Reverend Insanity: The Gacha System

The somber sky wept as if mourning, the rain cascading down like a thousand silver needles piercing the earth. Thunder rumbled faintly in the distance, a melancholic symphony to accompany the grim finale of Levi Ashborn's life. His abyss-black eyes glimmered faintly with a detached calm, matching the dark allure of his jet-black hair, now dampened by the oppressive storm.

He sat in the front passenger seat of a sleek black car, the hum of the engine a soothing backdrop to the storm's fury. Raindrops splattered against the windshield, each droplet refracting the dim glow of the headlights, creating fleeting illusions of light in the consuming darkness.

Levi's gaze was locked onto the glowing screen of his phone, his thumb slowly scrolling down as his lips curled into a faint, bitter smile. The words on the screen were his solace and his curse. The final chapter of a novel he had devoted countless nights to was now staring back at him, its story incomplete, its mysteries unresolved.

"Such a good novel is incomplete," Levi muttered to himself, his voice barely audible over the rhythmic drumming of the rain. "I feel sad." His tone carried a trace of lament, not for his imminent demise, but for the tale that would never reach its conclusion. The tale of an indomitable will, a world of ambition, and the relentless pursuit of power. It resonated deeply with him, igniting an unspoken yearning within his heart.

The car's driver, an elderly man with weathered hands gripping the steering wheel, glanced briefly at Levi through the rearview mirror. He said nothing, his focus returning to the rain-slicked road ahead.

Time seemed to stretch endlessly as the car descended a winding mountain path. The headlights carved weak tunnels through the misty shroud, and the tires hissed against the wet asphalt. Then it happened—a burst of light, too close and too sudden. A truck loomed ahead, its hulking form obscured by the rain until the last possible moment.

The driver's panicked shout melded with the deafening blare of the truck's horn. Levi barely had time to react. He gripped the edge of his seat as the car swerved violently, the world tilting and spinning in a dizzying cascade of motion. Metal screeched against metal, sparks danced like fireflies, and the sensation of weightlessness engulfed him as the vehicle broke through the guardrail and plunged into the abyss below.

For a fleeting moment, there was silence. The roar of the rain, the crash of the impact—everything faded into nothingness. Levi found himself suspended, both in time and thought, as if the universe had granted him a brief reprieve.

The world around him grew darker, colder. Blood trickled down his temple, mingling with the rain that seeped through the shattered window. He could no longer feel the pain, only a growing sense of detachment. His phone lay askew on the floor, its screen cracked, but the final lines of the unfinished novel were still visible.

Levi exhaled softly, a resigned sigh escaping his lips. "A fitting end for someone like me," he mused, his words barely a whisper. The storm raged on, indifferent to the fleeting life it claimed.

As his consciousness faded, the faint remnants of his regret lingered, not for the life he had lived, but for the story that remained untold. The rain fell heavier, as if to drown his last moments, and the abyss swallowed him whole.

Darkness descended, and with it, the promise of something unknown.

Levi Ashborn's eyes fluttered open, and the dim light of a flickering oil lamp greeted him. The air smelled of aged wood and faint herbs. He lay on a simple wooden bed, the rough-hewn frame creaking slightly as he stirred. Surrounding him was a rustic wooden house, its walls constructed from sturdy planks that bore the marks of time—scratches, knots, and an earthy scent of resin.

The room was sparsely furnished, but each item seemed meticulously placed. A wooden table with uneven legs stood near the window, its surface adorned with an assortment of dried herbs and a small mortar and pestle. Shelves lined one wall, holding clay jars and bundles of unknown plants tied with twine. A low fire crackled in a stone hearth, its warmth barely reaching the corners of the room.

The window, covered by a thin curtain woven from coarse fabric, allowed slivers of pale sunlight to seep through, illuminating specks of dust that danced lazily in the air. Outside, the rhythmic patter of rain persisted, though it had softened into a gentle drizzle.

Levi pushed himself off the bed, his steps unsteady. His eyes darted across the room until they settled on the window. As he approached the window to see the world outside, the light streaming through revealed a simple clay bowl filled with water resting on the windowsill. His gaze fell upon the bowl, and through its still surface, he caught a glimpse of his own reflection.

He leaned closer, the distorted image gradually sharpening into clarity. Crimson-red eyes burned with an intensity that seemed to pierce the soul, framed by his jet-black hair, which hung in damp, uneven strands. His pale skin contrasted sharply with the dark shadows under his eyes, remnants of the ordeal he had just endured.

Raising a trembling hand to his face, he let his fingers hover over his features. "This… is me?" he whispered, his voice barely audible over the soft crackle of the hearth. The man reflected in the water seemed like a stranger, yet he couldn't deny the truth staring back at him.

"What the f*ck, why do I have red eyes? My eyes are black! And why do I look 15 years old? I should be 21 years old. What the f*ck is going on here?" Levi Ashborn thought to himself, just as a sudden, excruciating pain exploded in his head. It felt as though thousands of sharp pins were piercing his mind, overwhelming him with agony. Clutching his temples, he stumbled back, a low groan escaping his lips.

Images and sensations began to flood his consciousness—disjointed fragments of a life he hadn't lived, yet knew with startling clarity. Memories surged forth, piecing together like a shattered mirror, each shard reflecting moments of another existence. Names, faces, places, all rushing in at once, leaving him gasping for air.

"What the actual f*ck, how in the f*cking world did I get transmigrated into this world? Even though I love this novel, I am f*cked up. If I am in this world, I don't know how many days I can live. If those elders of the clan check my soul, I am dead as f*ck." Levi clutched his head, crouching down as the overwhelming realization struck him.