The first thing Arthur felt was an overwhelming heaviness in his head.
It wasn't the dull ache of a hangover or the sharp throb of a migraine; this sensation was far more intense, as if every thought had been glued to an anvil, pulling him downwards.
"Ugh... why does my head feel like it just got into a brawl with a truck?" he groaned, his voice rough and scratchy.
As he cautiously opened his eyes, the world retaliated. Bright light blasted into his vision like a barrage of arrows.
He winced and shielded his face with an arm. "Okay, noted," he muttered under his breath, "don't mess with the sun."
He took a full minute before he mustered the courage to lower his arm. When he finally did, he was taken aback.
Above him hung a gigantic crystal chandelier, so extravagant it probably had its own bank account! Hundreds of shimmering gems danced with the light, casting sparkling constellations across the ceiling.
"…Well, that's unusual," Arthur blinked, trying to comprehend the scene. "Pretty sure the priciest item in my apartment was a second-hand rice cooker that just died."
He glanced around, absorbing the details: polished marble floors, lavish crown moldings, and silk-draped windows that towered over him.
Everything screamed opulence, not the type that comes from a comfortable middle-class background, but that which is seized through ambition and power.
"I definitely didn't get rich overnight," he murmured, a frown forming as suspicion settled in. "Unless I'm caught in some kind of elaborate scam."
He attempted to sit up, but pain crashed in on him like an unwelcome guest. A sharp jolt of agony shot from the base of his skull to the back of his eyes.
Doubling over, he clutched his head as reality swirled around him, and then a rush of information overwhelmed him like a tsunami: names, dates, maps, ledgers in unfamiliar languages; arguments unfolding in smoky rooms.
"Aaaghhh!" The cry tore from him, raw and devoid of control, as sweat drenched his palms and back while every muscle trembled uncontrollably against the cold marble floor.
Somewhere deep inside, a cynical part of him that had survived his mundane office life noted how poetic this all felt.
His first death had come from too much information on a screen; this one seemed to stem from an overload of memories pressing against his mind.
Time lost its shape; it could have been minutes or hours before the flood of memories finally started to recede.
Arthur lay gasping, forcing himself to open his eyes again. "What… what just happened?"
But curiosity overwhelmed him, and he closed his eyes once more, diving into the fragments of his past, weaving together strands until they formed a clearer picture. Suddenly, realization hit him like a lightning bolt.
A bitter laugh escaped him. "Oh, you've got to be kidding me… I transmigrated? Died and got a new location? What kind of bargain reincarnation deal is this?"
Yet beneath that sarcasm lay a raw vulnerability. Memories flooded back: vivid snapshots from a life he thought was over: the flickering fluorescent lights of a suffocating office cubicle, the taste of cold instant noodles eaten at midnight, the train accident that had taken his parents when he was just sixteen, the indifferent faces of relatives who wouldn't take him in.
He remembered slogging through high school and college, balancing part-time jobs with classes, powered by caffeine and sheer determination.
He recalled facing endless rejections, forty companies in a row, all passing him over for someone with "better connections."
He had the grades and the ideas; what he lacked was a surname that carried any weight. Eventually, he found a job at a mid-tier firm, and that's where the real grind began: up at 7:00 AM every day.
He arrived home at 9:00 PM, feeling the weight of the day on his shoulders. Birthdays felt like a reminder that he often stayed late to clean up someone else's mess, while promotions seemed to routinely land in the hands of the manager's nephew, leaving the guy who had painstakingly rebuilt their analytics system in the dust.
In his previous life, he had been the smartest person in the room, not out of arrogance, but simply because that was the reality.
However, in a world that felt rigged from the start, intelligence seemed worthless.
He had fought back once, striving to ascend the corporate ladder based on merit, attempting to launch side ventures, giving it his all over and over.
But each time, the accolades went to someone else, usually a relative of someone in power. In that reality, intelligence was hardly a currency; it was all about who you knew.
Eventually, he gave up not because he lacked the strength to continue, but because it felt as if he were trapped in a cage bolted shut.
All that was left in his life was a dull routine: eat, work, sleep, repeat.
So yeah, he filled his late-night hours reading web novels and binge-watching anime between bites of stale convenience-store sandwiches, lost in fantasies of what it would be like if fate handed him a new life.
The last week had been a grueling marathon of deadlines, with no sunlight breaking through the windows,just endless cups of coffee and lines of code fueling his drudgery.
He ignored the nagging chest pains and blurred vision that crept in as he stared at spreadsheets, choosing to overlook them until his body finally staged a rebellion.
He slumped forward at his desk, his cheek resting against the cool glass as the cursor blinked on an unfinished report… and then everything went dark.
Now… this.
He surveyed the extravagant room around him. It wasn't just opulence; it was power etched into every arch and column.
A slow smile crept across his face. "Alright," he murmured, curiosity tinging his voice.
"Let's find out what game I've landed in this time."
And right then, the atmosphere shifted.
A low hum vibrated through the marble floor, resonating deep within his bones.
The chandelier's light twisted and flickered, breaking into luminous streams that flowed like living ribbons through the air.
[Ding… System Binding in Progress…]
The voice that echoed was cold, mechanical, and precise—like a scalpel slicing through the silence.
[10%...]
[40%...]
[70%...]
[100%]
[Binding Complete.]
[Congratulations, Host. The Strongest Family System has been successfully bound.]
Arthur sat there, frozen on the floor. This felt like something straight out of the web novels he'd devoured through sleepless nights, the anime marathons he indulged in when going out was not an option.
Not only had he died and moved to a new world, but now he was being gifted with a system as well!
He couldn't help but whistle softly. "Alright… Universe, I see what you're doing! First death, then relocation; now a cheat code? What's next, a starter pack?"
[Primary Objective: Rise, Arthur Osborn. Build a dynasty that will outlast empires.]
Arthur stared in disbelief at the words that seemed to stretch on forever. His sarcasm deepened, turning into something far more dangerous.
A sly grin spread across his face. "Well, well, well… look what we have here! Just days ago, I was mulling over this very scenario, and now it's practically knocking on my door."
His expression shifted, the glimmer in his eyes changing from amusement to sharp calculation.
"Not only did I die and transition to a new life… but it seems the universe decided to provide the typical perks for all transmigrators."
A low chuckle escaped him, a blend of disbelief and insatiable hunger.
"Oh…" his voice dropped to nearly a whisper, thick with promise, "…I intend to."