Transmigrate ?

Chapter 3

Inside a chaotic apartment room, a man in his thirties was suspended in mid-air. A chair lay on the ground, with a rope tightly wrapped around the man's neck, revealing that he had just taken his own life. The man, overweight and lifeless, had bloodshot eyes that reflected profound sadness and frustration. Evidence of an overdose was present as white foam collected around his mouth and dripped, indicating the cause of death was not solely from hanging.

In a sudden twist of events, the man's desolate eyes jolted in shock, followed by a wave of hysterical fear. Panic gripped him as the suffocating sensation in his neck and the struggle to breathe overwhelmed his consciousness. Frantically, the man attempted to reach for the rope that bound him, only to realize with heightened distress that his right hand was missing entirely. In desperation, he extended his left hand, desperately grasping at the hope of untying the knots around his neck.

Despite his efforts, the fat man found himself unable to pull himself up or loosen the restraints. Growing increasingly frustrated, he felt a glimmer of hope when a part of his finger grazed against the rough surface of the rope. With newfound determination, he immediately acted upon his thoughts, and a machete materialized in his hand. He weakly swung the blade at the rope, the motion lacking strength but sufficient enough to sever it.

As the rope snapped and something fell with a resounding thud, the fat man winced in pain, but he lacked the strength to voice his complaints. Overwhelmed with fear yet grateful to have survived the ordeal, he gasped for breath, his heart pounding in his chest. For a long while, he remained on the floor, breathing heavily, before summoning the strength to rise and sit, albeit with great difficulty. Once settled, the fat man cast inquisitive glances around the room, his mind swirling with questions.

"Where am I? Huh... shouldn't I be in the hospital now if I survived? But why did I hang myself?" The confused and dazed figure of the fat man resembled that of a madman unable to accept his circumstances. After a few moments of gathering himself, he finally had the presence of mind to look around and realized that he had memories that didn't belong to him. With this realization, one thing became clear to him. "Did I transfer like in those novels?" he uttered, his disbelief evident.

In the novels that Alex had read, most people would experience a transfer after being hit by a truck—and he had indeed been hit. Recalling the children who had shouted at him, he couldn't help but feel a helpless sigh escape his lips. Although those children who had called out for the truck's honking seemed like ordinary kids, they were heroes. It wasn't uncommon for children in the West Sumatra region, with its steep highways, to save people by blocking tires and preventing accidents. Reflecting on the memory of being hit, Alex found it hard to believe that he was experiencing something akin to what he had read in the novels.

Yet, as he remembered the extraordinary realm within the legendary farming ring, a bitter smile formed on his lips. While Alex bemoaned his peculiar situation, a gurgling sound emanated from his stomach, reminding him of his hunger. Reacting swiftly, he attempted to rise and head to the kitchen. However, as he tried to stand, a sharp pain shot through his left leg, causing him to collapse helplessly.

As he fell, his instinct was to brace himself with his right hand, but to his dismay, his right hand failed to make contact with the floor. It was a devastating realization—he had no right hand!

With his right cheek hitting the ground first, Alex let out a pained cry. Tears welled up in his eyes as he grappled with the harsh reality of his situation. Unprepared for the challenges he now faced, Alex couldn't help but feel overwhelmed. In this unfamiliar world, not only was he burdened with a limp, but he was also missing a right hand. The weight of his despair settled upon him as he mourned his lost abilities.

After a moment of grief, Alex mustered the strength to rise slowly and survey his surroundings. His gaze settled on a crutch, and with painstaking effort, he crawled towards it before finally reaching out to grasp it. With the aid of the crutch, he managed to stand, albeit with great difficulty and clumsiness.

Carefully, Alex made his way toward the narrow and unkempt kitchen. Each step felt heavy, his unaccustomed body and limitations weighing him down. The thought of giving up crossed his mind, but when he arrived at the refrigerator, all negative thoughts dissipated.

Opening the refrigerator, Alex found some cold, less-than-fresh food. Undeterred, he proceeded to cook, taking solace in the fact that he had a passion for cooking after leaving his job. After twenty minutes of diligent effort, a fragrant plate of egg-fried rice was ready. Eating with the challenge of using only his left hand proved difficult, but his hunger compelled him to persevere.

Once he had eaten his fill, Alex took a brief respite, acknowledging that he still had much to adapt to in this new world. Amidst the jumble of memories from his life on Earth, he wiped away the tears that had gathered at the corners of his eyes.

Fortunately, before his return, Alex had provided his father with a dozen bottles of nutritional supplements, easing the family's worries about future finances. He hoped that his father would find the research papers he had stored on a flash drive in his bag.

"Mom... Dad... I'm sorry for leaving so suddenly. I always wish the best for both of you and for my younger siblings," Alex's voice trembled with discomfort as he uttered his heartfelt apology.

Afterward, Alex unconsciously raised his left hand and gazed at the ring adorning his little finger. Mixed feelings welled up within him. He couldn't decide whether to feel annoyed or fortunate. Without this ring, he would never have entered the adventure and consequently wouldn't have been struck by the truck. On the other hand, if he hadn't obtained the ring and still been hit, perhaps he would have become a wandering spirit, waiting in limbo instead of transmigrating into parallel worlds as he had done now. With a meaningful sigh, Alex pondered over the whims of destiny.

Taking the machete he had used to sever the rope around his neck, Alex contemplated its significance. During his exploration in the ring space, he discovered that the ring contained the contents of the chest he had found earlier. However, he never anticipated that the items stored within the ring would transform. The machete was no longer a plain, straight-bladed tool like a typical Indonesian machete. Instead, it possessed an elegant curvature with a slightly bulging tip, resembling the graceful plume of a bird's feather. Though not excessively ornate, the sight captivated Alex's eyes.

As Alex lifted the machete, he sensed its increased weight compared to its previous form. Although the length of the machete had diminished from 45 centimeters to 30 centimeters, it felt more substantial. Curiosity piqued, Alex playfully swung the machete in various directions until he felt satisfied.

Placing an iron spatula in front of him, Alex skillfully wielded the machete, slashing through the air with a resounding whir. The spatula, upon contact, split apart effortlessly as if butter were being sliced with a hot knife. Excitement sparked in Alex's eyes.

"Is it true? Is it really that sharp?"

Eager to test its sharpness further, Alex continued to cut through the handle of the spatula multiple times, consistently achieving the same impressive result.

"Hahaha, this is amazing!" Alex exclaimed with delight. Who says boys only like sports cars? In reality, boys have a genuine fascination for firearms and cold weapons.

Closing his eyes, Alex accessed the items stored within his storage ring. Among the various objects that emerged, he quickly retrieved a machete sheath to complement the one he had previously wielded. Through his previous interactions with the machete, he had acquired its memories and knowledge of its usage, which led to his peculiar experiments.

Struggling to replace the machete, Alex eventually managed to position it on the table nearby. He then shifted his attention to the other items he had retrieved. To his surprise, the three yellowed, tattered books had vanished, replaced by three stacks of square palm leaves. These palm-leaf manuscripts were remnants of ancient books.

Filled with curiosity, Alex couldn't help but wonder about the remarkable contents concealed within these ancient manuscripts, especially considering the magical properties exhibited by the machete. With eager anticipation, he selected one of the stacks of palm leaves closest to him.

However, as soon as Alex's hand made contact with the papyrus, his eyes widened in shock, and his body involuntarily jolted, freezing in place as if he had entered a vegetative state, his soul momentarily detached.