A young boy lay on the ground, slowly regaining consciousness. His body was twisted at an unnatural angle, as if it had been thrown there without care.
When he opened his eyes, pain exploded through his skull—sharp, brutal, as though a hammer had struck bone.
His stomach churned. His mouth tasted bitter. A low ringing echoed in his ears, vibrating deep within him.
For a moment, he did nothing but breathe.
The air was thick with a metallic stench, heavy enough to coat his lungs.
Blood. Rust. When he reached up to rub his aching head, his fingers came away wet.
Sticky. He stared at the fresh blood on his skin, strangely calm.
Despite the crushing weight pressing down on his body, he forced himself upright.
The world spun violently. He nearly collapsed again, but clenched his teeth and steadied himself.
Broken fluorescent lights flickered overhead, hissing like dying insects.
The place resembled a research facility—sterile white walls, polished floors—but it had been transformed into a slaughterhouse.
Blood was splattered across the walls in violent arcs. Bodies lay scattered everywhere, torn apart beyond recognition.
He retched. Only burning acid spilled from his mouth.
"Ugh… disgusting."
Five minutes ago, he was certain, he had been in his own room, reading a novel on his phone.
Now he stood in the aftermath of a massacre.
As his bloodshot eyes scanned the carnage, a thought surfaced—cold, unwelcome, and precise.
This wasn't random.
The damage was too consistent. Too efficient.
Before he could dwell on it, a translucent blue screen materialized in front of him.
His breath caught.
"…A status window?"
He stared at the name displayed at the top.
Aren Rayne.
The moment he pressed a trembling hand against the wound in his abdomen, foreign memories flooded his mind—violent, fragmented, unmistakably real.
His eyes widened.
Wait… isn't this the character who dies early in the novel?
And worse—
If those memories were right, then the people responsible for this place would be here soon.
Not to investigate.
But to make sure Aren Rayne never left this place alive.
----------------------------------------------------------------
NAME: Aren Rayne
AGE: 16
TITLE: None
NYX RANK: C
SPECIAL ABILITIES: – Reality Alteration (LV 1)
PERSONAL SKILLS: – Self-Defense (LV 7)– Mental Barrier (LV 6)– Stealth (LV 7)– Martial Arts Mastery (LV 5)– Engineering (LV 7)– Strategy & Tactics (LV 8)– Persuasion & Manipulation (LV 8)
ELEMENTAL AFFINITIES: – Unlimited Void (LV 2)
STIGMA: ■■■
GENERAL STATS: – Endurance (LV 7) – Strength (LV 10) – Ether (LV 15) – Agility (LV 16) – Perception (LV 15)
------------------------------------------------------------
"Aren Rayne… Aren Rayne…"
He repeated the name with furrowed brows, trying to recall where he had heard it.
As he pressed his right hand against a stinging wound in his abdomen to staunch the bleeding, a flood of foreign memories surged into his mind. His eyes snapped open.
"Isn't this exactly what happens in those web novels? Transmigrating into the body of a doomed character… Fantastic," he muttered flatly, clicking his tongue in annoyance.
In the story, Aren Rayne was the older brother of Amy—a member of the protagonist's party.
After a supposed murder spree, he was sent to IMFA, the most notorious prison in the world, where he was destined to be killed by inmates.
But this wasn't IMFA.
"But… why couldn't I wake up somewhere peaceful? And why didn't I remember this before killing so many people!" he grumbled, stepping over a body as he moved into the corridor.
With the elevators dead, he began the grueling climb up the emergency stairs. Each step felt like a mile.
Blood loss made his head swim, and the nausea intensified. He leaned against the cold concrete wall, gasping for air.
"Just... just a little further. Otherwise, they'll catch me."
When he finally reached the top, he emerged into a cold, cavernous terminal. After ensuring the coast was clear, he boarded a lone freight train stationed on the tracks.
Inside the cockpit, the smell of dampness and diesel fuel bit at his nostrils. The control panel was a mess of rusted buttons, cracked gauges, and an outdated touchscreen.
"A diesel-electric locomotive..." he whispered. His [Engineering (LV 7)] skill kicked in, feeding him the technical details automatically. A grim, satisfied smile touched his lips.
There was no key. Searching beneath the dashboard, he found a red cover labeled EMERGENCY START. Before engaging it, he decoupled the unnecessary wagons.
Then, he flipped the cover and slammed the button. The engine groaned, wheezing with mechanical resistance before roaring to life with a deep, vibrating thud.
"Good. Now, the brakes."
He hit the BRAKE SYSTEM panel. A valve hissed loudly as compressed air escaped, releasing the iron grip on the wheels.
He gripped the throttle lever, pushed it forward, and felt the massive beast shudder into motion.
"Let's see… I'm in Area C. To escape, I need to reach the terminal in Area A."
He glanced at the map on the wall, his eyes cold and focused. The escape had begun.
The train sped through the dark tunnel, hurtling straight toward Area A. After a while, Aren brought it to a halt just before reaching his destination.
The train screeched sharply as it slowed, and Aren listened intently to the sudden silence.
There was no sound.
With his high [Perception] stat, he sensed no presence outside. Realizing this side was just as deserted as Area C, he carefully disembarked.
Guided by the beam of the train's headlights, he moved swiftly through the darkness along the tracks.
Upon reaching Area A, he climbed upward. White fluorescent lights on the ceiling illuminated the area as Aren made his way toward the stairs.
This time, the staircase ended quickly, leading him to a heavy wooden door. As he stepped through, a long hallway stretched before him, bathed in a warm yellow glow.
The interior resembled an old mansion built in a grand, classical style.
Aside from the wind howls and raindrops lashing against the large windows, the hall was eerily silent.
"They shouldn't have reached this place yet," he muttered.
At that moment, a bolt of lightning tore across the sky, shaking the windows violently.
"Let's take care of this wound before they arrive."