Lord of mysterious Gamer

Chapter 1: A Shocking Transition

The peal of thunder rattled the windows of Dipak's small apartment. Rain lashed against the panes as he hunched over his desk, cramming for tomorrow's physiology exam. His phone, plugged into the wall socket, chimed with a weather alert.

"Severe thunderstorm warning," Dipak muttered, swiping the notification away. "No kidding."

He reached for his phone, fingers brushing the charging cable. In that instant, a blinding flash filled the room, followed by a deafening crack. Pain seared through Dipak's body, every nerve aflame. Then, darkness.

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Dipak's eyes snapped open, a scream caught in his throat. His head throbbed with excruciating pain, as if his skull were being split open. Blinking hard, he realised he was lying on the floor, the memory of the lightning strike still vivid in his mind. Panic surged through him as he tried to move, his limbs heavy and unresponsive.

As his vision cleared, Dipak noticed something odd about the room. It wasn't his small, cluttered apartment. The walls were old and worn, and the furniture looked like something out of a period drama. His heart raced as he took in the surroundings, recognition dawning on him. This was Klein Moretti's room—from the first 30 chapters of *Lord of the Mysteries* that he had read after watching the trailer.

His breath hitched as he spotted the pool of blood on the floor, seeping into the worn wooden boards. His own clothes were soaked in it, the sticky liquid clinging to his skin. Horror gripped him as he pushed himself up, hands slipping in the crimson puddle.

"What... what is this?" he gasped, but the voice that came out wasn't his own. It was lower, raspier, as if it belonged to someone else.

Dipak's heart pounded as he scanned the room again, looking for something—anything—that could explain what was happening. His gaze landed on a small notebook lying on the desk, its pages filled with scrawled notes. The sight of it sparked another memory—this was Klein's diary, the one he'd kept as he delved deeper into the world of the supernatural.

The room's musty smell clung to the back of Dipak's throat, the air thick with the scent of old wood and something metallic. His mind whirled, struggling to reconcile the images around him with the sharp pain that still lanced through his skull.

Suddenly, a translucent screen appeared before his eyes, filling him with both dread and curiosity.

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Name: Klein Moretti (Dipak)

Age: 22

Sequence: N/A

Spiritual Power: 5%

System Points: 0/5

Strength:6

Agility:5

Constitution:7

Intelligence: 8

Spirituality: 3

Luck:?

Skills:

- Talisman Making (Novice)

- History (Intermediate)

- Occult Knowledge (Beginner)

---

Dipak blinked hard, but the screen remained. His mind reeled, trying to make sense of what he was seeing.

The realisation hit him like a physical blow. He'd died. Somehow, he'd been reincarnated into a fictional world, and not at a good moment.

He couldn't afford to panic now—he needed to clean up and think clearly. His priority was to eliminate any traces of blood in the room before the landlord or anyone else could notice.

He scanned the room, eyes searching for something to clean with. The worn floorboards creaked beneath his feet as he moved, their surface rough under his fingertips. The dim light from a flickering candle cast long shadows across the room, highlighting the age and neglect in every corner.

Spotting a small closet, he opened it and found a few old, threadbare clothes. They weren't ideal, but they would have to do. He grabbed one of the white shirts and made his way towards the bathroom.

The bathroom was small and dingy, the tiles cracked and stained from years of neglect. He approached the sink cautiously, turning the tap on just enough to let a thin stream of water flow out. The faint trickle was much quieter than a full gush, but enough to soak the shirt.

As he cleaned himself, the reality of the blood in the bathroom began to weigh on him. His mind raced, trying to come up with an explanation in case someone found out. He couldn't let anyone know what had really happened.

"What if I say I injured myself?" he thought, his gaze falling on his arm, which was still stained with drying blood. "If they ask, I could claim I accidentally cut myself with a pencil cutter while I was half-asleep."

The idea was plausible enough, and it might explain the blood in the bathroom. But the cut would need to look believable. His thoughts darted to Klein's memories—injuries and how they might be received in this world. He decided to go with the story, hoping it would be convincing if he needed it.

Satisfied that the noise wasn't too loud, Dipak shut off the water and wrung out the shirt until it was just damp enough. He looked at himself in the cracked mirror above the sink, wincing at the sight. His clothes were stained with blood, his face pale and strained. Moving quickly, he stripped off his clothes and used the damp shirt to clean the blood from his body. The cold water stung against his skin, but he scrubbed away the worst of it, trying to get rid of the sticky, drying blood.

He couldn't afford to leave any trace of the night's events, not on his body, not in the room.

Once he was reasonably clean, he wiped the sink down and bundled up the bloodied shirt, hiding it in a corner of the bathroom for now. He'd have to deal with it later. The last thing he wanted was to clog the drain or leave evidence of the blood anywhere.

Returning to the main room, Dipak's headache flared up again, but he gritted his teeth and pushed through it. There was still blood on the floor, and he needed to get it cleaned up before it dried and became even harder to remove. He grabbed another cloth from the closet, this one an old handkerchief, and dipped it in the water left in the bathroom sink.

Carefully, he began scrubbing the floor, trying to erase the bloodstains as best he could. The room was dimly lit, but he worked meticulously, wiping down every inch of the floor that had been touched by the blood. The task was gruelling, his muscles aching with the effort, and the constant fear of being discovered made his hands tremble.

He worked for what felt like hours, the repetitive motion of scrubbing the floor almost hypnotic. The bloodstains were stubborn, and no matter how hard he tried, faint traces remained. The smell of the damp cloth mixed with the lingering metallic scent of blood made his stomach churn, but he kept going.

Finally, he leaned back on his heels, breathing heavily. The room wasn't spotless, but it was clean enough that anyone walking in wouldn't immediately notice anything amiss. He tossed the soiled cloth into a corner, planning to dispose of it in the morning.

Exhaustion hit him like a wave, his headache returning with a vengeance. He knew he needed to rest, to sleep and regain some strength. But as he looked around the room, his mind kept racing. What was he supposed to do next? How was he supposed to survive in this world, with only the knowledge from the first 30 chapters of *Lord of the Mysteries*?

Dipak stumbled over to the bed, his legs trembling with exhaustion. He collapsed onto the thin mattress, the springs creaking in protest. The musty scent of old fabric filled his nostrils as his mind buzzed with questions and fears. But his body, still adjusting to its new form, was too drained to keep pace with his racing thoughts. As he lay there, the headache pulsing behind his eyes like a second heartbeat, he tried to plan his next move.

"Status," he whispered, squinting at the translucent screen that appeared.

Spiritual Power: 7%

System Points: 0/5

Health: Critical

Warning: Continued exertion may result in unconsciousness

His Spiritual Power had risen to 7%, but he was too tired to make sense of it now. Tomorrow, he thought, he'd need to figure out how to use this system to survive in Klein's dangerous world.

His eyelids grew heavy, and despite the fear gnawing at him, sleep crept up on him quickly. His last thought before he drifted off was that he needed to be ready for whatever came next. The next day would bring new challenges, and he needed to be prepared.

But for now, he slept, hoping that rest would clear his mind and ease the pain in his head.

When I am writing my other fanfiction, then this idea came to me 😁.