The pain… was unbearably painful.
A sharp agony gripped his stomach violently, as if something inside him were slowly tearing apart. The dream world that had been filled with joy and tranquility just moments ago suddenly shattered without warning.
Morgan, who had been dreaming of simple, warm happiness, felt an unnatural pain ignite in his abdomen—a strange, overwhelming pain, as if he had gone more than a full week without going to the bathroom.
"Ouch…"
He groaned softly, dazed, and tried to turn and look at his stomach, but his body didn't respond. He couldn't move his limbs, nor even lift his head, as if control over his body had been completely stripped away.
As if he were… paralyzed.
"Thinking about it, I must still be dreaming."
He tried to convince himself.
"I'll probably wake up soon… I'm absolutely sure this is just a dream. I've experienced something similar before."
Morgan was used to strange dreams, so he tried—as he always did—to focus, to force himself to wake up. But this time was different.
Even though he was certain he was inside a dream, he felt something unfamiliar. Random thoughts slipped into his mind, mercilessly disrupting his concentration.
"Why am I suddenly feeling this pain in my stomach… in the middle of the night?"
His face twisted from the intensity of the pain.
"It's… really painful."
Then an embarrassing thought crossed his mind.
"Could it be… do I need to go to the bathroom?"
His eyes widened—or rather, they would have, if he had been able to open them.
"Damn it… don't tell me I'm going to poop my pants! No, I don't want that! I'll die of embarrassment if that happens!"
Panic washed over him.
"I want to wake up now! Immediately!"
He tried to focus with all his strength this time, forcing his mind onto a single thought:
Wake up.
No matter what, he had to wake up right now.
And suddenly—
His vision was engulfed by pitch-black darkness, as if a curtain had been drawn over his consciousness. Before he could understand what was happening, he heard strange words—unclear in origin—whispering inside his mind in a tone he couldn't identify.
Then—
He regained control of his body.
He inhaled sharply and finally opened his eyes.
A foul stench assaulted his senses the moment he did.
"Don't tell me that I… actually did it!"
He shouted in terror. His heart pounded violently in his chest as he quickly lifted his head—only to smash it into something solid and heavy, a blow that forced him back with brute force.
He fell onto his back and groaned, clutching his head.
"Ah… that hurts…"
He lay there for several seconds, catching his breath, before finally calming down. Only then did he focus on the place he was in.
He was inside a narrow space, resembling a small square box, barely large enough to fit an adult. The walls around him were rough and worn, and the ceiling was so low that he had hit it the moment he tried to rise.
He looked around anxiously… then froze in place.
Garbage.
Trash surrounded his body from every direction—torn bags, rotting food scraps, and things he didn't even want to think about. The stench that had hit him earlier was now unbearable.
"This… isn't my room."
Fear seeped into his voice without him realizing it.
He tried to stand up quickly but had to stop for a moment as the stench intensified, battering his nose relentlessly. After a brief struggle, he noticed a lid above him.
He lifted it cautiously.
Immediately, he shut his eyes tightly.
The sunlight was blindingly bright, painfully so. He raised a hand in front of his face to block the light before slowly opening his eyes again.
And suddenly, his gaze fell upon a scene he had never seen before.
A decrepit street stretched out before him, its ground cracked and covered with mud and dust. Dilapidated buildings surrounded it, their walls eroded, their windows shattered or boarded up with old wooden planks. The place looked like a neighborhood long forgotten, devoid of any trace of the comfortable life he once knew.
Before he could fully take in the scene, he saw a strange creature pass in front of him.
It was dragging a large cart made of rusty wood and warped iron, emitting an irritating screech with every step. Its body wasn't entirely human—its form was twisted, and its features were hidden beneath a tattered piece of cloth concealing its face.
Morgan stiffened in place.
At that moment, a single thought slipped into his mind…
"Is it possible that I… transmigrated?"
His eyes widened slightly, and his heart began to race. He had grown up reading web novels, often imagining scenes exactly like the one unfolding before him now. But despite all those fantasies, accepting this situation was incredibly difficult when he found himself actually inside one.
It was fun… when it was just imagination.
"Calm down… calm down… calm down…"
Morgan spoke quietly to himself, trying to steady his breathing after moments of shock. He took several deep breaths, and with each one, he felt his body and soul gradually begin to relax. As his mind and body settled, unfamiliar memories began to seep gently into his consciousness, as if emerging from the depths of long-forgotten oblivion, slowly forming a complete picture in his mind.
Ryan Klemen, an orphaned child, belonged to the Harbin Empire. His parents had died when he was young due to a Carman going out of control.
As for the world he now found himself in… it resembled Earth, yet was completely different, as if it were a future version of it. A massive phenomenon had occurred on Earth, altering the laws of nature and making it possible for humans to acquire supernatural powers. However, the path to gaining such power was far from easy—those who sought it had to undergo brutal trials, ones in which death was a real possibility.
Ryan himself, having grown up poor, possessed almost nothing. At times, he had to steal just to find something to eat, and every time he was caught, he was beaten.
Morgan's mind moved rapidly, his eyes darting in every direction. Suddenly, the pain pierced his stomach once more—a sharp agony that made him look down at himself instinctively.
Lowering his gaze, he saw something he never expected… a strange piece of glass embedded in his abdomen.
Shock coursed through him, and his entire body trembled.
"Damn it… what is this thing in my stomach?" he muttered softly, his hands shaking as he reached toward the glass.
He moved slowly, hesitantly, but eventually managed to grasp the strange fragment. He squeezed his eyes shut tightly before pulling it out in one swift motion, unable to face what he might see. He quickly turned his head away, his heart pounding violently, fearing that blood would gush from his stomach…
He waited for long seconds, staring at his hands, then at the spot where the glass had been… but nothing happened. He felt no additional pain and saw no bleeding.
Slowly gathering his courage, he opened his eyes and looked at his stomach again, cautiously.
The shock was even greater.
His abdomen looked completely intact, as if nothing had happened at all— as if the glass had never been there in the first place.
Morgan staggered backward, his heart tightening in fear at the sight before him. The sensation that swept over him was strange and unsettling… as if the body that had a shard of glass embedded in its abdomen moments ago was not his own at all.
"How can there be no wound in my stomach after I pulled the glass out with my own hand?"
Morgan took a deep breath, struggling to calm himself. He slowly extended his hand and pressed it against the left side of his chest, feeling his heart beating fast and hard—rapid pulses brimming with vitality…
"What is happening?" he muttered with a frown, his confusion only deepening instead of easing.
After a brief hesitation, he decided to check his stomach once again.
This time, he examined it with complete seriousness. He slowly ran his hand over his abdomen, lowered his head, and inspected it carefully, not missing a single detail.
After several rounds of checking and reassurance, an unsettling truth became clear before him.
No matter how many times he tried, his stomach was completely intact… not even a trace remained to suggest that a shard of glass had been embedded there moments ago.
"Healing effects brought by the transfer…?" Morgan murmured softly, tilting his mouth to the right as if trying to convince himself with a logical explanation for what was happening.
Then he let out a long, deep sigh.
Whatever the reason was, whatever the explanation might be… one fact remained unchanged.
He was still alive.
After temporarily settling his thoughts, he reached out to throw the shard of glass away—but suddenly stopped.
His face was reflected on the surface of the glass, and he froze in place. He stared at the reflection for long seconds without blinking.
His face was completely covered in dirt, his features rough and unfamiliar. His nose was more prominent, his chin sharp, giving him a harsh appearance he was not used to. As for his eyes… they were what caught his attention the most—his eyes were crimson.
Morgan stared at the shard of glass for a few moments before finally tossing it away.
"It seems I was lucky in some way… to reincarnate into someone who at least looks better than me," he said, then furrowed his brows and added in a puzzled tone, "But why did I transfer in the first place? Nothing happened to me… I wasn't hit by Truck-kun, and I didn't die in any strange way. Could it be because of… that strange cult I was part of?"
A thought flashed through Morgan's mind like a bright spark piercing through the shadows of anxiety, bringing buried memories back to the surface.
As an obsessive lover of web novels and fantasy, he spent most of his time immersed in them—reading and watching endlessly, without doing anything meaningful throughout the day. He jokingly called himself "the Grandai," meaning the ultimate expert in fantasy, a nickname his friends mocked him for, calling him a fanatic.
Among the strangest things he used to do… was joining cults.
He would always join any cult that claimed the end of the world was near, or that the laws of reality were changing, or that it could grant its members supernatural powers. Every single time, nothing happened. Ever.
Until he joined a cult that was different from the rest.
They called themselves Scotus.
Their rituals were disturbingly strange. They demanded that a member pull out one of their teeth, one of their fingernails, and one of their eyelashes, then mix them with an unknown substance and force the member to drink it. They claimed that whoever did so would have their wish answered by the god.
It was a very small cult—the number of its members did not exceed six people. And Morgan was one of them.
He completed the ritual to the very end and made his wish without hesitation: to be able to use supernatural powers.
And yet…
Nothing happened at the time.
Who could have imagined that what did not happen back then… would come true one day later, but in reality?
"Transfer…"
"There is a clear possibility that this happened because of those strange rituals… but wait." His eyes widened slightly. "Does this mean my wish really came true? I wished for supernatural powers… so I transferred to a world where supernatural powers exist."
Morgan stopped thinking for a moment, trying to calm his mind overflowing with thoughts.
"Does that mean that if I repeat the same rituals, I'll be able to return to my world? To my family, my relatives, and my friends?" he murmured softly, for those were the true reasons behind his desperate desire to return.
Regardless of the risks, Morgan realized that he had to try. As he reaffirmed his plan to himself, he suddenly felt as if he had gained a new mental anchor. All his fears and discomfort were swept into a distant corner of his mind, leaving only a small space for rational thinking. At that moment, he managed to stabilize his emotions and begin observing with a clear mind, focusing on his surroundings.
Morgan looked around and noticed the filth covering everything. The ground was filled with dirty water, and trash was scattered in every direction. The streets were crowded with people beating each other mercilessly, and a small boy stealing a bag from an elderly woman without fear. There were also strange creatures pulling rusty wooden carts, moving about with no concern for those around them.
Despite the strangeness of the scene, nothing about it felt new to Morgan. For this sight—however bizarre—matched Ryan's memories, where poverty and corruption were part of everyday life.
Morgan took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart, then gathered all his courage before taking a single step forward…