Pain.
That was the first thing I felt—sharp, burning, crawling under my skin like a colony of fire ants. My eyelids twitched as I tried to pry them open. They felt heavy. Swollen. Every breath scraped down my throat like someone had lined my lungs with sandpaper.
Shapes blurred in my vision, wobbling as if the world itself was tilted.
My cheek was pressed against cold stone—damp, sticky. Blood? Sweat?
Probably both.
I groaned and tried to push myself up, but my arm trembled violently and collapsed under my weight.
Great start.
And then the pain wasn't alone anymore.
Memories hit me—hard, fast—like someone uncorked a lifetime and poured it straight into my skull in one violent flood.
Hi. It's me. Arshen.
Or… whatever version of Arshen I was supposed to be now.
My lips twitched into a dry, humorless smile.
Imagine having a rank.
Not a school ranking. Not a guild ranking.
A universal rank—across four-thousand damn worlds.
And what rank did this guy's world have?
3,920.
Almost dead last.
Bottom-tier trash.
"How the hell…" I whispered, the words dying halfway as another surge of memories forced themselves in. I winced and grabbed my head, almost expecting it to split open.
That's when I understood.
These weren't my memories.
They belonged to the original Arshen—the one who owned this body before I crashed into it.
This guy…
He had awakened Void Manipulation.
My eyes widened despite the pulsing ache behind them.
Even on Earth, void powers were the broken stuff of overpowered novels—tearing reality, erasing magic, swallowing light.
And yet this guy awakened it…
And still died like some faceless extra.
Pathetic.
A bitter laugh rattled out of me but turned into a cough halfway.
I forced myself upright, leaning on a cracked wall for support. My vision steadied enough for me to take in my surroundings.
A narrow alley.
Shadows stretched long across broken crates and piles of damp trash.
The air smelled of rot, iron, and rain-soaked stone.
Far away, the city hummed—vendors shouting, carriages clattering.
But here?
Silence.
Heavy, suffocating silence.
Memir City.
I recognized it through Arshen's memories.
The world: Eryon.
I looked down at my wrists—bruised, chafed, and stamped with a faint, half-faded slave brand.
A cold shiver slipped down my spine.
"…A slave," I muttered.
Fantastic.
If reincarnation was a lottery, I had drawn the worst ticket.
Not even a commoner.
A slave belonging to a Duke's household.
Flashes spiraled through my mind—panicked, broken fragments of the original Arshen's life.
Dark corridors.
Cold gazes.
Orders snapped like whips.
Whispers of escape from other slaves late at night.
They ran.
They fled.
And before leaving, they beat Arshen within an inch of his life to make him the scapegoat.
My jaw clenched.
I could feel the echo of his fear—his confusion—his helplessness.
"Bastards," I breathed, fingers curling weakly.
A metallic clang echoed from the alley entrance.
I froze.
Footsteps.
Armored.
Rhythmic.
Getting closer.
The soldiers.
Arshen's memories told me exactly what happened if they found me here.
Dragged back.
Beaten again.
Punished.
Maybe executed.
My heartbeat spiked, thudding like a fist against my ribs.
Then—
Something inside me stirred.
A cold tingle crawled up my spine.
The air felt thin—fragile—like I could reach out and tear it open.
Void.
My breathing steadied.
A smirk tugged at the corner of my lips despite the pain.
"Why am I scared?" I whispered.
I wasn't the old Arshen.
I wasn't helpless.
I had Void Manipulation.
I just had to figure out how not to kill myself while using it.
The clanking grew louder.
Metal boots scraped stone; spears tapped rhythmically as the soldiers entered the alley. Their torches cast jagged shadows across the walls.
"Halt!"
A deep, trained voice barked.
"You slaves think you can run? Try to escape again and we'll execute you on the spot!"
Execution.
Perfect.
As if today wasn't already a disaster.
I groaned internally.
At least let me breathe… I haven't even tested the damn superpower yet…
My chest tightened. Panic tried to claw its way up my throat.
I forced my eyes shut and sifted through every memory—mine and the original Arshen's—searching for something usable.
Void Manipulation.
In Earth novels, there were thousands of void abilities—reality cutting, teleportation, dimensional swallowing…
Way too many ways to accidentally explode myself.
So I went for the simplest.
Void Slash.
Basic.
Beginner.
Probably won't kill me.
Hopefully.
My hand shook as I raised it.
The air distorted around my fingers, bending unnaturally.
"…Slash," I whispered.
The world cracked.
A thin black fissure ripped through the air, racing forward—
—and completely missed the soldiers.
Instead, it carved straight through the side of a building, slicing stone like soft bread.
The entire wall gave way with a deafening crash, dust exploding outward.
I blinked once.
…Okay. Not so baby-tier.
The soldiers reacted instantly.
"Attack!"
The leader charged first, his armor glowing with some basic combat enhancement. His speed wasn't normal—he was mid-tier at least.
Panic jolted through me.
Another memory.
Another ability.
Blink.
Short-distance teleport.
Drains stamina like crazy.
I gritted my teeth.
"Blink!"
My body dissolved—
a wisp of black mist—
then snap—I rematerialized a few meters away.
Barely avoiding the leader's swing.
My knees buckled.
Dizziness washed over me in violent waves.
Shit… this drains so much more than I thought…
The leader spun toward me, fury etched into his features.
I had one more shot.
I steadied my shaking arm.
"Slash!"
Another black tear shot forward—
I think it hit him—
His armor sparked—
Or maybe that was my vision failing—
And then everything shattered into darkness.
I collapsed.
My head hit cold stone.
The last thing I heard was a soldier shouting—
"Sir! He's still breathing!"
Then nothing.