The Imperial Schooler's Domain stood as the kingdom's most prestigious academy, a sprawling complex of marble towers and enchanted spires nestled in the heart of Ladom—the legendary City of Gold and Gods. Today marked the graduation ceremony for the fifth-year students, the moment when the realm's brightest young minds would step forward into their futures, armed with knowledge, ambition, and whatever scraps of power the academy had managed to bestow upon them.
But on the fifth floor of the boys' dormitory, in room 12098, none of that mattered yet.
The boy with messy red-and-orange hair stirred beneath the thin dormitory blanket. Morning light filtered through the half-drawn curtains, painting the modest room in soft gold. He stretched lazily, joints popping with a satisfying series of cracks as if testing the limits of this unfamiliar body. Only then did he open his eyes.
He sat up slowly and swung his legs over the side of the bed. His gaze drifted to the full-length mirror mounted on the wall to the right. For a long moment, he simply stared at the reflection staring back at him.
"Who… is this?" he whispered.
A student ID card was pinned to the corner of the mirror frame, its edges slightly curled. He leaned closer.
Name: Arthur Flamebout
Father: Benjamin Flamebout
Status: First Son of Duke Flamebout
Class: 5th Year
Roll No.: 12098
Section: Normal Literature
Arthur's eyebrows rose. A slow, incredulous smile spread across his face.
"So… I'm the son of a duke now?" He let out a soft laugh, half disbelief, half delight. "Oh! A transmigration? For real?"
He paused, tilting his head as if waiting for the universe to confirm it.
Then the smile widened into something almost manic.
Without another word, he crossed the room to the window, threw it open, and let the cool morning breeze rush in. The distant sounds of the graduation preparations drifted up from the courtyard below—cheers, music, the low hum of excited voices.
Arthur leaned out, staring at the drop.
"Fuckkkkkk," he muttered, still smiling. "I don't want to do this. Goodbye, you absolute bitch of a world."
And with that cheerful farewell, he stepped out into empty air.
For the first half-second of free fall, the smile stayed plastered on his face. Then reality caught up.
"FUCCCKKKK! I'm actually going to dieeee!" he screamed, arms windmilling wildly. "Wait—wait a second! That's what I wanted, but it's gonna hurt! Ahhhh! I hate pain!"
Even as the ground rushed up to meet him, he twisted mid-air and glared straight ahead, eyes locking onto some invisible point beyond the world.
"Who? No— are you guys? Are you fuckers watching me from another dimension right now?!" he shouted into the wind. "Fuckkk! Go to hell, you bitches!"
The wind whipped his red-orange hair into a wild halo as the dormitory blurred past floor after floor.
"If I don't die, will I get a system? But honestly—what's even the point of being happy about it? I'm not about to become some clown for a bunch of god-like assholes. Whoever you are—readers, watchers, guests—fuck off! Wait… do I even have an author?"
He waited.
No answer came except the rushing air.
"Come on! No answer?!" he yelled. "Fucckkk—"
The ground slammed into him with bone-crushing finality.
Every bone in his body shattered on impact. The pain was immediate, blinding, and absolute.
"Fuuuccckkkkkk…" he groaned through gritted teeth.
Arthur lay sprawled on the pavement, surrounded by the distant echoes of the graduation ceremony. His breathing came in ragged gasps.
"Oh my god… forgive me. I'm cursing way too much. Please, just forgive me and kill me already. Set me free from all this hellish nonsense. Ahh… I'm dying. Just… give me eternal rest."
He closed his eyes, ready for the end.
Instead, a strange cooling sensation washed over him, gentle and soothing, like a river of liquid ice flowing through every broken limb. His eyes snapped open.
"Fuccckkk! I'm on fire… but it's… cool? Damn."
Flames now danced across his entire body—bright, living tongues of orange and gold that should have been incinerating him. Yet they felt strangely comforting, almost affectionate, licking at his skin without burning.
The pain in his shattered bones began to fade. The fire was healing him.
Arthur stared at the flames in disbelief for a long second… then threw his head back and burst into wild, unrestrained laughter.
"Ah! I didn't get any system. Yohohoho!"
He laughed harder, the sound echoing across the quiet garden path behind the dormitory as the flames curled around him like loyal companions, completely at home on his body.
Flames danced everywhere.
The boy with messy red-orange hair lay flat on his back, completely surrounded by fire. Strangely, he wasn't screaming or panicking. He simply let out a long, tired sigh and stared straight ahead, as if looking through the scene itself.
"So… here we go again," he muttered. "Another transmigration. Classic."
He shifted slightly, ignoring the flames that licked at his arms like they belonged there.
"Let me explain before anyone judges me," he continued, raising a finger. "I went to sleep like any normal college student—peacefully, after another long night of procrastination. Then I woke up as the first son of Duke Flamebout."
He paused, grimacing slightly.
"Yeah… the name sounds like someone sneezed while trying to write 'Flameblood,' but here we are."
The fire crackled louder around him as he coughed.
"I'm eighteen years old and still a student at the Imperial Schooler's Domain." He glanced upward, as if reading invisible text. "Who even names a school that? It sounds more like the final stage of a video game than an actual academy."
He tried to sit up, winced in pain, and gave up, deciding it was easier to stay lying down.
"This world looks fairly modern—tall buildings, dormitories, regular student life. But beyond the city stretch endless forests. And anyone who's played even one fantasy game knows what that usually means."
He gave a small, knowing nod. "Trouble."
"So, naturally, the first thing I did after waking up in this new body…" He pointed upward with a weak finger. "…was jump out of my dorm window. Fifth floor."
A short silence followed.
"Don't ask."
Thankfully—or perhaps unfortunately—he hadn't died.
"All my bones were broken," he said, lifting one arm with visible effort. "Except for my skull, apparently. Plot armor, I guess."
The flames around him flared brighter.
"While I was lying there, half-dead and in agony, I thought to myself: 'This is it. The moment. The system is about to appear. I'm finally going to become overpowered.'"
He looked down at the roaring fire surrounding him.
"Instead… I got this."
The flames suddenly surged upward as if responding to his words.
"Just… fire."
At first, he had accepted it. "Okay, fine. At least it'll be quick. No more broken bones. A respectable way to go."
But then something unexpected happened.
The burns on his skin began to fade. The pain in his shattered limbs slowly eased as the fire seemed to… heal him.
He sat up a little, clearly offended.
"Excuse me?"
He rubbed his face with both hands.
"No, seriously. What is this? I try to die dramatically, and the universe gives me a free recovery buff instead?"
He let out a deep sigh, then suddenly clasped his hands together in an exaggerated gesture.
"Oh my god, forgive me. I've been swearing this whole time."
He glanced toward the unseen audience with a tired smile.
"But in my defense… I literally jumped out of a five-story building and got set on fire."
The flames rose dramatically behind him like a perfectly timed cinematic backdrop.
"I think I've earned a few curses."
The boy slowly pushed himself up from the ground.
The flames did not burn him. Instead, they moved with him—curling gently around his body like affectionate pets, dancing along his shoulders as though they had always belonged there.
"…Okay. That's new," he muttered.
He took a cautious step forward, then another. Barefoot, he walked straight through the fire without the slightest discomfort. Ahead of him stretched a lush garden, impossibly green and untouched by the surrounding inferno, as if reality itself refused to let the flames encroach upon it.
He glanced to the side—then turned his gaze directly forward.
"Hey," he said casually, offering a small wave. "Do you guys know what these flames are?"
He waited a beat.
"…No? Yeah, same here."
He continued walking, hands slipping into his pockets as if this were nothing more than an ordinary afternoon.
"But I do know one thing." He tapped his temple lightly. "I'm definitely inside some kind of story."
A small grin tugged at his lips.
"And you—" he pointed straight ahead "—are definitely watching me from another dimension."
He shrugged lightly.
"Pretty overpowered ability, if you ask me. Built-in audience."
He leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice in a conspiratorial tone.
"So… what do you think? Pretty cool, right?"
He took another step—and suddenly froze.
"…Wait."
His eyes widened.
"What the hell?"
He leaned in, squinting into the distance.
"Is that… Venisha?"
A stunned beat passed.
"WHAT?!"
He straightened up at once.
"Why is she here?!"
Another pause.
"And why is she so…"
He coughed awkwardly and quickly corrected his posture.
"Ahem. One second."
Turning back toward the unseen viewer, his expression grew serious.
"Okay. I might actually know where I am now."
He stepped slightly to the side and gestured forward with one hand.
"But forget that for a second."
His voice dropped, almost reverent.
"Just… look."
The scene shifted.
In the center of the garden stood a woman of striking elegance and undeniable presence. A dark, finely tailored jacket rested perfectly over her shoulders, every line and detail radiating power, status, and quiet danger.
Her mere existence seemed to command the world around her. The wind stilled. The flames grew hushed. Even time itself appeared to hesitate in her presence.
From somewhere in the background, the boy's voice returned—calmer now, tinged with nostalgia.
"…This world," he said with a faint sigh, "is a complete mess."
A soft chuckle followed.
"A mage world. Full of chaos, complicated power systems, broken characters… and absolutely unfair mechanics."
He paused.
"I used to play it as a game."
Silence settled for a moment.
Then, almost under his breath:
"…The Hell Force."