You're lying in your dimly lit room. Old porn magazines cover the broken floor, your last defense against the creeping rot. The air tastes damp and sour. Even so, eyes drained of light keep searching for a way out.
Am I going to die? The thought slips through your mind. A chill runs up your spine, sharp enough that fear alone could have given you a heart attack. Pressure tightens in your chest, not pain yet, but heavy enough to make breathing harder.
In that moment, memory finally coughs up the reason you're in this state. Your palm can still feel the exhausted, hot flesh it was wrapped around. Today was the day the internet's world record for the most times masturbating in a single day was broken by none other than you, a barely twenty-five-year-old loner.
A cry for help tries to escape your dry throat, but exhaustion has already caught you. Eyes that were once full of life now struggle against the closing darkness. A deep sigh leaves you, and a small smile lifts your shriveled lips.
At least I did it, forty times… The last twenty were barely anything, just air, but the record is still yours. Your heart stutters through those final beats as your mind clings to the achievement, and the darkness slowly consumes your body in the pool of your own mess.
Pressure clamps down again, harder this time, like the air has turned thick inside your lungs. A shallow inhale comes in wrong, thin and useless. The smile fades without you noticing.
Your heartbeat skips once. Then again. Wait… The room blurs around the edges, and the cold crawling up your spine finally claims what it came for.
[Milestone achieved]
[Extraordinary talent detected]
Silence breaks with a robotic female voice. Panic never comes, even with no clue what's happening. Lead-heavy eyelids try to lift, but there's no energy left in a dead body anymore.
A sudden flash twists the light around you, drenching the walls in pure gold and azure brilliance. A crimson sandal lands calmly beside your ear with a muted thud.
"What the fuck… so disgusting." It's the same voice again, only the robotic echo is gone. A woman stands ankle-deep in the mess you left behind. She lifts her foot and shakes off the sticky remains. Her eyes scan the room, then lock onto you.
"John Walkman, aged twenty-five. Cause of death—overstimulation." Sapphire eyes slide to your spent member. "What a waste…" That sigh carries the weight of someone looking down on you. If your body could move, you'd slap her for stepping on your hard-earned achievement, but the cooling flesh refuses to lend you a hand.
Light steps drift around the room, exploring your hidden stash of porn DVDs from the 2000s that you guarded like treasure. Soft fingers slide an old disc into the DVD player, and the screen blooms with skin and sound, filling the room with moans and a sinful heat that would get you judged in church.
"People of this world are…" Her soft voice pauses, eyes fixed on the naked thighs pressing against the man's hips. "That rhythm is skilled… I'm in the right place. People of this world are the only ones who can save my creation."
Her gaze returns to your cold body once more. "Sadly, this one is dead, but the system still chose him… what should I do?"
The last threads of consciousness want to scream that you're still alive, or at least you want to believe it. Cold truth says the body will never wake again, and the only thing keeping you from slipping away is the mysterious system she mentioned.
After a long stretch of loud moans from the TV, her finger lights up in golden brilliance, and the glow coils around your chest like a warm band.
"Listen up. I know you can hear me." The commanding, robotic echo returns to her voice. "You will be transmigrated to my world, taking over the body of a dead soldier. Don't be sad, that body is in perfect condition, and it has a far bigger weapon. Ahem…"
Her words brush your fading consciousness, and an invisible tug yanks the world into a spin. Darkness that clung to you like an old friend tears away, replaced by a blazing swirl of color, and you're shooting through it like a body flung down a waterpark slide, too fast to breathe, too bright to think.
A single thought cuts through the chaos: I'm not ready to die yet. Despite what the mysterious woman told you, the reality is too hard to believe in the moment.
Just as it seems like it's about to end, a flash of light snatches you and yanks so hard it feels like you're falling from the sky.
"Haaa!" Your lungs drag in a deep breath of cold air. Eyes that were never meant to open again snap wide, meeting a world of crimson rivers and mountains. A careful look kills that illusion fast. This isn't nature. It's layers upon layers of corpses, blood running in streams like a flood.
"Shit! What the hell!?" Arms and legs shove you back in panicked jolts, the sudden sight of death making you wonder if you've landed in hell for all your sins. Pain ripping through your left shoulder proves this body is still alive.
"Rookie, are you okay?!" A young woman's voice cuts through the panic. A soft hand grabs your shoulder and hauls you up. Heavy breathing makes you dizzy. Maybe that's why, as your head turns to meet the crimson eyes of a stranger who looks like she's in her late teens, easily eighteen, you swear you can see a halo above her head.
"I… I…" A sudden spike of pain rips through your temples, almost knocking you unconscious.
[Welcome to the world of Lumina]
A robotic voice you swear you've heard before speaks directly into your mind.
[Your new name in this world is Nox]
[This body houses the power of magic. Use it wisely. For any questions, refer to the system screen before you. Save my dying world, user. Repopulate it. Kill the enemies, and you will be rewarded with immortal life, and the powers of a true god.]