Darkness.

Cold. Damp. Heavy.

I can't breathe. My chest tightens, as if I'm trapped underwater. My limbs feel sluggish, foreign—like they don't belong to me. A dull throbbing pounds in my skull, sending sharp waves of pain through my head.

I try to move, but my body refuses to respond properly. My fingers twitch against a hard, uneven surface. Stone? My senses slowly return, and I realize I'm lying on something rough and cold. The scent of damp earth and rust fills my nose, mixing with something foul—sewage.

Where am I?

A surge of panic rushes through me. The last thing I remember… what was it? I try to recall, but my memories feel distant, like a dream slipping through my fingers. There was something before this—a different life?

My breathing quickens. I force my body to move, pushing myself up with trembling arms. My vision is blurry at first, but as it clears, I take in my surroundings.

A dark room. Stone walls. Exposed pipes running along the ceiling. Stale air.

Scattered wooden crates, a metal table, a flickering bulb overhead. In the far corner, a tattered mattress, barely more than a pile of cloth and stuffing. Water drips somewhere in the distance, the faint echo bouncing off the walls.

This… this is underground.

The realization clicks. This isn't just some random basement—this place is hidden. Secluded. A secret.

My gaze lowers to my own hands, still shaking. They're rough, covered in faint scars and callouses. These aren't my hands. They feel… wrong. I flex my fingers, watching the unfamiliar movements. My breathing grows shallow as a creeping dread settles in my gut.

I stumble toward the nearest surface—a rusted metal cabinet—and catch my reflection in a cracked mirror hanging above it.

A stranger stares back.

A young man, no older than seventeen. Gaunt face, sharp features, messy dark hair. Faint bruises line his jaw. His eyes, shadowed and tired, widen in shock.

I take a step back, my heart pounding in my ears.

This isn't me.

More memories surge into my mind—not my own. Images, flashes of a different life. A child, abandoned at six years old. Left to survive in a world that didn't care whether he lived or died.

Crime. Violence. A struggle for survival.

A name comes to me—his name. My name? It sticks to my mind like glue, but it feels unnatural on my tongue.

I clutch my head as the memories settle, mixing with my own fractured thoughts. I can feel them, like echoes of someone else's pain. But underneath it all, one truth becomes clear—

I've been reincarnated.

But why?

Before I can process any of it, a sharp pressure builds in the air. The hairs on my arms stand on end. It's subtle at first, but then—

A sound.

A deep, low hum, like the air itself is vibrating. My head snaps up. Across the room, something appears.

At first, it looks like a simple distortion, as if the very air is bending. Then, it takes shape—a door.

But it isn't a door.

The frame is uneven, shifting, made of some dark, pulsating substance. It isn't solid, yet it isn't formless. It simply exists, unnatural yet undeniable. My stomach turns at the sight of it, an instinctive fear creeping into my bones.

Then, a voice.

It isn't loud or quiet. It isn't even a sound, not really. It's a presence, a feeling, pressing against my mind.

"Come."

A shiver runs down my spine. My body reacts before my mind does. A pull—not physical, but deeper. Something in me knows that I need to step forward.

But what happens if I do?

I hesitate, my breath shallow. This isn't normal. This isn't logical. Every instinct screams at me to stay put, to run in the opposite direction.

But something else… something deeper, hungrier, urges me forward.

One step. Then another.

I stand before the rift, the air around it warping, distorting. My fingers twitch. I could turn back now. I could ignore it.

But the voice whispers again.

"Come."

I take a deep breath—

And step through.

---

A sudden weightlessness.

Then, a rush of sensation—too much, too fast. My mind explodes with information. Words, symbols, thoughts, all flooding in at once.

I fall.

But there's no ground. No air. No light. Just endless dark.

Then—

[Immortal Rift System Acquired.]

The moment the words appear, something clicks inside me. A deep, overwhelming force settles into my core, like a dormant beast finally waking.

The darkness shifts.

When I open my eyes, I am somewhere else.

A vast, empty chamber. Stone floors, towering walls. The air is thick, ancient. A single row of torches lines the space, their flames flickering, casting long, shifting shadows.

I exhale slowly.

The world I once knew is gone.

And the rift has only just begun to reveal its secrets.

A sudden jolt—sharp, intrusive—tears through my mind.

It isn't like before. This isn't just memories flooding in. This is something else—as if two realities are colliding within me.

Flashes of a life I once lived—a different world, a different name.

Keon.

That was my name. My real name.

I see glimpses of my past—fragments of a mundane yet familiar existence. The normal world I once called home. The people I knew. The life I left behind.

Then, something shifts. Another set of memories intertwines with my own—the memories of the boy whose body I now inhabit.

His pain. His struggle. His crimes.

And then, the final revelation—

His name.

A name I should not recognize. A name that should have no connection to my past.

And yet…

Keon.

My first life—Keon.

This new life—Keon.

But the twist lies in the difference. The first name is different, but his title—his second name—is the same as my original one.

A chill runs down my spine. What are the chances? Coincidence? Fate? Something more?

Before I can dwell on it, the air shatters.

A voice—deep, guttural, inhuman.

But it is not the voice I heard before.

This one is different. Darker. Demonic.

And it speaks with an edge of authority, as if it has been watching me from the moment I arrived.

"How…?" The voice rumbles, vibrating through the very stone beneath my feet. "How has a human entered my domain?"

I freeze.

The voice isn't coming from the system. It isn't an illusion. It is real.

"This place was sealed… by my own will."

A pressure crashes down on me, suffocating, as if an unseen force is pushing me into the ground. My instincts scream danger.

Sealed? By its own will?

My throat is dry, my mind racing. I can barely process my own thoughts when, suddenly—

[System Notification]

A soft chime rings in my ears, and before me, a glowing panel materializes.

A system window.

The letters appear, crisp and cold:

[Dungeon Identified]

Name: Dungeon of the Dead

Owner: Demonic Skeleton Dragon

Status: Dying Dungeon

I stare at the words.

Dungeon of the Dead.

Demonic Skeleton Dragon.

Dying Dungeon.

The pieces fall into place.

I am not in an ordinary place.

I have stepped into the domain of a being that should not exist.

And it has noticed me.

---