NOVEL NEXT Chapter 1: Breakfast of a Transmigrated Indian Boy
Ankush Halder stood frozen near the dining room entrance, his eyes fixed on the television mounted on the wall, mouth agape in a perfect imitation of someone seeing a ghost. But what he saw wasn't a ghost—it was something far stranger and infinitely more shocking.
The morning news was showing a routine update about recent monster outbreaks near the Dungeon Gate at Howrah. The news anchor—a stunningly beautiful young woman wearing professional mage robes embroidered with elemental symbols—was describing with chilling nonchalance how a team from the Indian Magic Association had successfully contained a Level 50 B-class monster outbreak earlier that morning.
"B-class..." Ankush mumbled, feeling an involuntary shiver run down his spine. Memories flooded his mind abruptly, overwhelming him like a tsunami wave crashing ashore. He staggered slightly, gripping the doorframe as eighteen years' worth of vivid experiences surged forth—this world's memories rapidly replacing and intertwining with his previous life's recollections.
In this world, monster outbreaks were as normal as weather forecasts. Instead of cricket scores, people casually discussed dungeon raids, boss monster conquests, and magical gear prices over their morning tea. His confusion soon dissolved into incredulous acceptance as details coalesced within him: the history he'd learned at school, the existence of magical beasts, awakened professionals, and the sheer complexity of this world's hierarchy and its relentless focus on magical talent and strength.
He exhaled slowly, steadying his breath, trying not to look as visibly shaken as he felt. This wasn't transmigration into a fantasy novel—it was reality, one shockingly different yet also oddly familiar. He recognized the same furniture around him, from the slightly worn wooden dining table to the familiar floral curtains swaying gently with the morning breeze through the open balcony doors.
Ankush took a cautious step forward, eyes drifting to his father, who sat calmly at the dining table sipping tea, seemingly oblivious to his son's existential crisis. Ramesh Halder—his father—looked entirely unchanged, comfortably middle-aged, dressed in the casual robes common for a mage-teacher. Ankush knew, instinctively now, his father was precisely level 30—a perfectly ordinary mage specializing in basic elemental magic, mostly teaching introductory courses at a modest government-run magical primary school near Jadavpur.
His mother, Monika Halder, busily setting dishes of steaming breakfast on the table, noticed Ankush standing motionless and raised an eyebrow. Her voice was gentle, slightly teasing:
"Ankush, standing there isn't going to make your breakfast fly magically onto the table, you know."
He blinked, startled out of his stupor, and glanced toward his mother. Her robes bore the insignia of a novice alchemist, proudly displayed beside the government school emblem. Like his father, Monika Halder was exactly level 30, but as an alchemist, her classroom smelled perpetually of strange concoctions, herbs, and occasionally the pungent aftermath of failed potions experiments—much to her students' constant amusement.
"Ah... Sorry, Ma," Ankush stammered, moving to sit at the table. "I was just… thinking."
"That's worrying," his mother teased gently, serving him hot parathas accompanied by an assortment of magically-enhanced pickles and a healing tonic disguised cleverly as sweetened yogurt. "If you start thinking too much before breakfast, you'll end up a mage like your father, endlessly babbling about mana efficiencies."
His father chuckled softly, not looking up from his newspaper. "Careful, dear. At least I don't blow up the kitchen twice a week."
His mother waved dismissively. "That's called creativity, Ramesh. Exploding potions today mean powerful elixirs tomorrow."
Ankush couldn't suppress a smile. Even in this unfamiliar, magical world, his parents' banter remained exactly the same—comforting, humorous, and familiar enough to steady his rattled nerves. He took a cautious bite of his paratha, savoring the familiar taste mixed subtly with the peculiar tang of mana-infused spices.
"So, Ankush," his mother continued conversationally, stirring tea magically, "excited for the big day? Tomorrow's your Awaken Dungeon. I hope you're feeling prepared."
He swallowed nervously. Memories of this world's education and societal norms returned vividly now. Unlike his previous world's mundane job placements, here the Awaken Dungeon defined your entire life trajectory. Everyone trained relentlessly, and India's education system had reshaped itself into something ruthless and utterly meritocratic. Your initial performance in the dungeon set your life's course—wealth, power, and social standing hinged entirely on that single, decisive event.
"Well," Ankush began slowly, his thoughts spinning rapidly, "I suppose I'll just give it my best shot?"
Ramesh nodded approvingly. "Good attitude. The key is maintaining mana flow stability and not panicking. Although, considering your genetics," he smiled wryly, "I'd say moderate expectations might be wiser."
His mother elbowed his father playfully. "Don't discourage him! He could become an S+ for all you know."
His father snorted in amusement, raising an eyebrow skeptically. "Monika, the only S+ we've seen is Emilia Hart. She's literally a global celebrity. If our son becomes an S+, I'll retire immediately and spend my life gardening in a peaceful mana dome."
His mother giggled. "You can't even grow grass properly, Ramesh. Your mana kills plants faster than monsters do."
Ankush laughed genuinely at that, his nervousness easing slightly. The warmth of their conversation gave him space to think clearly. He glanced at the television again, which had shifted to a discussion on market prices, particularly highlighting the exorbitant cost of Free Attribute Fruits—rare, A+ grade items dropped only by equally rare level-10 A+ monsters.
The fruits granted ten additional free attributes upon initial awakening, an immense advantage that only the wealthiest families could afford. Priced at a staggering 100 million universal currency units—each equivalent to one US dollar—they were beyond the wildest dreams of a middle-class family like his own.
The news commentator's dry voice echoed from the screen: "The Free Attribute Fruit price has hit 100 million UC, making it increasingly inaccessible for ordinary awakened professionals. Experts fear this growing disparity might weaken India's overall defensive capability..."
His father shook his head solemnly, sighing heavily. "These rich kids nowadays… entering the dungeon already armed with free stats. Back in my day, we were grateful to awaken even an F+ talent."
"That's probably why you're still level 30, dear," his mother teased playfully, drawing another laugh from Ankush.
Ramesh chuckled again, accepting the teasing with good-natured resignation. "True enough. But hey, at least my mana control classes keep the bills paid."
Ankush grinned warmly, grateful that despite their modest levels, his parents remained content and supportive. His memories now clarified how middle-class families, like his own, relied entirely on innate talent and diligent effort to progress—unlike the wealthy elite who simply bought strength outright.
As his mother cleared the table, she glanced at him thoughtfully, her voice softening with genuine care. "Don't stress yourself out, Ankush. Your father jokes a lot, but talent isn't everything. The dungeon doesn't define you; how you use your power matters far more."
Ankush felt warmth bloom in his chest. Despite the world's ruthless logic, his mother's gentle encouragement remained unchanged, reminding him that some things transcended even time and transmigration.
He smiled sincerely, finally regaining his equilibrium. "Thanks, Ma. I'll keep that in mind."
Yet, inwardly, Ankush's thoughts raced ahead. He'd already lived a life defined by placement anxieties, fierce competition, and bitter disappointment. Now, gifted a second chance, armed with knowledge from two lifetimes, his ambitions soared higher than ever. This time, he wasn't content merely to survive—he intended to thrive.
As he finished his breakfast quietly, Ankush began plotting carefully, determined to rewrite his destiny in a world defined by magical talent and power.
This time, he would not be ordinary.