Chapter 1: The Pull
Jingyu Wang had always considered his life ordinary—college, exams, quiet nights scrolling through his favorite novels. That all ended in a moment of impossible chaos.
He remembered a flash of light, a tearing sensation in his chest, and the world collapsing into darkness. Something had taken him. Something he could not see or name. He fought, clawed, screamed—but there was no resistance. The air itself seemed alive, gripping him, twisting him, pulling him into an unknown reality.
When he opened his eyes again, the world was silent. Cold. And he was no longer Jingyu Wang.
A mirror in the dimly lit room reflected a face he did not know. Black hair, pale skin, sharp cheekbones—and most disturbing of all, a dark, intricate sigil etched into the side of his neck. His body felt… wrong. Alien, yet familiar.
A single thought burned in his mind: I am not myself anymore
Before him, on a wooden desk dusted with ash and old candle wax, lay an ancient tome: The Book of Realms. Its cover shimmered faintly under the light of a dying candle, as if it were breathing. Compelled by some force he did not understand, Jingyu—now Nirva Meltein—opened the book.
The pages were alive with words he didn't know he could read, diagrams of realms, sigils of power, and most horrifying of all—a single entry written in a trembling, desperate hand:
"I, Nirva Meltein, see no escape. My life ends here."
And then a description.
A dagger, crimson-tipped. A slit across the throat. A mirror shattered in blood.
Jingyu froze. The words screamed at him. Nirva had committed suicide. He—he now was Nirva. The weight of that reality slammed into him like a tidal wave.
How could this have happened? Why him? And what force had dragged him into the body of a boy who had chosen death over life?
As he read on, the Book of Realms seemed to breathe around him, the pages whispering secrets meant only for Nirva. The boy he had become had left traces—memories of despair, of torment, of enemies too cruel to face alone. Jingyu could feel them like shadows pressing on his mind.
The mirror across the room reflected his new reality: the pallor of a body that had known death, the hollow eyes of someone who had given up. And yet, he was alive. That in itself was a contradiction the universe seemed to mock him with.
"This isn't my life," he whispered, but the words sounded alien in his own mouth.
A surge of energy flared from the sigil on his neck. Pain, warmth, and awakening all at once. Nirva's body had been marked by forces he could not comprehend. The Book of Realms had unlocked not only knowledge but power—dark, raw, dangerous power that responded to his fear, his anger, his will to survive.
The world outside his room was quiet, but alive with movement invisible to mortal eyes. Shadows curled along the edges of the forest, creatures of other realms drawn to the despair that had once ruled Nirva's life.
Jingyu instinctively raised his hands, and crimson energy erupted from the sigil on his neck. The power was instinctual, unrefined, but terrifyingly effective. He could feel the bloodlines, the legacy, the curse flowing through him.
He realized something: Nirva had chosen death because he could not control the forces surrounding him. But Jingyu… maybe Jingyu could.
The Book of Realms spoke to him again, not in words but in visions: enemies waiting in shadows, allies trapped in distant realms, and a single truth—he was not meant to live as Nirva simply to survive. But to uncover the truth behind the mysteries of this world and the reason behind Nirva's death.