The sterile scent of antiseptic hung in the air, sharp and invasive. It failed to mask the metallic tang of fear that clung to every breath.
Jonathan Sterling's heart raced, a frantic drumbeat against the heavy weight of silence. The doctors exchanged solemn looks, their murmured words—"terminal," "days left"—clawing at his sanity.
He squeezed his eyes shut, the plush hospital bed suddenly feeling like a cold, unforgiving steel gurney.
Just a few days ago, he had stood at the pinnacle of the world. Jonathan Sterling, the youngest billionaire to grace the cover of Forbes.
His empire was his legacy, built from nothing but ambition and an unyielding desire to win. Family? Friends? Love? Those were luxuries he had no time for, mere distractions from his relentless pursuit of success.
And he had succeeded.
But now, what good was all that wealth and power when his own body had betrayed him? Cancer, the silent predator, had been gnawing at his insides while he was too busy chasing fleeting victories to notice.
Here he was, staring down the end of his story. His billions were powerless against the grim finality of death.
A bitter laugh escaped his lips, hollow and dry. "Ironic," he muttered to himself. The man who had conquered the world couldn't conquer his own mortality.
With nothing but time and regret as his companions, he turned to the only escape within reach—a novel he'd picked up on a whim.
It was a silly story about a magical academy filled with noble heirs and destined heroes. Among them was a minor villain who met an untimely and rather pitiful end in the first arc. Jonathan scoffed as he flipped through its pages.
At least in that world, someone cared enough to write about the villain's demise.
As he read, he found himself lost in its vivid descriptions. The clash of spells, the rivalries and friendships, the grandeur of a world alive with magic—it all painted a picture so vibrant, so different from the sterile confines of his hospital room.
The heart monitor beside him slowed, its beeps growing further apart. The intervals stretched into what felt like eternities before there was nothing. Silence.
And then…
A jolt.
Jonathan gasped, his eyes flying open to a burst of color. Sunlight streamed through intricate stained-glass windows, casting shimmering patterns across a room that was both unfamiliar and strangely familiar.
He tried to sit up, but his body felt wrong—smaller, weaker. Panic tightened his throat as he scanned his surroundings.
Where was he?
He had never seen this room before, but why did it seem so familiar? More importantly, how was he still alive?
He rubbed his face with his hands, but they stopped him short. His hands were smaller than usual.
Suddenly, words appeared before his eyes, floating in the air like a hologram:
[You are blessed by destiny.]
[You have gained access to the system.]
A system? Like those RPG games or novels?
The words continued, ignoring his growing confusion:
[Loading… 1%... 25%... 75%... 100%.]
[Accessing memories of the previous owner.]
A surge of foreign memories overwhelmed him, flooding his mind with images and emotions. He saw the boy whose body he now inhabited.
The boy's name was Lucian Eryndral, the third son of the prestigious Eryndral family.
The system chimed again:
[System activated.]
[Objective: Conquer the Ascension Tower.]
Jonathan blinked. "Conquer? What tower?"
As if responding to his question, new text appeared:
[The Ascension Tower is a realm of trials and growth. Each floor represents a new challenge, a step closer to true power. Only those who reach the top can claim the mantle of destiny.]
Destiny? Growth? Power? Jonathan stared at the floating words, his mind racing. Why was he here?
Then he recalled it—the surname "Eryndral" was from the very novel he had read.
His eyes caught sight of a mirror across the room.
The reflection wasn't his. It was the face of someone else. Red eyes, black hair, and a frail body. Yet, he—or rather, Lucian—was undeniably handsome.
He searched his newly accessed memories. The reason for Lucian's frailty surfaced quickly.
A rare mana disease.
This disease caused a person's mana core to fracture, leading to a slow and painless death. There was no cure.
Lucian had been too afraid to reveal his condition to his family. He feared that in their desperation to find a cure, they might do something far worse.
So, he had run away, leaving a note behind claiming he wanted to explore the world.
Jonathan—or Lucian, now—took a deep breath.
"I've transmigrated," he murmured, his voice barely audible.
The mirror caught his eye again, reflecting the face of his new reality.
This was no longer Lucian's life. It was his.
"Blessed by destiny, huh?" Jonathan muttered, his lips curling into a humorless smile.
He had built an empire from nothing once. He had clawed his way to the top through sheer determination and willpower.
Now, he would do it again.
Lucian Eryndral might have been naive, but Jonathan Sterling was not.
"This is my second chance," he whispered, the flicker of determination in his chest growing into a roaring flame.
He rose from the bed, his legs shaky but steadying with each step.
The system floated silently, waiting for his next move.
"System," Lucian called out, the words sounding strange in his new body.