Binding Strings of Fate

Darkness.

That was all I could see.

I couldn't feel anything. Not the weight of my body, not the air in my lungs, not even the faint rhythm of a heartbeat.

"Where am I?" The thought escaped me, my voice reverberating in the void like a whisper lost in a cavern.

"Emilya?" I called out, her name slipping from my lips like a prayer. But no response came.

The silence was deafening, oppressive, wrapping around me like a shroud. I tried to move, to will my limbs into motion, but they felt as though they no longer existed. I was a disembodied mind, adrift in an infinite abyss of nothingness.

A creeping sense of isolation gripped me, twisting in my chest like a knife.

Then, suddenly, I felt it—a sensation, faint and foreign. Something was wrapping itself around me, tangible and warm. Beneath me, a softness took shape, grounding me as gravity pulled my form down.

It was warm.

The first thing I could feel was warmth, soft and enveloping, pulling me from the void.

"Where am I? What's going on?" My thoughts echoed louder now, carrying a tremor of panic.

Trapped alone in this darkness, I was helpless—a prisoner in my own mind. Fear began to claw at me, raw and unrelenting.

I don't want to be alone.

"Hello!?" I screamed—or at least, I tried to. The words resounded within me, a desperate cry from a voice that didn't exist, for I had no mouth to speak.

And then, cutting through the oppressive silence, a voice answered.

It was feminine, unfamiliar, and calm.

[Mr. Lumian, you have three days left to prepare for your trial. Train your body and conquer the trial.]

"Trial? Who's Lumian?" I muttered, confusion clouding my thoughts.

As if responding to the turmoil within me, something shifted.

I felt it first in my chest—the steady, rhythmic thrum of a heartbeat. Then, the sensation of air filling my lungs, cool and reassuring. Finally, the faint awareness of my limbs returning, heavy and stiff but undeniably present.

I was whole again. A sense of humanity coursed through me, fragile yet tangible.

I tried to move. I tried to scream. I did everything I could to break free from this void.

"Wake up!" I shouted, my voice trembling with desperation as I frantically struggled against the unseen restraints.

"Wake up!" I repeated, louder this time, yet the darkness held firm.

"Wake up!"

"Wake up!!"

"WAKE UP!!"

Suddenly, the darkness shattered.

I gasped and jolted awake, my eyes locking onto a wooden ceiling above me.

"Did I survive the fall? Is this a hospital?" I murmured, my voice hoarse and uncertain.

The thought of a hospital came first, but doubt quickly crept in. Why would a hospital in the modern world have a wooden ceiling? Most buildings were constructed with concrete and steel, yet this place felt... archaic.

I glanced around the room, taking in the surroundings. To my right, a tall bookshelf stood packed with books. The spines bore titles in a language I didn't recognize—yet, somehow, I could read them.

One book stood out: Blessed Soul Core.

[Author: the power system including what Blessed Soul Core will be explained next chapter.] :)

Curiosity tingled in the back of my mind, but I pushed it aside for now. Focus.

"Am I... transported to another continent we never knew about?" I whispered. Solthara, my home continent, was the only land we ever knew, and the language of Tharic was spoken everywhere. The existence of an entirely different language hinted at a place we'd never discovered.

Setting that mystery aside for the moment, I sat up, groaning as my stiff body adjusted to the motion. A window to my right let in blinding sunlight, forcing me to raise a hand to shield my eyes. Slowly, I peeked outside.

What I saw left me speechless.

The houses were quaint and picturesque, built with a solid stone base and intricate wooden frameworks. Their steep, shingled roofs sloped gracefully, giving them a storybook charm. Small, glass-paned windows were neatly set into the walls, and the wooden doors were sturdy and inviting. Each home seemed designed with care, blending functionality with an old-world elegance that stood out against the simpler surroundings.

The people matched the setting—men dressed in long-sleeved linen shirts and pants in earthy tones, paired with rugged leather shoes. Women wore long woolen dresses, many adorned with aprons, their simple attire exuding a sense of practicality.

Yet not everyone was so simply dressed. Some wore partial armor, plates and leather pieces that covered only vital areas to allow for greater mobility. They carried an array of weapons: swords, axes, daggers, even bows.

My initial theory crumbled. This wasn't another continent.

"Where the hell am I?" I muttered, staring out at the strange, medieval world before me.

Instead of letting my thoughts spiral, I pushed myself out of bed.

Looking down, I noticed the clothes I was wearing—entirely different from anything I owned. A pristine white linen top and brown linen bottoms hung loosely on my thin frame. Curious, I raised my hand to examine it, only to pause.

My hand looked... small.

Too small.

This wasn't my body. My chest tightened as unease settled in. I looked frail, almost malnourished.

I turned my head to the right and spotted a wooden desk about seven meters away. A simple chair sat tucked beneath it, and hanging just above was a mirror.

From across the room, I caught a glimpse of the figure reflected in the glass. My stomach twisted. The person staring back at me wasn't me.

A thought crept into my mind, but I immediately dismissed it. It was impossible. It couldn't be true.

Driven by dread, I rushed to the mirror, shoving the chair aside as it scraped loudly against the floor. Leaning in, I studied the face staring back at me.

The features were unfamiliar—sharp, youthful, and delicate, nothing like my own. My fingers trembled as I touched the reflection, half-hoping it was an illusion, a trick of the light. But the cold truth sank in, undeniable and clear.

In this world, where magic and abilities exist, there was only one explanation.

I had been transmigrated.

Transmigration—the concept of taking over another person's body—was something I had only ever encountered in fantasy fiction. It was the kind of phenomenon you read about but never believed could actually happen. Yet here I was, living it.

But the fact that I had been transmigrated wasn't the only issue. It was who I had been transmigrated into.

The body I now inhabited was that of a tall, skinny boy with messy raven-black hair and striking yellow topaz eyes. His pale white skin had a delicate quality to it, almost feminine, yet there was no mistaking it—this appearance belonged to a boy.

As I examined my reflection, trying to come to terms with the unfamiliar face staring back at me, a sudden, violent headache erupted in my skull.

It hit me like a thunderclap, a pulsing pain hammering against my head in relentless waves. The sensation was maddening, the rhythmic pounding pausing just long enough for me to catch my breath before surging back stronger.

Then came the sound.

A loud, screeching noise, like a fork scraping against a plate, filled my ears. It was unbearable, clawing at my sanity with every piercing note.

And then, amidst the chaos, memories—foreign and alien—flooded into my mind.

Images, thoughts, and emotions that didn't belong to me rushed through my consciousness like a raging torrent. Each memory added to the pounding in my head, amplifying the pain until it felt like my skull might crack under the pressure.

I gritted my teeth, clutching my head as the memories continued to pour in, each one dragging me deeper into this unfamiliar identity.

[Unfamiliar Memories]

An unconscious boy, no older than seven, was discovered in the dark alleyway of the East City of Brail Kingdom, specifically in the city of Hegan. His clothes were tattered, barely reaching down to his knees, and his frail form was a pitiful sight. A young man named Donrel, a kind-hearted soul, found the boy and decided to take him with him, despite not knowing who he was or where he had come from.

When the boy regained consciousness, he was surrounded by unfamiliar faces. One was a young, beautiful woman named Eleanor, with brown hair and striking green eyes. The other was Donrel, the young man who had found him, with short auburn hair and piercing black eyes.

"How did you get here?" they asked, concerned.

But when the boy tried to recall the events, his mind was a blank. The only thing he could remember clearly was his name—Lumian.

Pity stirred in Donrel and Eleanor's hearts, and without hesitation, they decided to take Lumian in as their own son.

For the first time in his life, Lumian felt a warmth he had never known. He felt a sense of belonging, but guilt followed closely behind. He couldn't shake the feeling that he was a burden on this kind family, who had taken him in without a second thought.

Years passed, and Lumian slowly adapted to this new life, finding a sense of purpose in the small but loving family. He met his first friend—Morrian. Morrian was the same age as Lumian, with auburn hair inherited from his father Donrel and green eyes from his mother Eleanor. Despite not being blood-related, the two became as close as siblings, their bond unshakable.

But as time went on, a divide began to form between them. When Owen turned 16, he underwent his awakening, a rite of passage in this world. Owen awakened his core and discovered that he could manipulate two Fused Elements, a rare gift that bestowed immense power. But Lumian... Lumian still hadn't awakened his core. He watched in silence as his best friend embraced his new abilities, while he remained powerless.

[Author: Elemental Fusion will also be explained in the next chapter.] :)

One year had passed, and when Lumian turned 17, it marked the final year for him to awaken his core. His dreams of becoming one of the greatest pillars alongside Owen, standing tall among the most powerful in all of Nirathis continent, would either be fulfilled or shattered this year.

[Back to Reality]

With all the new memories flooding my mind, I began to understand the power system of this world. To my surprise, it was identical to the one I had known in my previous life.

I sifted through Lumian's memories like pages in a book, each one revealing more of this strange and unfamiliar life.

Then, an unsettling realization hit me, like a bolt of lightning. The female voice that had echoed in my head while I was trapped in that void.

I looked down at my new body, raising my arm in front of my face. The thinness, the weakness—it was undeniable. My muscles were nothing compared to what I once had.

Frustration surged through me. I gritted my teeth, narrowed my eyes, and clenched my fist, the anger boiling within.

"I actually have a high chance at dying," I muttered under my breath, the cold weight of reality settling in.

End of Chapter.