Chapter 1: Transmigration

Human beings are strange creatures. Once the brain has accepted something as an absolute truth, it never considers the possibility that a bizarre, abnormal phenomenon might one day happen to itself.

Rayne Lyle was human too, and he believed in science, believed in the advancement of the modern world. Yet no matter how many times he ran through the logic, he still couldn’t have foreseen this: with just a blink, the blooming sea of flowers before him vanished, replaced by a pure-white ceiling. Spatial displacement, something that should have been utterly impossible, had suddenly become his reality, leaving him dazed and disoriented.

It took him a full three seconds to regain clarity. The crystal chandelier above his head, blurred by his unfocused vision, gradually came into sharp view. The unfamiliar surroundings instantly put him on alert. His first reaction was to survey the room cautiously, only after confirming that no one else was present did he slowly sit up.

Rayne was sitting on a large bed at the center of the room. All around him were meticulously crafted furnishings in luxurious cream-beige tones. After assuring himself there was no immediate danger, he swung his legs off the bed, intending to examine the room more thoroughly.

But the moment his foot touched the carpet, a metallic scent of blood hit him sharply. Rayne frowned and looked down, discovering that the white shirt he was wearing was soaked through with dark red. The smell was coming from him. Over his heart area, the fabric was ripped open a small bullet-sized hole. Chaotic fragments of memory surged up, making his vision swim.

He sat back down on the bed, forcing himself to piece together the flashes in his mind. Just minutes ago, he had been at home, casually admiring the flower field outside his balcony while savoring a cup of hot, fragrant coffee. Then, within his field of vision, he noticed a streak of light rushing toward him. His instincts told him to dodge, but the streak, no, the bullet was too fast. He couldn’t evade. The fatal shot pierced directly through his left chest, precisely where the heart lay.

There was no chance he could’ve survived. He remembered his body collapsing, uncontrollable, the sky overhead dimming as scattered clouds blurred from his sight the moment he closed his eyes for what should’ve been the last time.

But after he “died,” he hadn’t truly died. In that hazy in-between state, he felt an invisible force pulling him away. The world around him was pitch-black, he could perceive nothing,not sound, not touch, not light.

And then, when he opened his eyes again… he was here.

Rayne placed a hand over his left chest. There was no pain. The skin was smooth, untouched, almost as if everything he remembered had been a strange dream. But if it was just a dream… then where did all this blood come from? And what was this place?

A torrent of questions crowded his mind, but no matter how he searched, he couldn’t find a single clue.

“Waaa! You’re awake!!!”

A childish, ringing voice suddenly burst through the silence. Rayne tensed instantly: “Who’s there?”

As soon as he spoke, a blinding flash exploded in the room. He shielded his eyes on instinct. When he opened them again, a tiny child, no bigger than a grown man’s palm, was floating midair before him. The little creature blinked large, amber-gemstone eyes and circled him, its twin braids swaying as it moved.

A housekeeping system? Rayne wondered. He lived in one of the most technologically advanced nations in the world; it was common for households to use projection-based assistant systems. They came in various forms, many designed to look like adorable children, especially in homes with actual kids.

Operating under that assumption, he reached out to touch the floating figure, and his hand passed straight through. A projection indeed. Confirming that it posed no physical threat, Rayne finally asked: “Who are you?”

“If you truly wish to know, then I shall bestow my blessing upon you with an answer!”

The tiny figure lifted its chin proudly, eyes half-squinted as if looking down on him.

“I am the Deity!”

Rayne didn’t react, clearly refusing to take that as a serious response. He stared the child down and repeated: “Who are you?”

The child’s smug expression faltered, but it stubbornly answered the same thing: “I am the Deity!”

Looking slightly wronged, it floated closer, pointing at the bullet tear in Rayne’s blood-soaked shirt as it explained,

“Look here! You were shot, right? You know that! I was the one who saved you! It took a long time to heal that wound, it used up so much energy!”

As it rambled, it waved its hands dramatically, summoning dozens of translucent panels full of scrolling data.

“And also, and also! I know everything about you, even your secrets! Look, look! These, and these! Check if they’re right!”

Rayne’s expression turned serious as he skimmed the information. A growing tension sharpened his gaze: “Where did you get this classified data?”

“I told you already, I’m the Deity!” The child cried, looking on the verge of tears: “The Deity knows everything!”

Rayne didn’t speak. He read the contents again.

Displayed on the screens were his personal files, not just private information, but confidential military records.

Rayne had once held a highly classified position. He previously served in the military, assigned to the Alliance Infantry Special Operations Corps, a top-tier combat unit of the Northeastern Continent. He had been the Deputy Commander of Special Unit Zone 6, and before that, the Commander of the Alliance Sniper Special Ops Unit, Special Zone 2. Although he had retired over a year ago, all Special Operations divisions were protected under national-level secrecy. Their files were locked behind the strictest barriers, aside from high-ranking military officials and operatives within the Alliance, no one could access them. Even within the units themselves, members used identification codes instead of names, meaning that personal identities remained concealed.

Yet the child before him had produced information that even fellow operatives would never know, details only Rayne himself possessed.

Under any normal circumstances, this should have been impossible.

But it made the child’s repeated claim “I am the Deity” far harder to dismiss.

Since the being didn’t appear hostile, and it had apparently saved his life, Rayne lowered his guard slightly and asked calmly: “Thank you for saving me… but I assume you want something in return?”

Nothing in this world, or beyond it, comes without a price. Any entity with the power to revive the dead certainly wouldn’t intervene out of boredom.

And Rayne’s guess was correct. The self-proclaimed Deity brightened instantly. No longer needing to prove anything, it beamed and pulled up another screen, one he hadn’t seen before.

“This! Look at this!”

Rayne leaned in. This time, the display wasn’t classified information. Instead, it was a familiar website, the global novel-hosting platform he often used. On the screen was a page showing the cover of a novel titled Apocalypse Chronicles.

At first, he didn’t understand. He looked at the Deity, then back at the elegant room around him.

An intuition struck him.

“This is… the world of the novel?”

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