Chapter 1: The Most Inhumane Existence
Earth, as many knew it, was simply a typical mortal world—a mundane realm where people engaged in ordinary activities, such as commuting to and from work, pursuing hobbies, or partaking in other everyday routines.
Yet, despite its apparent normalcy, countless circumstances existed that could render life deeply torturous for anyone.
Such hardships might include extreme poverty, relentless bullying, physical torment, or the anguish of heartbreak.
Among the endless possibilities capable of turning existence into a waking nightmare, one particular case stood out.
Out of the eight billion humans inhabiting Earth, there was a single young man, just eighteen years old, who might have had something significant to contribute to that conversation.
----
And... for Akasha in particular, Earth had always been nothing more than a tale of endless neglect.
His white hair, pale as freshly fallen snow, caught the dim afternoon light as he shuffled along the cracked sidewalk, his ragged clothes carrying the unmistakable stench of weeks without a wash.
Faint scars traced their way across his bare forearms and neck, while his hollow cheeks and sunken eyes told the story of constant hunger—perhaps even hinting at an untreated illness, one he might be enduring in silence.
However, if he did have some illness, it was something he could never uncover, no matter how hard he tried.
Yet, despite his strange circumstances and the life he had led, his voice carried an easy, casual lilt as his bare feet scraped lightly across the gritty concrete.
"Same old shit... just a different day~," he sang softly, the words familiar as breathing.
As he walked, he reached toward a passing woman in a crisp suit, scarred fingers brushing the warmth of her skin.
"Excuse me—"
She walked right past the gesture; her eyes fixed on her phone.
Seeing this, he didn’t feel disheartened in the slightest; instead, he made another attempt, this time with a hard-hatted worker, only to be met with the same empty response.
A soft laugh escaped him again—not sharp with bitterness, but easy, like the quiet comfort of something long accepted. In eighteen years, not a single person had ever truly seen him.
He had essentially been born into an orphanage, with no family to speak of, as his birth parents had abandoned him at the earliest chance they got.
Even there, within the orphanage walls, he existed like a shadow on the wall—overlooked and forgotten—without meals to fill his stomach, blankets to keep him warm, or words to remind him he mattered.
He got by on stolen scraps until, at ten, he walked away and faced the streets alone.
That day was only the start of a harsh life—eight more years of untreated injuries, unchecked fevers, and hunger as his only companion.
Yet he never grew bitter.... and somehow managed to keep his head held high through.... most of it.
Now, he’s in the one place that’s ever felt like home: an open field where tall grass brushes his skin, leaves crunch underfoot, and sunsets paint the sky.
Unlike usual, he had no novels or anything else to keep himself particularly entertained, so he simply leaned back and closed his eyes.
"Who cares?" he murmured with a smile. "I gave up long ago on living to be noticed by these miserable humans."
Even though he was no different from them in terms of anatomy, he had always seen himself as something more.
It was quite funny, really, considering he’d spent his entire life as a homeless drifter. Yet, that was how all his favorite novels began, and maybe that had clouded his way of thinking.
It wasn’t just his tendency to shrug things off, though.
His freedom to live however he pleased came from a simple truth—acceptance.
Acceptance that things happen, and there’s no point crying over spilled milk.
BANG!!!
But just as he settled deeper into the grass, a sharp rock cracked against the side of his head, sending a hot sting blooming across his temple.
A rough laugh cut through the quiet from nearby.
"Yo! Look at this bum lying there like he belongs in this field!"
It wasn’t the rock that really caught the Akasha’s attention. He’d been through far stranger things for a simple hit to the head to faze him.
But the voices... and the way they seemed aimed right at him.
’Me? This bum?’ he thought, and with that, he slowly got to his feet, brushing grass from his white hair, and turned to see what was happening.
Then he saw them....
A large group of thugs stood a short distance away, their figures silhouetted against the fading light, various weapons glinting in their hands—pipes, knives, and chains dangling loosely at their sides.
In this moment he began to smile, both excited and surprised.
’Haha, this is just too good to be true.’
For one, he had never thought he would be acknowledged even once in his entire life. And for two, he had always envisioned the day he would be acknowledged.
Seeing everything going on, the thought flickered through his mind.
’Don’t tell me... am I finally going to be transmigr---’
CRRRRRACCCCCCKKKK!!!
Before the thought could fully form, the sky tore open with a thunderous sound as if someone ripped it apart with their hands.
And in that moment.....
BOOOOOOOMMMMMMM!!!!!
Trucks plummeted like apocalyptic hail—massive, rusted hulks twisting through the air with shriekin horns.
The first semi slammed down, flattening the Russian-looking leader into a gruesome pulp with a wet crunch of bone and metal.
"What the fu—?!" one thug screamed, eyes bulging in terror as another truck landed nearby, sending chains and pipes flying.
"Run, boss is—!"
A third vehicle landed down in a spray of dirt and blood, tires screeching mid-air before impact.
Seeing all of this happening suddenly, Akasha stood rooted, smile widening in manic delight as a colossal rig hurtled straight toward him, shadow swallowing everything.
KKKAAABOOOOOM!!!!!
The final sound was like music to his ears—metal crunching, glass shattering, and a burst of darkness wiping away the world around him, while the last of the thugs’ panicked curses faded into chaos and then silence.
Darkness swallowed him completely.... though it was strangely calming almost as if he was a child in his mother’s womb.
----
For a while, Akasha drifted through what felt like endless eons, surrounded by nothingness.
It wasn’t at all what he had expected—no God, no Devil, no grand supreme being stood before him—only the weightless expanse of the void and the slow, ever-shifting currents that swirled around him.
That was, until a warm, sweet feminine voice suddenly echoed deep within his mind.
[Hello, Love.]
Akasha floated in the suffocating black, watching in silence for a moment. After spending so long in endless darkness, the first thing he heard was someone calling him "love"?
"Seriously, what the hell is going on and what the hell is up with your voice?" Akasha said, his dirt-streaked white hair drifting in the ethereal currents.
"And.... Love?"
DING!
[Yes...Love, you are my love after all.]
The sweet voice paused for a moment, its rich, honeyed tone vibrating with playful warmth that made the nearby void pulse in soft rhythm.
[And... what’s wrong with my voice?]
"You know what? Just forget I asked, what’s going on here?" He asked,
"What are you, some type of system?" He tilted his head, fingers absently brushing through his hair as the panel’s light cast fleeting highlights across his face.
[Love, you have just finished your final trial before birth.]
DING!
[And no, I am not a system, I am a spirit connected to your very existence.]
"First, stop making that dinging sound every time you talk, it’s really unnecessary," he said, already annoyed by the noise.
"Second, what do you mean by my birth? Didn’t I just die?"
He paused, reaching for a chin that no longer existed.
’Wait... I’ve died... Earth is gone, and clearly, I’m being transmigrated or something,’ he thought, before speaking again.
"You know what... I don’t care about the backstory. I’m sure it’ll come up eventually." He wasn’t interested in an info dump—he wanted to dive straight into the good part of transmigration.
’Haha, let’s hope my shitty luck has passed over.’ He thought briefly again before speaking.
"Let’s just get straight to it... What kind of cheats will I have?"
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