It was a Thursday afternoon, and math class was dragging on like slow torture.
While the teacher scribbled equations no one cared about, I scrolled through Amazon, half-asleep and looking for anything interesting.
That's when I saw it — a book with a torn cover and an absurd title:
"The Ritual to Cross Into Another World."
"Bro, seriously? You're actually thinking of buying that?"
My classmate, Rian, gave me that look reserved for idiots and lunatics.
"Why not?" I shrugged. "Better than watching you play games all day. What's the worst that could happen?"
He laughed. "Famous last words, man."
The book arrived on Saturday.
Perfect timing — no school tomorrow.
Its cover looked ancient, like it had been soaked in rain and dried under the sun for a century. The pages were yellowed, the ink faded, and the smell… like something dug up from a graveyard library.
It began with an absurd instruction list:
Prepare a red candle, salt, and your own blood.
"Well, that's easy enough," I muttered, half-joking as I drew the strange circle printed inside the book.
When everything was ready, only one ingredient was missing.
My blood.
"Alright. Let's record this," I grinned, setting up my phone. "If this goes viral, I'm set."
I pricked my finger and let the blood drop onto the sigil.
Light erupted.
It wasn't candlelight — it was blinding, swallowing the room whole.
The floor vanished under my feet.
I tried to scream, but my voice drowned in the light.
Then… silence. Visions of swirling galaxies and broken landscapes flashed before my eyes and...
When I opened my eyes, the world was bright.
Too bright.
Blue skies. Mountains floating like islands.
Men in flowing hanbok sparred midair. One flew on a sword, another rode what looked like a dragon.
My heart pounded.
"Wait… is this… Murim?"
Everything looked exactly like the novels I'd read — the kind of world where heroes soared through the heavens and villains plotted in secret sects.
"Holy shit, it worked…"
A laugh escaped my throat. "I actually got isekai'd."
But before I could even take a full breath, something slammed into the back of my skull.
Darkness swallowed everything again.
When I came to, I wished I hadn't.
The first thing I felt was wet metal.
Chains. Heavy, cold, biting into my wrists.
A faint sound filled the darkness — the soft chime of metal clinking against stone.
Then the smell hit me.
Rot.
Blood.
Burned flesh.
The floor beneath me was sticky. When I looked down, I saw why — pieces of bodies. Arms. Legs. Eyes. Torn apart like butcher scraps.
I was in a chamber lit only by red torches. Shadows danced on the walls like living things.
I tried to move, but my limbs trembled.
I didn't know how long I'd been here.
A day? A week? Longer?
Time didn't exist in this place.
Only pain.
They'd cut me open, poured poison into my veins, burned my skin, shattered my bones — again and again.
But I never died.
My body refused to.
The wounds closed on their own.
Bones realigned. Flesh reformed.
It wasn't healing. It was mockery.
Every time I came back, the pain grew worse — because I remembered. Every second of it.
Then came the hunger.
At first, it was normal — a desperate craving for food.
But as days bled into nights, it turned into something else.
It wasn't my stomach anymore.
It was my whole body screaming.
My bones itched. My muscles ached like they were chewing on themselves.
Every time my body regenerated, it consumed something inside me — energy, flesh, maybe even my sanity.
When I closed my eyes, I swore I could hear it.
A faint gnawing sound inside my chest.
Like something alive was eating me from within.
I bit my lip until it bled. The taste of iron didn't help. It only made me hungrier.
"Still alive, little beast?"
A voice slid across the darkness — cold, mocking, serpentine.
From the shadows emerged a tall man with slick black hair and eyes shaped like a snake's. His robes shimmered with symbols that pulsed like veins.
They called him Serpent-Eyed Demon, one of the Blood Cult's high elders.
He grinned, his tongue flicking out slightly. "Fascinating. Your body rejects death itself. Tell me, how long will it take before you beg me to kill you?"
I couldn't speak. My throat was too dry. All I could whisper was,
"I'm… hungry."
The man paused, amused. "Hungry?"
He chuckled — a sound that slithered under my skin. "Oh, you poor thing. Let's see if you can digest this."
His palm glowed purple. The air turned heavy. Poisonous qi gathered, hissing like snakes.
Then everything went white.
A sharp tone rang in my skull.
[World Message]
Name: ——
Qi: Not detected.
Your body rejects all forms of qi.
Mission: Become a True Human.
True… human?
What the hell was that supposed to mean?
Before I could process it, a shockwave rocked the chamber.
"Blood Cult scum!"
The door exploded.
Five figures in white uniforms stormed in, their robes bearing the sigil of the Murim Alliance.
The Serpent-Eyed Demon's grin faltered. "Y-you—how did you—?!"
A tall man stepped forward, silver hair gleaming in the torchlight. His sword hummed softly in his hand.
"Don't bother pretending," he said calmly. "If we're here, it means every one of your men is already dead."
The demon roared, raising his glowing hand.
"Then I'll take you with me! Serpent Abyss Barrage!"
Purple vipers of qi erupted from his arm, darting toward the silver-haired man like a living storm.
But the swordsman didn't flinch.
His blade traced a single arc through the air.
"Moonlight Cutter."
The world seemed to pause.
Then, in silence, every viper dissolved into mist.
The Serpent-Eyed Demon froze — eyes wide — before his body split cleanly in two.
The sword remained spotless.
"Blergh—"
A red-haired woman stumbled behind the group, covering her mouth.
"Th-this isn't the work of men… it's the work of devils."
The others remained silent, staring at the carnage that filled the chamber.
I watched from my corner, still chained, unable to look away.
For the first time since I came here, I saw something other than horror — I saw power.
I wanted it.
Even if I had to crawl through hell, I wanted to be like them.
One of them — a young man with sharp eyes — approached me and raised his sword to my throat.
"Speak. Are you one of them?"
I blinked slowly, throat dry, lips cracked.
"Do you… have food?"
His expression twisted. "You—bastard!"
He swung down. But before the blade reached me, the silver-haired leader caught it with his hand.
"That's enough," he said, voice calm but firm. "He's a victim, not an enemy. Don't let anger blind you."
He reached into his cloak and pulled out a small rice ball.
"Here, boy. Eat. Then we'll bring you home."
He sliced the chains binding my wrists. Metal clattered to the ground.
I hesitated only a second before grabbing the rice ball.
It was warm.
Tears welled up as I bit into it. The salt, the softness — it was heaven.
For a moment, I forgot everything.
The hunger, the pain, the screaming.
I felt human again.
"Th… thank—"
My voice faltered.
The warmth in my stomach turned cold.
My heartbeat stuttered.
The world swayed, blurring into colorless light.
The man's voice grew distant. "Hey—! What's wrong?!"
I wanted to answer, but I couldn't.
My vision dimmed.
Somewhere deep inside me, the hunger woke again — stronger.
And then, everything went dark.
End of Chapter 1