(Alan POV)
It had all been very overwhelming for me. Unbelievable and extremely shocking. To think that I had transmigrated to a new world. I had not been able to come to terms with my reality. My new reality.
But lying in the hospital, with all the machines surrounding me, slowly made me realize that this was indeed my new reality and that there was no going back. What had happened could not be changed.
It had been hard to accept everything that was happening to me, but eventually, I came to acceptance with it. I did not really have any other option but to accept this truth.
My previous life had been a mess. It had begun as a normal child with a happy family. Though not extravagantly rich, my parents had been well to do, and I had a comforting childhood. But not for long.
When I turned five, I was diagnosed with a terminal illness. A very different kind of illness. It did not kill you. Well, it did. But not in an instant but rather very slowly.
What the illness did was inflict immense pain and leave you almost immobile. So, the next twenty years of my life passed in extreme pain, suffering, and agony.
My parents and siblings watched me suffer, and there was nothing they could do about it. I was thankful to them. Even at my worst, they did not abandon me and never made me feel that I was a burden. The highest share of love from each of my family members was reserved for me. All that pain and torture continued until it finally consumed me fully when I turned twenty-five. Hopefully, they were able to live a happy life after me.
When I woke up again after dying, which I should not have, I was in this new world, in this new body. My body had been wrapped in bandages and was in an extremely critical condition. Technically, my predecessor had died, but you know what I mean.
Maybe it was thanks to a blessing that I was able to get out of danger through a painful process of recovery. I had been recovering from my injuries and my pain when I realized my power. A golden finger. Maybe a gift for transmigration. Call it whatever you want.
I had one or if thought of in another way, two varieties of powers.
The first was the sure shot, which I would call the benefit of my transmigration for this did not exist in this world.
I had the powers of a certain mutant from the Marvel world. A very famous and popular one, if I may say so. Wolverine. Logan. A powerful one.
And what powers had I inherited from the legendary Wolverine?
I possessed enhanced strength. To go with my strength was my superhuman regenerative healing factor, which enabled me to recover from near fatal and extremely serious injuries. I was very hard, practically impossible, to kill. Not immortal, though. I would also age extremely slowly and have a very long lifespan.
I also possessed superhumanly acute senses, enhanced speed, and high resistance to environmental extremes. This meant I was difficult to burn and extremely resistant to cold. Overall, I was powerful. Perhaps, extremely powerful.
But what about the legendary and famous retractable, adamantium laced bone claws and adamantium coated skeleton? Did I have them?
Well, yes and no. I had retractable claws, but not the adamantium ones. For now, what I had were purely retractable claws made only of my own bone. Although this affected my overall strength a bit, it was just fine.
But I had an option. I had a chance to coat my bones with another material. It could be anything. Iron, steel, any other metal, or even wood. Iron and steel would make me a little bit stronger, but using wood in a world of vampires seemed a better choice. Not that I had made my decision yet. I was still lingering in my thoughts and had a few ideas regarding it. Hence, I was in no haste to do anything about it.
And how did I know all of my powers? How did I know what I could do and what I could not? Well, all of this information was already in my mind as I woke up in this new life. How? This, I did not know.
Now, for my second gift? I did not know if I should call this a gift or a mere coincidence. For this power originated from my bloodline, from my family.
The Alejandro family was not a simple family. They were a lineage of witches and warlocks. And from what I had understood from a certain diary my grandfather had left for me, the Alejandros were not a no name, witches and warlocks. The Alejandro line was a quite renowned, reputed, illustrious, famous, and powerful line of witches and warlocks.
However, because of certain incidents, my family had stepped away from being warlocks and witches a couple of generations ago. The last active warlock in my family had been my great grandfather.
Now, my family, though they were witches and warlocks, were not really taken in good faith by the wider community of magic users. They were not liked very well, and in fact, quite a few hated my family. We were not really considered to be a part of the witch community.
The reason? We had practiced or used to practice some kind of forbidden form of magic. My grandfather had not explained everything in detail, but according to him, there was a hidden vault in the mansion where I could learn all the secrets of my family.
And had he asked me to become a witch, or warlock, being the term I preferred? He had said nothing about it.
He had left the choice to me and had asked me to do as I wished. The only thing he had asked of me was to remain safe, whatever decision I took. Though, he had admitted in his diary that I had already shown signs of being an exceptional warlock.
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