time for friends, no energy for hobbies, no hope for a better future. Then, I died. A lightning strike erased my existence, and I found myself in front of a Godly being who offered me a second chance—along with an absurdly powerful cheat ability.
Reborn in another world, a medieval fantasy realm filled with magic, kingdoms, monsters, and ancient weapons, I had risen to the top. From an unknown adventurer to a hero, from a hero to a legend—until I finally slain the Asura King. That battle should have been my final chapter, but instead, it rewarded me with a new skill—World Transfer.
I had believed this skill would let me return home, to Earth.
But now, doubts gnawed at me.
What if my powers didn't work on Earth? That world had no mana, no spiritual energy, no divine force for humans to wield. Would I be... just a normal human again?
The thought was terrifying.
I had lived as an ordinary man before, but after wielding the power of a god, how could I go back?
But then, I remembered why I wanted to return in the first place.
In this world, I had become too powerful, too well-known. People treated me like a god, and kingdoms constantly sought my help with their petty wars and political schemes. There was no peace, no quiet—just endless battles and expectations. I had saved this world, but in doing so, I had lost myself.
But I didn't want to leave this world forever. I wanted to travel between both worlds—Earth and this magical realm—to experience the best of both. On Earth, I could find peace, simplicity, and the familiarity of home. In this world, I could wield my powers, explore ancient ruins, and live a life of adventure. Together, they would give me the happiness I had always craved.
But now, as I drifted through the void, I couldn't help but wonder if I was making the right choice.
I let out a bitter laugh. Well, no use worrying about it now. Whatever happens, happens.
But there was one problem.
How long was this supposed to take?
Time was slipping away. Hours? Days? I had no way of knowing. Just an endless journey through the void.
Then, on what felt like the fifth day, I finally saw something—a light in the distance.
It started as a faint glimmer, but as I approached, it grew larger—brighter—until I could make out its shape.
A gate.
Another one.
It was identical to the first—white, massive, glowing with golden and red symbols that pulsed like a heartbeat. The same black void filled its entrance.
What is this? I didn't have time to react. My body—no, my soul—was already being pulled toward it.
And once again, I had no choice but to enter.
As soon as I passed through the mysterious gate, I found myself floating in space, staring at the Earth below. A wave of nostalgia washed over me—its blue-green glow reminded me of home, but the warmth of that memory clashed with the cold emptiness around me. I was still a formless ball of light, adrift and powerless, as the gate behind me vanished without a trace.
Where will I be reborn this time? I wondered, anxiety prickling like static in my non-existent veins.
Suddenly, I accelerated uncontrollably, hurtling toward Earth. Buildings blurred past me as I entered a country—likely England. I zigzagged through cramped streets, the faint smell of rain and diesel fumes hitting me even in my bodiless state, until I drifted into a three-story building. The second-floor room called to me, its energy faint but familiar.
Let's see who will be my new mother, I thought, half-hopeful.
But inside, I froze.
A man lay sprawled on the bed. Empty alcohol bottles littered the floor, their sharp, sour stench mixing with the greasy odor of half-eaten takeout. His face—unkempt beard, sharp jawline—mirrored mine in my previous life. Was this fate? Relief and guilt warred inside me. At least I won't be a helpless baby again… but I'm stealing someone's life. Before I could dwell, an unseen force yanked me into his body.
I gasped, eyes flying open. The room spun violently, and my head throbbed as if split by an axe. My limbs felt like lead, and a metallic tang coated my tongue—blood? I stumbled off the bed, my knees buckling, and gripped the grimy wall for support.
Then it began.
Heat exploded in my chest, searing through every nerve. Sweat drenched my borrowed clothes, and my muscles writhed like snakes under skin. Crack. A rib snapped, followed by the sickening pop of joints realigning. Fire licked at my veins, and I choked back a scream, my throat raw. The stench of burnt hair filled the air as my body reformed.
Hours passed—or minutes? —until the agony faded, leaving me panting on the floor.
I stood, marveling at my restored body. Now I could feel every energy inside my body that are used to be in my body. Basically, I have gotten my body back and just to be sure I casted Appraisal on my body and grinned. All stats intact! My cheat skill, World Transfer, even my Item Box with everything was here.
To test my power, I flicked my wrist. A water ball materialized, glistening in the dim light. Then a sphere of pure light, bright enough to chase shadows from the room's grungy corners. It worked! I laughed, the sound echoing wildly. I'm not powerless here!
I threw open the window. Cold air rushed in, carrying the honk of boxy cars and the murmur of a bustling street below. People in flared jeans and leather jackets hurried past. A street vendor shouted about "Hot pies!" while a nearby radio crackled with the tinny chords of a rock song.
My heart soared. I'm back.
But reality crept in. The room reeked of neglect—peeling wallpaper, a flickering bulb. I started to wonder Who was this guy? What work he did? Guilt twisted my gut that I might have taken an innocent life.
Then suddenly, A screen flashed before me:
"Merge with this body's memories? Yes/No."
The moment I saw the memory merge prompt, my breath hitched. Memories—good or bad—would flood me. I hesitated, recalling the last time I'd absorbed another's memories. A criminal's memories had once seared into my mind: the stench of blood, the screams of his victims, the twisted satisfaction he felt while torturing innocents. For weeks, I'd felt like a monster, his crimes haunting me as if I'd committed them myself. It took a Memory Management skill to purge the visceral horror, though I'd kept the facts to avoid repeating his mistakes.
Now, this man's life hung in the balance. Did I want his pain? But without his memories, I'd be a stranger here—clueless about this world's rules, his identity, or the dangers lurking. I closed my eyes, whispering a prayer. Let his life be free of darkness.
I clicked YES.
As I clicked yes, his life exploded in my mind like a shattered mirror:
Arjun Chhimpa. 22. Born in Chandigarh, India. Muggle-born. Top of his class at Hogwarts—Hufflepuff House. A year senior to Lily and James Potter.
Images flashed:
Hogwarts: Laughing with friends in the Great Hall, the scent of pumpkin pasties mingling with woodsmoke from the fireplace.
Jealousy: Slytherin pure-bloods sneering at his success, their insults sharp as curses. "Mudblood filth."
Graduation: Dumbledore offering him a role in the Order of the Phoenix. "You're needed here, Arjun."
India: Returning home to protect his family, the humid air thick with monsoon rains and the sound of his mother's laughter.
Attack: Death Eaters storming his home. The acrid smell of burning flesh. His father's last words: "Run!"
Torture: Wand snapped. Body bound. Watching his mother and sister die. Dolohov's laugh, cold and metallic, ringing in his ears.
Rescue: Dumbledore apparating in, robes billowing like a storm. "You're safe now."
Despair: Alone in a Bristol flat, the walls closing in. The bitter taste of poison. Darkness.
"W… T… F…" I choked, staggering back.
This wasn't just Earth. It was the Harry Potter universe.
Rage surged—white-hot and primal. The faces of his tormentors burned into my mind: Dolohov. Rowle. Corban Yaxley. The Lestrange brothers. Their smirks, their cruelty. My fists clenched, nails digging into my palms until blood welled. They'll pay.
But Arjun's grief threatened to drown me. His loneliness. His guilt. The suffocating weight of survival. I gasped, tears streaming as his sorrow fused with mine.
Memory Management Activated.
I severed the emotional tether, leaving only facts—like pages torn from a diary. The pain faded, but the names, the faces, the crimes remained. I'll avenge him.
The room was a mess—empty bottles, scattered wrappers, and the faint stench of alcohol lingering in the air. I waved my hand, using magic to clean up. The trash vanished into my Item Box's disposal slot, leaving the room bare but still heavy with the weight of Arjun's despair.
I sat on the edge of the bed, my mind racing. November 1981. Voldemort had fallen just days ago, and the wizarding world was celebrating. But for Arjun, the war had taken everything. His family. His hope. His will to live.
I clenched my fists, the anger simmering beneath the surface. Dolohov. Rowle. Yaxley. The Lestrange brothers. Their faces were etched into my memory, their crimes unforgivable. They'll pay; I vowed silently. Not just for Arjun, but for everyone they've hurt.
But first, I needed rest. The memory merge had left me drained, my body heavy with exhaustion. I lay down on the bed, the springs creaking under my weight. As I closed my eyes, I promised myself one thing: Tomorrow, I'll start planning. Tomorrow, I'll make them regret ever crossing Arjun Chhimpa.