Her tanned skin on that streamlined physique glistened with a light sheen of sweat, the musky scent of sun-kissed skin, earth, and primal allure of women wafted from the MILF, stoking his awakening desires.
Each touch from her electrifying hands seemed to promise succor and forbidden pleasures alike, awakening a hunger in him that threatened to consume them both. As she leaned in, the heat of her body, the very essence of her being, reverberated through him, stoking the flames of his desire into an all-consuming inferno.
Just when he felt that he was about to lose it all, the ever present headache awakened him from her enticement, and switched on his upper brain again, as he asked himself, 'What am I? Where am I? and most importantly who is this smoking hot milf?'
This woman…
Just as the thought emerged, a sharp pain filled his head, so intense that he just wished to pass out, but his brain refused to comply and stayed wide awake, letting him thoroughly enjoy the pain.
He rolled around trying to ease the pain. It was like thousands of needles poking his head, various fragments of memory continuing to drift in his mind, and he knew that they were definitely not his own.
Seeing him like this the woman was startled and cried out in alarm "Sol! Sol! What's wrong? Don't frighten me like this!" Seemingly thinking of something, she hurried out of what you can say a thatched hut, as it was patched together with wood, hay, and animal leather.
After what felt like an eternity, the pain finally began to subside. Not disappear… just loosen its grip enough to allow him to at last breath again.
A rapid, ragged exhale tore out of his lungs, as he tried to catch his breath again.
By now his whole body was drenched in sweat. Every muscle throbbed like it had been cooked over an open fire. His mildly tanned skin flushed crimson, veins still pulsing from whatever cosmic crap he'd just gone through.
He stared up at the ceiling, chest rising and falling, heartbeat still pounding like an old engine that refused to die.
Exhale.
The sound was half relief, half disbelief.
For a long second, he didn't move. Didn't speak. Didn't even think. His brain was still buffering reality.
Then, slowly, like a half-corrupted file trying to reload, the memories started coming back… fragmented, glitchy, out of order.
And he finally remembered who he was. Where he was. And most importantly…what the hell just happened.
He looked at the roof above him with a complicated expression, because it was not concrete or plaster, instead it was all straw and hay.
A thatched roof, uneven and patched like it was built by someone drunk. Sunlight filtered through the cracks, warm and golden, landing across his sweaty face.
He frowned, the corner of his mouth twitching like he couldn't decide if he should laugh or panic.
"...You've got to be kidding me."
He muttered as he didn't know whether to say it was his good luck or bad luck. It was so absurd that for a second, he genuinely thought this was some post-death fever dream.
But no… everything felt too real. The rough bedding scratching his skin, the faint smell of ash and dirt, the slow hum of insects outside.
He tried to sit up, and every bone in his body protested.
His body felt different. Lighter somehow, but raw…like a system reboot running on new hardware.
He took another breath, stared at his trembling hands, and let out a small, shaky laugh.
"Guess I really respawned."
Anyway, his name is Sol… just Sol, nothing else. No last name. No middle name, just a short, simple word that apparently meant sun, as his parents said that he looked like a little sun when he was born. Bright. Warm. Full of life.
And wanted the sun to bless him, protect him, guide him. So they simply named him Sol, meaning sun.
Yes, the names in this era are just so casual.
Cute story.
But at least the name was good enough.
And as you already know, our boy here is a proud transmigrator. Yes, that same cliché trope.
Not that it's something rare or to be proud of anymore… honestly, it's about as impressive as owning a cracked phone screen. Transmigrators these days are like mosquitoes: they pop up everywhere.
Whole libraries of web novels are filled with them.
Every third protagonist wakes up with divine bloodlines, infinite systems, or ten wives waiting in line for his reincarnated ass. It's gotten so bad that half the readers like you just close the tab the moment they see the words "I woke up in another world."
But still… here he is.
Another one. Another poor bastard who died in the dumbest way possible and somehow got isekai'd instead of deleted.
The real kicker though?
It's not the reincarnation part.
It's where he ended up.
Because this isn't one of those fancy "magical kingdoms" or "sci-fi empires" settings where you wake up as a noble or a prince or even a peasant with plot armor.
No.
He got sent to a primitive world.
And not the "ah yes, loincloths and stone huts" kind you see in lazy fantasy stories.
We're talking prehistoric. The actual Paleolithic Era.
For those of you who skipped school or dropped out like him… that's the time when humans weren't "building nations."
They were busy trying not to get eaten by something with fur, claws, and an anger problem.
Tribes. Spears. Fire… if you were lucky
Hunting, bleeding, dying, repeating.
No houses. No metal. No farming. No Wi-Fi. No memes. No civilization, period.
Just endless prehistoric forests, towering beasts, and nature that didn't give a single damn whether you lived or died.
So yeah, "transmigrator" or not, Sol wasn't exactly feeling like a chosen one right now.
He wasn't reborn as a prince, or a genius, or some beggar with a special system host, at least not yet, as he really hasn't heard any ding.