Cold.
It was the first thing he felt. A deep, biting chill that wrapped around him like a suffocating blanket. His body was stiff, his fingers numb, and his breath came out in weak, foggy puffs.
'…I'm gonna die.'
That thought lingered in his mind, and he hated how real it felt. He wasn't sure what was happening or why, but he knew one thing: this body was weak, and this cold was going to kill him.
He tried to move, but his limbs were sluggish. His body was small—far smaller than it should have been. Panic started to creep in.
'Wait. What the hell? My hands—why are they this tiny?'
His mind was foggy, but instincts screamed at him. He had been... older, hadn't he? A different body. A different life. Then, why was he here?
More importantly—where was "here"?!
He forced himself up, the snow crunching beneath him as he shivered uncontrollably. His clothes were thin, completely unsuited for the freezing hellscape around him. His body ached, his skin burned, and every breath felt like ice scraping his throat.
He was going to freeze to death. Again.
No.
No, screw that.
He was not dying like this. Not in the middle of nowhere, not in some random snowfield. His body trembled as he curled into himself, his mind racing for any way to survive.
'Warmth. I need warmth. A heater—fire—anything!'
And then—
Fwoosh.
Heat.
It was sudden. Too sudden.
The agonizing cold vanished in an instant, replaced by the comforting warmth of a heater humming beside him. A small, modern space heater, its metal surface radiating gentle heat as if it had always been there.
"…Huh."
He stared at it. His brain struggled to process what just happened.
A few seconds ago, he was freezing to death. And now, he had a heater?
His first thought wasn't shock. It wasn't even excitement.
It was just—acceptance.
'Oh. So I got powers. That's cool, I guess.'
He reached a hand out, feeling the artificial warmth against his frozen skin. The relief was instant. His shivers eased, his body stopped aching, and the fear of dying faded into a dull afterthought.
Now that he wasn't actively dying, he finally had the mental clarity to process everything.
1. He had reincarnated.
He didn't know how or why, but he had memories of being someone else.
2. He was a child.
His hands were small, his body weak. He wasn't the same person he used to be.
3. He had powers.
Somehow, he had created a heater just by thinking about it.
And most importantly—
4. He had no idea where the hell he was.
He let out a slow sigh, shifting to sit cross-legged on the snow-covered ground, his mind working through the situation. There was no point in panicking. That wasn't going to change anything.
First, he had to assess.
He glanced around. Snow. Ice. More snow.
It was an endless stretch of white in every direction, with no visible signs of life or civilization. The sky was a dull gray, thick clouds hanging low over the horizon.
'Alright. Freezing wasteland. Most likely Siberia, considering how it feels like death incarnate.'
Now, the real question—what was his next move?
Staying out in the open wasn't an option. If he could create a heater, maybe he could make something bigger? A tent? A small shelter?
Or should he try moving? Searching for people?
…No.
That was too risky. He still didn't know where he was, who he was, or if he was in danger. Until he had a solid grasp of the situation, staying hidden was the safest bet.
Decision made.
He took one last deep breath, letting the warmth of the heater sink into his bones. Then, with the same calmness as before, he muttered,
"…Guess I should figure out how this power works next."