'Ugh, my head… feels like it's splitting apart.'
Alden winced, pressing a trembling hand against his forehead.
Now, he was experiencing a terrible headache he had never felt before in his life.
"I need more sleep," he muttered hoarsely, struggling to open his heavy eyelids.
Even the simplest movements—like opening his eyes—felt like an impossible task.
What the heck? He was also feeling pain all over. His body felt as though it were being pierced by a thousand needles, every inch of his skin screaming in pain.
"Look! He is finally waking up."
"Hehe, the weakling's been unconscious for close to an hour."
Surprisingly, he could hear different voices, which was strange.
He couldn't remember letting anyone into his house... and it was impossible for anyone to enter without his permission. As far as he could recall, he hadn't told anyone his security password since he bought the place a year ago. So how?
It was confusing—he couldn't come to a conclusion. In fact, the more he thought about it, the worse his headache became.
'Who are those...?' His mind was clouded with this thought as he blinked against the blinding sunlight, trying to open his eyes.
Finally, his vision cleared, and his heart skipped a beat.
Looking around, he was confused, struggling to understand what was going on.
What was happening?
Where was he?
His surroundings were nothing like he expected—a blue sky above him when he was supposed to be inside his mansion.
But that wasn't even what shocked him or, rather... worried him the most.
Staring around, he saw different faces looking down on him. It was then he realized he was lying on the ground with dirt covering his body.
Who are these people? How did he get here? The thoughts hit him suddenly, surreal and urgent, begging for answers.
He frowned, trying to remember.
His last memory was sitting at his desk, typing furiously to strengthen his system, the glow of his screen casting eerie shadows in the dark room. Exhaustion had clawed at his body, pulling him closer to the edge of sleep...
Wait!
And then he remembered. His blood ran cold as he recalled the last moment he felt a sharp seizure in his heart.
Alden's mind raced, searching for answers. Then, like a bolt of lightning, a terrifying thought struck him.
'No… This can't be real.'
'I transmigrated into that trashy novel?!'
His mind reeled as the thought struck him, his face paling as memories came flooding back.
He tried to push the thought away. It must be a dream. But he couldn't deceive himself, right? This was too real to be a dream.
He had read countless stories of transmigration and reincarnation. That's how it always was. But living in it? That was a nightmare he never wanted.
No way, this was insane.
He could've denied it, but his surroundings left no room for doubt. Everything—the scene, the atmosphere—matched perfectly.
His heart pounded as his gaze swept over the place, dread creeping into his chest. He remembered this place now.
It was Chapter 14, the last update from the so-called author of the novel.
The realization slammed into him like a hammer. It wasn't just any scene from the novel. It was the scene... the one where Sammy, the protagonist, developed a heart demon that began to affect his mentality, making him doubt and look down on himself.
Too bad that was the last chapter, leaving it unknown how the main character dealt with the situation. The story was complicated and hard to follow.
The details flooded back. Sammy, plagued by one setback after another. His talent had never awakened. His childhood sweetheart had betrayed him, leaving him for a powerful rival. Even his twin brother had turned his back on him.
Why this story? Why me?
His heart sank further.
He looked up with a deep sigh and whispered, "I'd rather be a random side character than this useless protagonist."
Sammy had been powerless. Useless. And in the end, he had given up, earning him the title of the story's greatest failure.
"Arghhh!"
Just as he was lost in thought, a sudden kick to his stomach made him groan in pain.
It was then he realized again that people were gathered around him.
"Welcome back to the land of the living, Grandmaster Weakling!"
"Did anyone notice he was mumbling to himself?"
"Looks like Ranno knocked the last bit of sense out of him," the mocking voice of a boy came from the back, triggering laughter from the crowd.
Alden groaned, clutching his stomach. The pain radiated through his entire body, leaving him gasping for air.
He tilted his head slightly to see the source of the voice, which was a tall, muscular boy with a sneer on his face. His short black hair and sharp features made him look even more like a bad boy. This must be Ranno.
Ranno stepped closer. "What's the matter, Sammy? Did the dirt finally feel like your bed, or are you just too weak to move?"
Alden didn't respond, his mind still racing to piece together what was happening.
"Let me make this clear," Ranno said, crouching down so their faces were level. "Spar with me, or I'll keep pounding you into the dirt. Your choice, Grandmaster Weakling."
The crowd cheered as Ranno stood up, crossing his arms. "Come on, 'Grandmaster.' Show us what you've got! Or are you just going to sit there in the dirt?"
Another added, "He's so bad at fighting he might just pass out before the spar starts!"
Alden gritted his teeth as he planted his palms on the ground, pushing against the sharp ache that flared in his arms. Every muscle screamed in protest, and his legs trembled as if they might give out any second.
He knew the type of person Ranno was; he wouldn't let him walk away without humiliation or worse.
The only way was to fight back, though he risked more injuries with his current weak body. Refuse, and Ranno would likely keep his word, beating him until he gave in.
Slowly getting to his feet, he took a deep, shaky breath. 'I need to figure out how to survive this.'
"Watch out, grandmaster! A gust of wind might send you flying!" someone yelled from the crowd.
"Fine," Alden muttered, brushing off some dirt. "Let's get this over with."
The crowd erupted into a mix of reactions. Some roared with laughter, clutching their sides while others leaned forward with eager eyes, enjoying the show.
A few stood quietly at the back, their faces blank, as if unsure whether to feel sorry for him or join in the mockery. To them, it was as if they'd just heard the funniest, most ridiculous joke ever.
Alden raised his fists—or, better to describe it, flailed them in what he assumed was a fighting stance. Somewhere deep in his mind, he knew he had never thrown a punch in real life.
"Finally decided to grow a backbone, huh?" Ranno mocked, cracking his knuckles. "Let's see if you can last more than a second against me."
THUD!!!
A punch to his face sent him into the dirt again. He couldn't even see how Ranno got to him, let alone the punch.
Just as Ranno was ready to pounce on him to deliver another blow, a commanding voice rang out.
"Stop that!" "What is wrong with you guys?"
The crowd fell silent, heads turning as one toward the figure approaching from the distance.
It was none other than one of the city guards.