"Yawn… Umm… What a weird dream."
Kael muttered, his eyes drifting open with the heavy reluctance of sleep.
Morning had only just begun to stir. Pale sunlight crept along the horizon, spilling its first hesitant glow into the world while the earliest birds offered their tentative, liquid songs. For a single breath, everything felt ordinary.
Then his vision sharpened.
The ceiling above him was wrong.
A faint crease carved itself between his brows. He rubbed his eyes with both palms, trying to scrub away the stubborn film of sleep, but when his hands fell away the sight remained unchanged—unsettlingly, impossibly the same.
Familiar, yet completely alien.
"Hmm… what is going on?"
He pushed himself upright, the rough bedding shifting beneath him, and let his gaze drift across the room.
Confusion tightened like a slow coil in his chest.
This place bore no resemblance to his sleek, luxurious apartment. Instead of smooth polished walls and minimalist furniture, he found himself inside a crude hut. The walls were packed mud, rough and uneven, their surfaces catching the thin blades of morning light that sliced through a small, unshuttered window. A low thatched roof hovered low overhead, its dried reeds whispering faintly in the faint stir of air.
Even the air itself felt different—thicker, earthier, carrying the faint, living scent of soil and smoke.
His confusion only deepened.
What is going on? Am I still dreaming?
Nothing else made sense.
Then his gaze drifted slowly downward, settling on his own body.
And everything inside him froze.
His torso was bare. He wore only a pair of loose, coarse-fabric trousers that hung low on his hips. Yet the clothing was the least strange thing.
His body was different.
Much bulkier than the lean, sculpted frame he had always known. The skin stretched across it was darker—deeply, richly darker than the tone he remembered. Muscle lay heavier beneath the surface, shoulders broader, chest wider, every contour carrying an unfamiliar, primal weight.
His hands looked wrong, too.
Thicker. Prominent veins traced across the backs like cords beneath sun-weathered skin. Stronger somehow. Rougher. More brutally masculine than the hands he had lived with his entire life.
He lifted one slowly, turning it before his eyes.
Unable to stop himself, Kael reached out and touched it with the other. The unfamiliar fingers moved at once—instinctive, obedient—responding to his will as naturally as his own ever had.
He could feel it.
The living warmth of skin. The solid pressure of touch. The undeniable reality of flesh that was definitely not his.
A sudden shiver coursed through him, goosebumps prickling along his arms and lifting the fine hairs there.
"What is going on—"
Knock. Knock.
"Seventy-eight, come out!"
The words barely left his lips before a heavy knock struck the door of the hut—sharp, impatient, splitting the quiet morning like a whipcrack. A rough voice barked from the other side.
But… Seventy-eight?
Kael frowned, confusion etching deep lines across his face as the number echoed strangely in his mind. What was going on?
The person outside had no patience for his bewilderment. Another knock followed at once, louder, more insistent.
KNOCK. KNOCK.
"Come out!"
Kael rose quickly to his feet and crossed the small space to the door. When he pulled it open, a huge man stood waiting just beyond the threshold.
The man's body was thick with bulky muscle, his head shaved completely bald. A long, jagged scar sliced across his face, the hardened seam of it sharpening an already intimidating presence into something colder, more brutal.
He looked frightening.
Yet Kael felt no fear. In his line of work, he had faced men far more fearsome than this.
The man snorted.
"Hmph! You finally came out. Now get ready—your match starts in half an hour. The house is full, important guests have arrived, and the master told me to tell you: make this fight as entertaining as possible and try to win."
Kael's confusion only deepened as he listened. He wanted to ask what the man meant.
But before he could say anything, the man had already turned on his heel and walked away without another word, his heavy footsteps fading into the morning air.
And at that moment—
Memories suddenly erupted inside Kael's mind.
They surged through him in a violent flood, fragments of another life crashing into his consciousness like a breaking dam. They were not his memories… yet they felt as if they belonged to him now, merging with his very being, reshaping the edges of who he was.
Within that overwhelming rush, he saw the life of a young man.
The man's name was Kael Soren.
But here, inside the Red Serpent Arena, he was not called by his name. Here, he was known only as Seventy-Eight.
It was a title given to him after he had won ten consecutive matches against other gladiators of the arena, becoming the seventy-eighth person in its history to achieve such a feat.
He had been sold to this arena at the age of ten by his own parents. From that moment on, his life had belonged entirely to the arena. He was raised within its walls, trained and hardened for a single purpose.
To become a gladiator.
At sixteen, he began fighting in the arena.
Now, at nineteen, he had already earned the title of Gladiator, making him one of the youngest fighters to defeat the older, far more experienced warriors within the arena.
Yet even with his strength and victories, Kael's fate was no different from the others.
He was strong, but he had no freedom.
He could not leave the arena. The place that served as his living quarters was also his prison for life.
But that was supposed to change today.
The master had said that if he won today's match, he would finally be granted the freedom he had desired for so long.
Overjoyed by the promise, Kael had drunk to his heart's content—so much that he never even realized when his heart stopped beating.
And now…
Kael had taken his place in that body instead.
After seeing all of this, his face twisted with pure bewilderment.
He could not stop the words from slipping out.
"What the fuck? Why?"
Silence stretched for a brief, heavy moment—
{Ding!}
{Congratulations, you have awakened the Ecstasy Nexus System.}
{Form bonds with women to grow stronger by fulfilling their deepest desires and being there when they need you.}
{In simple terms: become the best husband possible for every woman you meet. Grow stronger together and build a powerful family.}
{Best of luck on your journey. We hope you live a wonderful life.}
{System out!}
Kael stood frozen.
For a moment, he had no idea what had just happened.
Earlier he had been overwhelmed with memories that did not belong to him—memories that made him realize he had somehow transmigrated into someone else's body.
But now… this?
A system? Seriously?
He looked down and let out a frustrated groan.
"What the fuck do you mean system out?" he muttered, before raising his voice in raw agitation. "Hey! Send me back to where I was!"
Kael couldn't help shouting.
He had absolutely no desire for some strange system, nor did he care about becoming the world's greatest husband to countless women.
All he wanted was to return to the world he knew.
But the system gave no reply.
Instead, the answer came from one of his neighbors.
"Shut the hell up, Sixty-Eight!" a voice shouted from the hut beside his. "Why are you screaming like some damn rooster first thing in the morning? You just ruined my good dream!"
Kael blinked.
For a moment, he didn't even know how to respond.
"…Sorry. Sorry."
He muttered the apology quickly before stepping inside his small hut and closing the door behind him.
Looking up at the rough ceiling, he sighed heavily.
Only one question remained in his mind.
"…Just why?"
Unfortunately, no one answered him.
----
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