Erik groaned, his head throbbing as he adjusted to the dim light filtering through the gaps in the caravan's wooden walls. His wrists ached from the iron shackles, and the stench of unwashed bodies still lingered thick in the air. As if things weren't already bad enough, a high-pitched ding rang in his skull.
[Welcome, Host! Bloodscion System initializing...]
A glowing red screen flickered into existence before his eyes, its letters pulsing like freshly drawn blood. Erik squinted, blinking several times, but the text stubbornly remained.
[System initialization: 100% complete!]
[Congratulations! You have been successfully transferred to the world of Eclipsed Fate: Chronicles of the Lost Empire!]
Erik's mind screeched to a halt.
"Wait. Wait, wait, WAIT." He stared at the words, his exhausted brain struggling to make sense of them. "Eclipsed Fate? Why does that sound so—"
Then it hit him. Like a sledgehammer to the face.
"That's the damn novel my sister was obsessed with!"
A shiver crawled down his spine as realization settled in. His sister, Marie, had spent years ranting about that book. He vaguely remembered her gushing over its world-building, the tragic hero. At the time, he had just nodded along, too busy with video games to care.
And now he was inside it.
"…What the actual hell?"
[Error: Host appears to be experiencing existential crisis. Would you like a comforting message?]
"…No?"
[Too bad! You got this, champ! Just think of it as a fun adventure!]
Erik groaned. "Why is my system sentient?"
[Because I'm your best and only friend now! Also, plot reasons.]
Before Erik could curse the system into oblivion, his vision blurred. A sudden rush of images and sensations overwhelmed him—memories not his own.
Zarathis Hart. That was his new name. A commoner, just seventeen, born in a war-torn province. His father had died to taxation—yes, taxation was literally what killed him—while his mother had succumbed to illness. He had been scraping by, working odd jobs, until he was captured by slavers.
The final memory? Being chained inside this very caravan.
The flashback ended, leaving Erik gasping for breath. His lungs burned as if he had just resurfaced from drowning, his head pounding with the weight of foreign memories.
[Bloodscion Archon System activated!]
[Your path to glory (or gruesome death) begins now!]
Erik exhaled, rubbing his temples. "So let me get this straight—I died, got shoved into some random guy's body, and now I have a blood magic system that apparently thinks it's funny?"
[Correct! Look at you, already adapting!]
Erik clenched his fists. "Okay, no. No, no, no. I did not sign up for this! Where's my tutorial? My starter pack? You know, something that doesn't involve being a slave in some medieval nightmare?"
[Tutorial? Haha! You're in hard mode, buddy! No hand-holding here!]
Erik groaned, tipping his head back against the wooden wall of the caravan. "Of course. Of course I get the worst possible start. Let me guess, do I at least have some overpowered abilities to make up for this garbage situation?"
[Technically, yes! But also, technically, no! See, your abilities require blood, and unless you plan to start biting necks, you're kind of… powerless right now.]
Erik stared at the floating text, unblinking. Then, with all the energy he could muster, he slammed his head against the wooden planks behind him.
[Ouch. That looked like it hurt. But don't worry! You'll learn to love it. Now, shall we begin?]