Transmigration and shock

I opened my eyes, and my head started throbbing. It felt as if something was searing into my brain. I clutched my head and writhed in agony. The pain persisted, seeming to stretch on for hours, though in reality, it lasted only 15 minutes. When the pain gradually subsided, I cautiously opened my eyes, greeted by the sight of a ceiling.

With a swift movement, I sat up in bed. I then surveyed my surroundings with a rapid glance, spotting a computer that appeared outdated. The floor was hardwood rather than carpet, and the walls were adorned with posters featuring bands from the early 2000s, such as My Chemical Romance and Metallica—some bands I didn't even recognize.

I was disoriented and bewildered. Why was I here? Where was this place? Then, realization hit me like a freight train: "Where am I?" Panic surged through me, and I found myself dropping to my knees, hyperventilating. The situation was profoundly eerie. Who could have moved me while I was asleep?

A mirror caught my attention, positioned in a corner of the room near a dresser. I approached it hesitantly, catching a glimpse of myself in its reflection, and froze in place.

Staring back at me was the visage of a teenage boy, possibly between the ages of 15 and 17, standing at around 1.76 meters tall. His features included black hair and brown eyes, and he possessed a slightly slender yet athletic build.

"Did I somehow transmigrate?" I pondered aloud. I delved into my memories, attempting to recall what had transpired before I fell asleep. Fragmented recollections surged forward, revealing that this body's identity belonged to someone named Leon Pentance—a 17-year-old who attended Midtown High School. He was raised by a single mother; his father had tragically passed away while serving in the military.

"Midtown High... I hope my suspicions aren't accurate," I muttered.

Swiftly, I powered on the computer and typed "news today" into the search bar, prompting a myriad of search results to appear. The date displayed was 6/25/2008, and a headline caught my eye: "Billionaire Playboy Tony Stark and Model Francesca Rios Spotted Holding Hands."

As I read the headline, a sinking feeling settled within me. "I'm in this for the long haul," I concluded. "I'm essentially powerless in this context. This guy has no abilities or secrets that I'm aware of—am I going to perish?"

I ventured out of the bedroom and surprisingly navigated the house with familiarity. White walls, hardwood floors—the layout was etched into my mind. I headed toward the kitchen and noticed a note on the refrigerator: "Food's in the fridge. Enjoy your day off—it's Saturday. Just be careful not to nibble your own fingers while savoring my cooking. Love, Mom."

Anxiety gnawed at me. How would I behave around her? Would she somehow discern that I was inhabiting her son's body? "Get real with yourself; this isn't a work of fiction, it's reality," I chided myself.

"Who would jump to the conclusion that someone had transmigrated into their loved one's body? Even if I act peculiar, no one would make such an assumption."

With a renewed sense of determination, Leon, once known as "Mark," felt his stomach growl emptily. He spotted a dish that resembled lasagna in the fridge. "Ah, lasagna—my favorite. Don't mind if I indulge," he thought, warming it in the microwave and consuming it with not a trace left on the plate.

Upon finishing the lasagna, an abrupt and intense headache enveloped him, surpassing the initial pain. He clutched his head, aching to scream, yet no sound escaped. Amidst the agony, visions emerged, causing him to mumble disjointed phrases. "Apprentice, pathway, sequence, power, bestowment, corruption, and madness."

This harrowing state persisted for five minutes before the torment and visions abruptly ceased. "An apprentice of Sequence 9—what does this mean?" I questioned aloud. "Are these the abilities that accompanied my transmigration? Why must I endure these bouts of madness and auditory hallucinations?"

As I wallowed in my thoughts, a sense of resolution dawned on me. "Despite the looming madness, I'm grateful for having something to defend myself with. And how could I possibly advance to 'Trickmaster' without ingredients in this Marvel world?"

For now, those questions could be relegated to the background. I felt invigorated, as though I instinctively comprehended all of my newfound powers.

"'Door Opening': I possess the ability to traverse obstacles and solid matter."

"I can utilize Spirit Vision."

"Spirit Vision: I possess the capability to perceive non-physical entities like ghosts and specters. I can discern distinct aspects of a soul, deduce an individual's well-being and emotions, and detect magical auras."

"I hold the power to unlock any mundane lock."

"With these newfound abilities, I'm marginally safer, though I mustn't overstep my bounds and succumb to madness."

"I must exercise caution; this isn't a storybook. Death could befall me during my attempts with these powers, or worse, I could lose my sanity."

"Should I test them now?" I shook my head decisively. "No, not yet. I should rest; fatigue weighs heavily on me. I'll conduct some experiments tomorrow," I mused, stretching my arm above my head and yawning.

Ascending the stairs, I crawled into bed, the events of the day playing on a loop in my mind.