A pale boy, his body a map of bruises and bandages, jolted awake. His eyes widened in shock. "Wasn't I dead?"
A scene flashed through his mind: his parachute malfunctioning at the final moment of an extreme skydiving competition. He remembered his rival walking out of the restricted area where the gear had been stored.
"That bastard," he hissed through gritted teeth. "He tampered with my equipment."
He paused, finally taking in his surroundings. He was in a spacious bedroom filled with luxurious furniture and heavy, beautiful curtains. The bed beneath him was softer than anything he'd ever felt. Where am I? he wondered.
He tried to stand, but a jagged bolt of agony shot through him. He let out a sharp cry.
Hearing the shout, a maid rushed into the room. "Young Master! Is everything alright?"
He blinked at her, dazed. "Who are you? Wait... who am I?"
The maid's face went pale. "Young Master, have you lost your memories? We found you beaten and bleeding out. You've been unconscious for three days!"
Before he could respond, a white-hot searing pain exploded behind his eyes. He clutched his head in his hands as a flood of unfamiliar memories crashed into his mind. The agony became unbearable, and the world turned black once more.
The maid immediately went to inform the head of the Carter family—the young master's father—about the sudden developments. When she reached his study, she knocked and was answered by the butler. After she explained everything that had happened, the butler went inside to inform the family head, who immediately ordered the clan's best doctor to attend to his son.
The doctor examined the young master and diagnosed him with extreme mental exhaustion. After determining he simply needed rest, then the doctor quickly set up an IV line that constantly fed in healing nutrients solution to heal his physical injuries and a holographic screen could be seen beeping constantly displaying his health status.Before leaving, he instructed the maid to watch the boy like a hawk and to call for him immediately if there was any change in his condition.
The next day, Roman opened his eyes to the same unfamiliar bedroom. As he lay there, memories of his fainting spell returned, followed by a flood of strange, new information surfacing in his mind. As he processed these memories, he realized he had transmigrated into a world of magic and monsters.
The planet was called Terra. It was divided into six continents: the Eastern, Western, Northern, Southern, and Central continents, along with the Island continent. Each was further divided into sectors. In this world, everyone awakens an ability according to their bloodline at the age of sixteen to begin their cultivation. While the origin of these bloodlines remained a mystery, scientists suggested that ancestors of humans had intermingled with beasts or acquired traits by consuming them over generations.
He realized he was currently in Sector D of the Eastern Continent, in a small city where his family managed minor businesses for the main Carter lineage, such as low-rated restaurants and hotels. He was now inhabiting the body of sixteen-year-old Roman Carter, a member of a branch family known for their dragon-related bloodlines. However, only those with the purest blood could awaken true dragon abilities. His father had awakened the Fire Drake bloodline—a level four lesser relative of dragons—while Roman's own situation was even more pitiful. He had awakened the Lightning Snake, a level two bloodline at the bottom of the power chain.
Depressed and seeking an escape from the family drama, the original Roman had gone to a cliff at the edge of the family territory. There, his cousin Brent—whose father coveted the family head position—followed him with a group of goons. They beat him until he fell unconscious and left him for dead. As fate would have it, a new soul merged with Roman's dissipating spirit, allowing him to return to life and survive.
As the initial vertigo of the soul-merger passed, a cold, hard clarity began to settle in its place. In his previous life, he had been a man who finished what he started, someone who refused to be a footnote in someone else's story. Now, looking at the thin, bruised arms of Roman Carter, he felt a surge of protective fury—not for himself, but for the boy who had been bullied to death.
"They left you to rot," he whispered to the silence of the room.
The memory of Brent's sneer—the way his cousin had stood over him with sparks of superior bloodline power dancing between his fingertips—was burned into his retinas. Brent didn't just want the family headship; he wanted Roman to suffer for the "crime" of being weak.
The new Roman felt a phantom pain in his ribs where the final kick had landed. He realized then that he couldn't just hide in this bedroom. If he stayed the "pitiful Level Two," he would eventually be swept away by the same currents that drowned the original boy.
The door to his room hissed open, and the heavy thud of boots echoed against the floor. Roman turned his head as a man entered, his face etched with a level of exhaustion that even the room's high-end lighting couldn't hide. This was Damien carter the head of this struggling branch family.
Damien didn't look like a powerful Fire Drake bloodline user. His shoulders were slumped, and his robes—though clean—were frayed at the cuffs.
"Roman," Damien breathed, rushing to the bedside. He didn't look at the holographic scree with disappointment. Instead, he grabbed Roman's hand with a grip that trembled. "Thank the stars. The doctors said... they said your neural pathways were collapsing."
Roman searched his new memories. He saw flashes of Damien selling off his own Profound rank cultivation treasures just to afford Roman's tuition. He saw a father who stayed up late at night, studying ancient texts to find a way to evolve a level 2 lightning snake.
"Father?" Roman's voice was a dry rasp.
"Don't speak," Damien insisted, reaching into his cloak. He pulled out a shimmering, glass vial filled with a swirling violet liquid. "I got it. The mental rejuvenation potion,It's earth rank quality."
Roman's eyes widened. He knew the cost of Earth-rank medicine in Sector D. It was enough to buy ten restaurants. "How? We don't have the credits for this."
Damien looked away, a flicker of pain crossing his face. "I made a deal with the Main Family. I signed over our mining rights in Sector D for the next five years. It doesn't matter, Roman. The businesses, the hotels... they mean nothing if I lose my son."
He carefully poured the liquid into the med-pod's injection port. As the violet glow entered Roman's system, the agonizing pressure in his brain began to dissolve.
"Brent did this," Roman said, his voice gaining strength
Damien's expression darkened, his eyes momentarily glowing with the orange embers of the Fire Drake bloodline. "I know. But Brent's father has the backing of the Elders. Without proof, I cannot strike him without bringing the Main Family's wrath down on our house. I am weak, Roman. I failed to protect you."
"No," Roman said, sitting up as the Earth-rank potion surged through his bone refining stage, making his skeleton hum with newfound density. He looked at his father's tired face and felt a foreign, yet deep, sense of loyalty. "You didn't fail. You gave me exactly what I needed."
"Father, stop selling our assets," Roman said, his gaze turning toward the window where the stars of Terra waited. "You've spent enough on a Level 2. From now on, I'll be the one providing for this family."
Damien let out a bittersweet laugh, patting Roman's hand. "Just rest, son. We'll find a way to survive, even if we're at the bottom of the ranks."
Roman watched his father leave, the man's back slightly bent under the weight of his debt. The transmigration was no longer just about a new life; it was about a debt of blood and love.
I have a second chance, he thought, his pulse quickening. And this world has magic. It has monsters. It has a path to the top. His motivation.