1 Transmigrated into a lab

Jagnar, a young man of nineteen, was walking down the street, he was on his way to his house. Suddenly, he found himself struggling to walk as he felt severe pain in his chest. He caught his chest, pressing tightly on it. People around him started running towards him as he fell to the ground.

Jagnar was a healthy young man, and he had never experienced anything like this before. The pain was excruciating, and it felt like his heart was going to explode. He could feel the sweat beading on his forehead, and his vision was starting to blur.

As he fell to the ground, Jagnar could hear the voices of people around him. They were shouting and calling for help. He tried to speak, but no words came out. All he could do was writhe in pain.

Yet, as his vision faded and his body grew weak, the world around Jagnar began to distort. Colors blended together, morphing into a dizzying whirl of hues. The ground beneath him quivered, and a disorienting sensation of movement swept through his being. In an instant, the familiar reality he knew shattered, replaced by a kaleidoscope of swirling lights and flashes that engulfed his senses.

When the bewildering spectacle finally subsided, Jagnar's eyes fluttered open, cautiously adjusting to the new environment that had materialized around him.

In the depths of a dimly lit basement, Jagnar awoke to a disorienting haze. His vision struggled to adjust to the oppressive darkness that enveloped his surroundings. The air felt heavy, suffused with an almost palpable sense of confinement. As his senses sharpened, he became acutely aware of the restraints binding him to an inclined stretcher, trapping him in a position of vulnerability.

Fear gripped Jagnar's heart as he tried to make sense of his predicament. He strained against the straps that held him in place, their tight grip serving as a stark reminder of his helplessness. Panic surged through his veins, intensifying his desperate attempts to break free and escape this nightmarish prison.

Through the haze, Jagnar's gaze caught sight of a glass window standing between him and a group of individuals. Silhouetted against the faint glow of artificial light, their presence exuded an aura of authority. The male and female doctors, their expressions stern and impassive, observed him with clinical detachment. Their eyes bore into Jagnar, as if dissecting him with their gaze alone.

Jagnar's muffled pleas for help, his voice stifled by a leather strap covering his mouth, echoed within the confines of the room. Each cry carried the weight of desperation, a desperate attempt to reach out to the indifferent figures beyond the glass barrier. But his anguished pleas fell on deaf ears, drowned out by the cold indifference of his captors.

Time seemed to crawl as Jagnar's captors engaged in a hushed conversation. The male doctor, his voice tinged with an air of authority, inquired about the readiness of the samples. The female doctor, her voice betraying a mix of determination and clinical detachment, affirmed their preparedness. A chilling certainty settled upon Jagnar's trembling form as he realized he was nothing more than a mere subject in their twisted experiments.

Suddenly, robotic hands emerged from the shadows, their mechanical precision evoking a sense of dread within Jagnar's core. Gripped between their cold, metallic fingers were two syringe-like tubes, their contents unknown to him. The air crackled with tension as the needles, glinting ominously, began their slow advance towards Jagnar's exposed form.

The young man's eyes widened in terror, his mind racing with thoughts of the unimaginable pain and suffering that awaited him. He thrashed against his restraints with newfound strength, desperate to evade the impending assault on his body. But his struggle was in vain as the robotic hands closed in, the sharp points of the needles drawing ever closer to his vulnerable flesh.

In one heart-stopping moment, the needles pierced Jagnar's chest, plunging deep into his heart. Agony ripped through his being, searing every nerve ending with unbearable pain. The world around him blurred as darkness threatened to consume his consciousness. In his final moments of awareness, he felt his life slip away, surrendering to the clutches of death once more.

Unbeknownst to Jagnar, the doctors on the other side of the glass regarded his demise as yet another failure. Their cold indifference turned to frustration as they debated their next course of action. The room filled with their voices, their discussions an eerie backdrop to Jagnar's fading existence.

But then, against all odds, Jagnar began to stir. A flicker of life sparked within him, defying the certainty of his demise. Slowly, as if pulled from the clutches of death itself, his senses began to resurface. The pain that had consumed him only moments ago receded, replaced by an inexplicable surge of energy.

His body trembled on the stretcher, the force within him building to an unstoppable crescendo. The restraints that once held him captive strained and groaned under the strain, unable to contain the burgeoning power that surged through his veins. With an explosive release of energy, the bindings shattered, granting Jagnar his long-awaited freedom.

"I think the power within him is going out of control, do you think that room can withstand the force?" said a bald man who was standing in a room of TV screens showing the video of Jagnar.

Another man, who seemed to be middle aged with white hair and a beard, said, "The room's walls are made of the strongest material I know."

"Yes, but can it withstand the one we are making? That is the question here." bald man said.

"Let's hope the doctor makes it work," the white-bearded man said, squinting his eyes and staring at the screen.