Mark didn't know how long he had been drifting—only that, at some point, he felt like he was floating toward the end of a long, dark tunnel. And at the very end… there was light.
His eyes fluttered open, only to be assaulted by the brightness of daylight pouring into the room.
"Ugh…"
He groaned, raising a hand to shield his face as his vision adjusted. But just as he was about to sit up, a sudden hollow sensation gripped his chest—a strange emptiness, like the last breath before death.
'What the hell…?'
Before he could even react, another wave hit him—this time, a sharp, blinding pain in his head. His hands shot up to clutch his skull as his mind was flooded with foreign memories. Not dreams. Not images.
Memories. That weren't his.
It was like watching a movie in first-person, except he was trapped in the third-person seat, forced to experience it all as an observer in someone else's life.
He saw a baby being born.
Parents dying too early.
A boy growing up under the care of an older brother—who was now married—and living with them in a modest home.
He saw the fields they worked, the dirt roads they walked, the quiet village of no more than 300 people nestled far from the nearest town. A peaceful yet painfully mundane life.
But then, the extraordinary began to bleed into the ordinary.
Magic.
Knights.
Wizards.
A world where magic truly existed, where knights served nobles and sometimes earned their own lands through merit. Wizards descended from their floating towers every ten years to search for children with "potential."
He saw the memory-owner's awe when he first glimpsed a real Wizard. He remembered the excitement of watching knights patrol the city streets, the guards at the gates, the adventurers at the taverns.
And then came the darker scenes.
Slavery. Even in small towns.
Mark watched with disgust as human lives were bought and sold like cattle—ten silver coins for a human being. A thousand copper coins. An amount that would take months, if not years, for a mere farmer to earn.
This world was beautiful, yes—but it was also cruel.
Then something shifted again.
Awakening. That was what they called it here. Between the ages of eleven and eighteen, everyone awakened their "Trait." A unique power, different for each person.
The body Mark now inhabited had awakened one too.
Debuff Transfer.
A power both useful and terrifying. He could take someone else's negative status effects—poison, curses, sickness, Injuries—and absorb them into himself.
But they wouldn't disappear. He would suffer them instead.
And if he was already afflicted? He could pass those onto others.
It was a dangerous trait. One that could be seen as a blessing or a threat depending on who knew about it.
So the boy hid it.
Lived quietly.
Worked the fields.
And then one day… he slept.
And never woke up.
That's when the final wave hit.
A completely different stream of information entered Mark's mind—not memories, but knowledge. His knowledge. From this world.
A second trait.
Instant Regeneration.
Unlike Debuff Transfer, this one was his alone.
A personal Trait. One that belonged solely to him—the moment his soul entered this world, it awakened.
With it, he could restore his body to peak condition—again and again. No cost. No cooldown. No mana. No stamina. Just… regeneration.
A perfect counterbalance to Debuff Transfer.
Take the pain. Heal it away. Repeat.
Finally, the flood ended.
Mark's body fell still.
His breath evened out.
The original soul was gone—his journey ended.
And in his place, Mark Cain now opened his eyes.
Mark took a deep breath as he stared up at the thatched ceiling overhead. The flood of memories slowly faded, slipping into the corners of his mind like the remnants of a long, vivid dream.
As silence returned to his thoughts, his senses began to awaken to the world around him.
The soft chirping of songbirds.
The raspy cawing of crows in the distance.
The distinct cry of a rooster calling the village to rise.
It was morning. A new day.
He turned his gaze toward the window, where golden sunlight spilled lazily into the room, lighting up the dust in the air like specks of glitter. It felt... surreal. Too calm for what had just happened.
Mark inhaled deeply, the rustic scent of fresh morning dew and straw filling his lungs.
"Haah… feels weird," he muttered to himself.
He let his eyes close again, and only then did he truly notice it—the feebleness in his limbs, the hollowness clinging to his chest. His body felt fragile, like he was a single hit point away from dying again.
'Instant Regen.'
The moment he thought the words, something ignited within him.
A warmth.
It started in his toes, like the soft bubbling of hot spring water, slowly rising and spreading through his legs, crawling up his spine, across his chest, seeping into his fingers, his arms, his neck, until even the roots of his hair tingled with it.
It was pure, flowing vitality.
Like a divine balm had been poured through his veins, repairing every cell, restoring every nerve, and filling the emptiness in his chest with a strange, radiant fullness.
There was no longer pain.
No fatigue.
No sense of hollowness.
Just peace—and pleasure. Not the carnal kind, but a deep, soul-soothing pleasure that made him want to stay like this forever.
His eyes opened slowly, clearer now than ever.
He exhaled with a small, satisfied smile and whispered, "Now that's the kind of refreshing feeling I always wanted to experience…"