Inside a dark cell, a handsome young man with silver hair sat cross-legged on a straw mat. He wore heavy shackles — his wrists and ankles binded. Despite wearing rags, his refined features gave him an almost otherworldly appearance, his blood-red irises glinting imperceptibly in the darkness.
The faint glow from the gas lamp spilled through the iron bars, its flames flickering and creating shadows on the moss-covered walls.
'What an absurd situation I've found myself in…'
Syth sighed, leaning his back against the wall.
'How long has it been? Two weeks? Three?'
Syth didn't know.
He hadn't seen the outside world in what felt like an eternity.
He had transmigrated into this world three weeks ago, spending most of that time rotting in this place.
What crime had his predecessor committed to end up in such a miserable state?
None.
Well...
He had committed a few, but that wasn't the reason he was here.
As ridiculous as it sounded, before transmigrating, his predecessor had been an orphan and a street rat. He had belonged to a small gang of outlaws, surviving each day by stealing.
But that didn't last long — they eventually crossed the wrong people.
Slave traders...
Somehow, their little group had caught the attention of such people.
Outnumbered and outmatched by trained fighters, they were inevitably captured.
Though, Syth had managed to stab one of them in the chest with a hidden dagger, catching him off guard.
But just as he tried to escape, lightning suddenly fell from the sky and struck him down.
And that was how he died — his soul soon replaced by another.
As he went through his predecessor's memories, Syth couldn't help but chuckle inwardly.
It was an absurd situation.
'The sky was clear and bright, yet lightning had fallen on him? Either some mysterious force wanted him dead, or he was just incredibly unlucky…'
Yes.
He was a very unlucky fellow.
From what he could gather, the boy who once occupied this body couldn't catch a break.
He had been born into a family of beggars...
Forced into solitude by the age of six after losing his entire family to an illness...
Beaten within an inch of his life just for scraps of food...
Even the group he had joined treated him like trash, as he had been the weakest among them...
This boy's life was simply sorrow.
It could hardly be called a life.
Click! Creaak!
Lost in thought, Syth was startled by the sudden noise of his cell door opening.
"Get up. An esteemed guest is visiting."
Syth glanced at the guard who had spoken. The man's eyes were piercing and indifferent, as if he were staring at a pile of filth.
'A guest? Am I being sold as a slave?'
Syth's expression darkened at the thought.
Since he now inhabited this body, he had also inherited the fate that came with it.
Not only had he killed someone, but he'd also been captured, imprisoned, and now, possibly sold into slavery...
'Should I just kill myself?'
He smiled wryly.
The idea of becoming a slave with no free will...
'Yeah, I'd rather die…'
Syth laughed inwardly — It was a bitter and helpless one.
What kind of shitty transmigration was this?
Shouldn't transmigrators get some leeway upon their arrival?
Learn about the world, create some kind of plan, perhaps even receive some kind of cheat?
But no!
Upon his arrival, he was already about to become a slave!
From the memories he'd inherited, he knew this world was a backward one — ruled by knights and nobles.
He assumed it was a magical world, too.
After all, how else could lightning fall from a clear sky?
Combined with his illogical transmigration — proof that souls existed — it wasn't hard to guess that magic did as well.
At least, that's what he believed. In his past life, he had read countless books and novels, so concepts like reincarnation and transmigration weren't new to him. Even if his predecessor's memories offered limited insight into this world, he could still make educated guesses.
'Well, not like I can kill myself right now…'
Syth glanced down at his shackles.
With a sigh, he stood.
After the guard removed the shackles from his ankles, Syth followed him through the prison.
The corridor beyond his cell was narrow and damp, lit sparsely by more flickering gas lamps.
As Syth walked, the clinking of chains echoed.
Cell doors creaked open in succession, prisoners being hauled out one by one.
Some stumbled groggily, and others moved like broken husks. Young or old, man or woman — all were bound by heavy iron, their faces hollowed by hunger and hopelessness.
'So I'm not the only one...'
More than a dozen others were already ahead, trudging along the corridor under armed escort.
Eventually, the winding corridor opened into a wide courtyard, where several carriages stood waiting.
Armed guards stood in place at every corner, spears in hand, their gazes sharp and cold.
Syth narrowed his eyes.
Around two hundred prisoners had been assembled, all shackled and herded like livestock.
"This should be all of them, esteemed one."
A chubby man stepped forward with a smile, speaking with great respect. His hands were covered in jewelry and cupped together, his crescent-shaped eyes alongside his smile resembling that of a sly fox.
"Good," a man muttered. He wore a crimson robe with a single cloud symbol. With a flick, he tossed a bag of gold on the ground.
Despite the blatant act of rudeness, the chubby man just politely smiled and picked up the bag and the few pieces of gold that spilled out, his expression not showing a trace of displeasure to the three crimson-robed people in front of him.
Syth watched the exchange between them impassively.
'Those people seem powerful...'
All the guards here likely belonged to that chubby man, yet he acted like a submissive dog, while the red-robed figures — despite being vastly outnumbered — carried themselves with complete indifference.
Syth could guess that they likely have the means to be arrogant...
'That bag of gold... it's likely to purchase all the prisoners here...'
It was an excessive amount of money.
As a street rat, Syth has only ever seen copper and silver
'Purchasing over two hundred slaves, I wonder what their goal is?'
Syth contemplated with a frown.
After the exchange, the people in red robes didn't waste any more time.
One by one, the shackled prisoners were ushered toward the carriages. There were more than a dozen of them, each reinforced with iron bars and guarded by soldiers wielding spears and crossbows.
The prisoners climbed in silently, the sound of chains clinking filling the tense air.
After climbing onto a carriage, Syth settled into a corner.
It only took ten minutes before the carriages creaked and began to move, its wheels rattling against the stone, and gradually fading into the wilderness beyond the prison.
A few prisoners whispered amongst themselves, their voices low and strained.
"We're all gonna die," someone suddenly muttered.
Syth's ears twitched, overhearing those ominous words. He turned slightly to see a middle-aged man beside him. His clothes were torn, his face and body hollow from hunger, and his eyes bloodshot.
The man kept repeating that phrase in a trembling voice, over and over.
"We're all gonna die… we're all gonna die…"
Syth furrowed his eyebrows.
'Does he know where we're going? Perhaps I can get some answers from him,' Syth thought, deciding to ask him some questions.
"Excuse me, but do you know where we're going?" Syth asked.
The man flinched and looked at him, his face pale. He was at first startled by Syth's unique appearance, but quickly explained.
"I-I don't know for sure, but… those red robes… the way they carry themselves… they must be Ascenders!"
"Ascenders?" Syth asked quietly, his eyes gleaming with a mysterious light.
The man nodded rapidly. "Before I ended up here… I was a merchant. Not a good one, but I traveled a lot. I traded in a few villages so I've heard of them before..."
The man paused.
"Ascenders don't usually interact with mortals like us, thus they aren't very well known amongst the common people. However, in this region, there's only one place I've heard of where people wear crimson robes with cloud patterns..."
He continued in a quiet voice, fear evident in his tone.
"The Blood Sect..."
Syth's brows lifted slightly.
"That place... That's no place for people like us… it's a pit of lunatics! Monsters with power beyond reason! Our fates will be worse than death!"
He clutched his knees, rocking back and forth.
"I don't wanna die… I don't wanna die…"
As the man began losing his mind once more, Syth leaned back, his expression unreadable as he digested the information.
'Blood Sect... Ascenders… power beyond reason?'
A part of him felt as if he had heard of those words before.
Soon, his eyes widened in realisation.
He remembered!
'I didn't think my transmigration could get any weirder…'
Syth's red eyes gleamed faintly, his lips curving into a strained smile.
'It seems I've transmigrated into a novel...'
His unique appearance, the lightning falling from the heavens, the reverence of the people in red robes...
Now he was certain.
This was definitely a world of magic.
Moreover, the term Ascenders was significant to him as it belonged to one of his favourite novels.
It was unmistakable.
And the place he was going to also reconfirmed it.
'The Blood Sect...'
Syth let out a breath of cold air.
'I'm really screwed...'