When I opened my eyes, I wasn't in my room anymore.
No ceiling fan. No cluttered desk. No half-drunk soda bottle. Just a cold sky shining with orange mist, which seemed like a fairytale dreamland, then came the metallic scent of blood, the unpleasant dirt, and the sound of horses stomping on the ground like they were racing for their lives.
I blinked, confused. My arms were tied behind my back, the rope biting into my wrists. Around me, armored soldiers stood in a tight circle, each wearing light-colored silver armor like people used to wear in medieval times and some strange white runes etched on it. their gazes sharp and full of hatred. One of them spat near my feet like I was something rotting.
"What… the hell?" I whispered. What is happening to me? Am I kidnapped? or is this some sort of prank? All types of thoughts suddenly crossed through my mind. It felt like the worst headache I will ever have.
A dull pain throbbed in the back of my head. Something was wrong. Very, very wrong.
I looked down.
Robes. Not mine. My usual baggy hoodie and loose shorts were gone, replaced with a dark, tattered robe that seemed stained with ash and dirt. A sigil rested on my chest—two swords crossing beneath a broken crown.
And then, like a dam cracking open, the memories poured in.
"Lucien Elvar. Third son of House Elvar. Condemned by the Royal Court for attempted regicide and high treason."
"Stripped of all titles, lands, and name."
"Exiled to the borderlands, never to return."
It was a shock that I couldn't cope with so I fainted. After some time, when I woke up, a headache clung to me again. I started feeling nauseous as well and vomited blood and whatnot. Few hours passed by with the process in repeat: faint, headache, and vomit. I could not comprehend anything.
Finally, after some time, I was back in my senses. The headache dimmed a bit but it still followed me. I started analyzing my situation and sorted all those crumbled memories
It hit like a punch to the gut.
I wasn't Evan anymore.
Let's rewind.
Back on Earth, I was nobody special. Just Evan—nineteen, university student, mildly depressed, perpetually exhausted, and quietly obsessed with fantasy novels and turn-based RPGs. The kind of guy who stayed in the library for the free Wi-Fi and binged webnovels until 3 a.m. I had no tragic past. No epic drama. My life was just… average.
The last thing I remember from that world was sitting at my desk, trying to stay awake during an all-nighter. The fan was spinning above me, humming like a lullaby. I was rereading Sword of the Last Sovereign, one of my favorite fantasy stories. It was cliché as hell—overpowered hero, harem, a noble boy rising from the ashes to defeat evil.
But I liked it. It was safe. Predictable. Anyways, I was hella bored and passing my time just escaping from reality and these types of novels worked best for it. I remember snorting when I reached midway or maybe a bit ahead; I don't remember, as my memories are a bit muddy. I think it was chapter 9 or 8 when the so-called "villain," Lucien Elvar, showed up. He tried to poison the hero out of jealousy, got caught, and was publicly exiled. End of story.
Not even ten chapters, and the guy was already erased from the plot.
I laughed, thinking how pathetic that side character was.
And then—
Darkness.
My body slumped over the keyboard, breath stuck in my throat. No warning. No pain. Just the world fading to black.
Now I was here.
In this body.
In this world.
Lucien Elvar's world.
I staggered—not from the shove of a soldier, but from the weight of realization. It wasn't just that I had someone else's memories. It was like his life was fused with mine. I was Lucien now, but also still… Evan.
"I'm dreaming," I whispered, almost begging.
No one answered.
The wagon finally jerked to a stop. I was yanked down and shoved onto the dirt. The capital's gates loomed behind me—huge, ancient, and already closing. It was supposed to be a huge shock and humiliation for Lucien but I was so busy with my current predicament that I didn't give a second thought.
The Kingdom of Aldrath had cast me out.
Exiled.
Lucien's fate was sealed in the novel. From here on, he was never seen again.
A nobody. A footnote.
But I wasn't afraid of being forgotten.
I was afraid of dying.
The soldiers didn't even untie my hands. They dumped a small satchel in the dust and turned away without a word. One of them gave me a final glare, then spat again.
Then silence.
The gates slammed shut behind them with a thunderous echo.
Thunder rumbled in the distance. Cold wind swept across the hills. My breath misted in the air.
This was the Borderlands.
Unclaimed, untamed, and lawless.
In the novel, it was described as "a cursed land where even the monsters feared to tread."
Fantastic.
I dropped to my knees, panting. My hands throbbed from the rope, my fingers pale from lack of blood. My stomach churned. I was really hungry. I wanted to beat the shit out of guards but I knew I couldn't. They could slap me to death and there is nothing that I could do. Panic threatened to rise in my throat.
If, in case of transmigration, I wanted to transmigrate into a protagonist with overpowered cheats, but here I am.
No system tutorial. No glowing blue fairy to guide me. No narrator whispering tips into my ear.
Just pain. Cold. Hunger.
And silence.
The guard had already left after dropping me in the borderlands; perhaps he took pity on me or someone said to drop me in a safer area. But now I sat alone in Borderlands
I didn't cope well.
That first night, I cried.
Not the dramatic, tear-streaming kind. Just quiet sobs in the hollow of a tree I found for shelter. I curled up in the grass and whispered to myself.
"This isn't real."
But it was.
The hunger was real. The cold was real. The ache in my chest—real.
Every hour felt like a lifetime.
By the second night, I stopped pretending it was a dream.
By the third, I accepted I might never go home.
And after a week of surviving on mossy water and half-burnt rabbit meat, I made a decision.
Not a heroic one. Not the kind you'd expect from a transmigrator.
I decided I wasn't going to change the story.
No fighting fate.
No rising to become the main character.
No revenge or redemption.
My goal was simple:
Live. In peace. Quietly. Comfortably.
If that meant building a cabin in the woods, so be it.
If that meant avoiding the hero and staying ten miles from the plot, perfect.
I didn't need to become a king. I didn't need a throne.
All I needed was safety.
But the world had other plans.
On the eighth day, I found something strange in my pouch. I hadn't noticed it before—buried under the loaf of stale bread and cracked waterskin was a small pendant.
Oval-shaped. Rune-etched. Glowing faintly blue.
I touched it.
The world blinked.
[Fragment of Dominion recognized.]
[Executor Synchronization Initializing…]
I froze.
What?
[System interface unlocked.]
Welcome, Executor.]
A translucent panel appeared in front of me, hovering in the air like a game UI.
[Lucien Elvar—Executor Candidate]
Level: 1
HP: 60/60
Mana: 20/20
Status: Malnourished, Fatigued
Attributes:
Strength: 9
Intelligence: 12
Endurance: 8
Willpower: 14
Traits:
Tactician's Instinct (Passive): Grants bonus insight in high-pressure decisions.
Low Nobility's Curse (Passive): NPCs react 20% more negatively to you due to social stigma.
Skills:
Basic Survival (Lvl 1)
Analyze (Lvl 1): Observe creature or object for basic stats.
I stared at it, heart thumping.
This… wasn't in the novel.
Lucien didn't have a system. He had nothing. He died in obscurity.
So why did I get this?
Was it a glitch? A mistake?
Or… was this a second chance?
I laughed bitterly.
No. Not a second chance.
Just another complication.
The system didn't come with quests. No helpful tutorial. Just raw data. Like a barebones game interface that expected me to figure everything out.
But even that was better than nothing.
I spent the next few days hunting, crafting tools, and using Analyze on everything from rocks to rabbits. Every action gave me a few system messages.
[Basic Survival: 18% → 23%]
[Analyze: Level Up!]
It was slow. Lonely. Exhausting.
But I lived.
And that was enough.
A week later, I found ruins.
Crumbling stone walls half-buried in moss. A fallen tower. Mana shimmered faintly in the air.
As I stepped inside, another system prompt appeared.
[Dungeon Discovered: Temple of the First Flame]
Danger Level: Moderate
Recommended Level: 5
Would you like to enter?
I hesitated.
I wasn't ready.
I wasn't even willing.
But then again, I had no food left. No firewood. The last rabbit trap had been empty for days.
If there were supplies inside…
If I was careful…
I gritted my teeth.
"Just a peek," I muttered. "Then I leave."
The system prompt pulsed again.
Enter? [Y/N]
I tapped the glowing [Y].
The old door groaned open.
And just like that, I stepped into the unknown.