Pain. Sharp, piercing, and completely unignorable.
That was the first thing he felt. The second was the smell of a harsh mixture of rusted iron, burning oil, and the stench of his own blood.
Didn't I fall asleep at my desk?
He tried to open his eyes, but a heavy drop of grimy condensation fell from the stone ceiling above, splashing directly onto his forehead.
He gasped, his lungs burning as if he had just inhaled sulfur.
Suddenly, memories that didn't belong to him violently shoved their way into his mind, mixing with his mundane memories of spreadsheets and office work on Earth.
A gloomy underground city. Giant gears turning in the distance. The towering silhouette of the Tower pierces the cavernous ceiling overhead.
His name is Ray Miller, an archaeologist who studied under the Tower and worked for the government to explore a newly discovered ancient catacomb.
During the exploration, he stumbled upon an ancient magic scroll of immense research value, one that would fetch a fortune on the underground black market.
He had gotten greedy, wanting to keep it for himself, but was caught red-handed by a government official. With his reputation destroyed and no future left for him in the underground city, he seized the first opportunity to flee, taking the ancient scroll with him.
But the government enforcer and colleague from the tower already surrounded the ancient catacomb.
When he found no way out, he activated the scroll. It responded only briefly, then unleashed a counterforce that took Ray's life for good.
Damn
Why i have to transmigrate to this body? Why does he have to do something stupid? Now I have to live with the mess created by him.
Now, could I simply return the scroll? Perhaps — but I know all too well how the government and the Tower operate. They have no mercy for traitors.
His body bore the marks of a desperate escape — bruises from narrow passages, cuts from jagged stone, and a wound torn open during the chase.
Ray clutched his chest. His fingers brushed against torn fabric and a sticky, wet wound — one he had earned fleeing through the catacombs. He was slumped against the damp brick wall of a dead-end alley, the cold stone pressing into his back. In his left hand, clamped in a death grip, was the parchment scroll that had cost this body its life.
"Target spotted! Sector 4, abandoned alchemy district!"
A harsh, synthesised voice cut through the thick fog. Ray's heart hammered against his ribs. Through the hissing steam of a broken pipe down the street, he caught the flicker of crimson lenses — government Enforcers, closing in. Clockwork hounds driven by steam and cursed magic gnashed their steel jaws, their mechanical growls swallowed by the fog.
They were coming. He had transmigrated just to die a second time.
He looked around desperately, searching for anything that could save his life — but there was nothing.
But I've read that transmigrators get a system, a cheat or a golden finger. Did I get any of that?
He tried calling out to all of them, but there was no response.
Then, suddenly, a transparent blue screen projected itself into his retinas.
[Ding! Host's desire to survive has reached the threshold.]
[The Bounty System has successfully awakened.]
A System? Ray's breath hitched. As an avid web novel reader in his past life, he knew exactly what this was.
[System Rule: The more wanted you are by the world, the stronger you become. Your current government bounty is converted into System Points at a 1:1 ratio. You may purchase any item from the System Shop, which refreshes daily with 3 new items. You are allowed to purchase one item per day.]
[Current Wanted Level: Petty Thief]
[Current Bounty: 1,000 Silver]
[Current Points: 1,000]
"A thousand points," Ray muttered, spitting blood. "Wonderful. What exactly can I buy before I bleed out?"
The mechanical footsteps grew louder. The heavy clank-clank of the Enforcers' brass-plated boots rang against the cobblestones. He had less than a minute.
[First-Time User Shop Opened. Three Talents Available:]
[1. Curse Seal: Iron Skin (White)]
Cost: 500 Points
Description: Hardens the skin to resist low-calibre steam-rifle fire. Ineffective against heavy machinery.
[2. Alchemy: Acid Blood (white)]
Cost: 500 Points
Description: Converts spilt blood into corrosive acid. Ensures your enemies share in your suffering.
[3. Space Gate (Blue)]
Cost: 10,000 Points → [First-Time User Discount: 1,000 Points]
Type: Active Talent
Description: Tear the fabric of reality to open a Space Gate connecting two locations.
Ray's eyes locked onto the third option.
Iron Skin would just turn him into a walking punching bag. Acid Blood was useless if his goal was to survive. But a Blue-tier spatial talent, slashed to a tenth of its price? It was a no-brainer.
"System! Buy the Space Gate!" Ray screamed in his mind.
[1,000 Points Deducted. Talent: Space Gate (Blue) Acquired.]
A surge of cool, alien energy flooded through him, momentarily smothering the fire in his chest. Knowledge — ancient, vast, and utterly foreign — carved itself into his mind like a brand: the geometry of space, the language of distance, the art of tearing reality apart at the seams.
"There he is! He's cornered! Fire!"
At the end of the alley, three Enforcers raised their heavy, brass-barreled steam rifles. The curse seals engraved along the barrels flared to life, pulsing with a sickly purple light as lethal kinetic energy coiled within the chambers.
Ray shoved himself off the wall, teeth gritted. He raised his right hand and focused the strange, alien energy surging through his veins — then slashed downward, as if tearing a curtain from the air itself.
Riiiip.
Reality split open. A swirling azure portal, wide as a doorframe, tore itself into existence before him, exhaling a deep, resonant hum that swallowed the hiss of the broken steam pipes. He had no idea where it led — the abyss, the catacombs, a mutant's den — but anywhere was better than here.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
Three enchanted lead slugs screamed through the fog, cutting straight for the back of his skull.
Ray didn't look back. He threw himself forward into the swirling blue light.
The bullets found only damp brick, punching craters into the stone where his head had been a heartbeat before. The blue portal snapped shut with a violent crack, leaving the alley dead and silent.
The government Enforcers lowered their smoking rifles, crimson visors sweeping the bloody cobblestones — nothing but stunned disbelief etched across their faces beneath their masks.
The man was gone.
Somewhere deep within the obsidian walls of the Tower, a clerk adjusted a ticking telegraph machine as a new report came in. The bounty for the man named Ray Miller was about to skyrocket.