Chapter 2: Transmigration to the Frozen Continent
Bhoumik floated in the darkness, utterly paralyzed by the presence of the massive eye looming before him. The divine yet demonic gaze of the eye pierced through his soul, as if it were laying bare every secret he held within. There was something familiar, something ancient about it, and suddenly it dawned on him.
"Mahadev?" Bhoumik's voice quivered as he spoke the name. His heart pounded in his chest, and a rush of emotions overwhelmed him—reverence, awe, and fear. He had always believed in the power of Lord Shiva, the cosmic destroyer and creator. But to be standing before an embodiment of such power? His mind struggled to comprehend what was happening.
He called out again, louder this time. "Mahadev!"
But there was no response.
The eye remained fixed on him, its silence more terrifying than any word could have been. Suddenly, without any warning, the darkness around him shifted. The air thickened, charged with an intense energy that made Bhoumik's skin crawl. Out of the black void, a massive drop of blood appeared, slowly descending toward him. The drop was enormous, easily the size of his entire body, and it pulsed with an eerie, crimson glow.
Bhoumik stared, wide-eyed. "What is this?" he whispered, his heart racing. The drop of blood hovered in the air for a moment, suspended in time, and then it lunged toward him, engulfing his entire being.
"NO!" Bhoumik screamed as the blood began to merge with his body. The sensation was unbearable. Pain shot through him, searing his flesh, as if his very bones and skin were being torn apart and stitched back together at the same time. It was as if every cell in his body was being shattered and reformed, molded into something new—something beyond human.
The agony was unlike anything he had ever felt before. His muscles convulsed, his bones cracked, and his veins burned with molten fire. He wanted to claw at his skin, to rip himself free from the torment, but his limbs wouldn't move. He was helpless, trapped in this excruciating transformation.
" Please… stop!" Bhoumik's voice was barely a whisper, strangled by the unbearable pain. His vision blurred as darkness crept in at the edges of his sight. Just when he thought he couldn't endure another moment, his body gave in, and the world around him faded into unconsciousness.
Bhoumik lay unconscious, floating in the infinite void, his body limp and weightless. But even in this state, he was not alone. The divine eye continued to watch him, unblinking, as though observing the aftermath of what had just taken place.
Suddenly, a massive hand of pure spiritual energy emerged from the void. It reached out, lifting Bhoumik's unconscious body with a gentleness that contrasted the power it held. The hand was colossal, shimmering with the light of countless stars, and it cradled Bhoumik as if he were nothing more than a child.
A deep, booming voice filled the void—a voice so full of domination that it echoed through the endless darkness. It was a voice that demanded respect, one that could make mountains tremble and oceans part with a mere whisper.
"Go… this is your destiny. You wanted power, and now you shall have it. Grow strong, and one day, you will stand before me again. Only then will you be worthy, child."
The words reverberated through Bhoumik's unconscious mind, their meaning seeping into his very soul. This was not just a warning—it was a command, an unshakable decree. He had been chosen for something far greater than he could have ever imagined.
As the voice faded, a symbol began to burn itself into Bhoumik's forehead—a trident, the mark of Lord Shiva himself. It glowed with divine energy, pulsating with a power that was ancient and beyond comprehension.
The spiritual hand slowly lowered Bhoumik, and another portal—this one swirling with the colors of space and time—opened beneath him. Without hesitation, the hand released him, and Bhoumik's body fell through the portal, vanishing from the void entirely.
When Bhoumik awoke, the first thing he noticed was the biting cold. His entire body shivered as the freezing wind whipped across his skin. His eyelids fluttered open, and he found himself lying in a vast, snow-covered landscape. The sky above was a dull, icy gray, and the air smelled of frost and isolation.
"Where... am I?" Bhoumik muttered, his breath visible in the cold air. He forced himself to sit up, and immediately, something felt off. His body was different—lighter, smaller.
Frantically, Bhoumik examined himself. His hands, his arms, his legs—everything was the same, yet different. His height had changed. He was no longer 5'10 but significantly shorter, his limbs more youthful. He felt like a younger version of himself, perhaps no older than 14 or 15 years old.
"What happened to me?" he gasped, touching his face, his chest, and his arms in disbelief. "Why… why do I look like this?"
Memories of the eye, the blood, and the spiritual hand flashed through his mind, but none of it made sense. The last thing he remembered was the searing pain of his transformation, and now he was here—in a strange, frozen world that was nothing like Earth.
Slowly, Bhoumik stood up and surveyed his surroundings. The landscape stretched out endlessly in all directions, a vast expanse of snow and ice. Jagged mountains rose in the distance, their peaks shrouded in mist. The place was eerily quiet, devoid of any life.
"Am I... in another world?" Bhoumik whispered to himself, trying to piece together what had happened. The idea seemed absurd, but given everything he had just experienced, it wasn't impossible. The portal, the divine eye, the blood—they were all signs of something far greater than mere imagination.
As he trudged through the snow, the realization hit him. "I've been transmigrated… just like in the cultivation novels." His heart raced with a mixture of excitement and anxiety. He had read countless stories about characters being sent to other worlds, gaining unimaginable power and facing insurmountable challenges. But to experience it firsthand? This was something else entirely.
A sudden rush of cold wind forced Bhoumik to pull his cloak tighter around him. "First things first," he muttered. "I need to figure out where I am."
As he walked, Bhoumik's thoughts began to clear. He was in a world where cultivation reigned supreme. He could feel it in the air—the energy, the power. It was different from Earth, more vibrant, more alive.
But where had he landed? The vast, icy landscape gave little indication. Snow covered everything, and the biting cold was relentless. The air was filled with a strange, spiritual energy, unlike anything Bhoumik had ever encountered. It seemed to pulse through the atmosphere, alive and dangerous.His eyes caught sight of a distant mountain range to the north, where the snow and ice seemed to swirl unnaturally. He had no idea what lay ahead, but he knew one thing: this world was not like Earth.
The frozen continent, as Bhoumik would soon learn, was one of the six major continents of this vast cultivation world. Known as the Frozen Continent, it was the second-largest continent, but also the most isolated. Few ventured into its treacherous territories due to the extreme cold and dangerous spiritual beasts that roamed the icy plains.
It was a place where only the strongest survived, and those who dared to enter often met with an untimely death.The cultivation system in this world was built on a hierarchy of realms, each with nine sub-levels. From the Master Realm to the Heaven Emperor Realm, cultivators ascended through these stages, gaining unimaginable power as they progressed.
However, Bhoumik was still unaware of the full scope of this world's complexity."If I want to survive here, I need to understand this world's rules," he thought, shivering slightly in the cold.
Suddenly, a faint tremor ran through the ground beneath him. His sharp instincts kicked in as he scanned the surroundings, trying to locate the source of the disturbance. A low growl echoed in the distance, and Bhoumik's breath hitched."I need to move."