The First Transmigrat

[Day 800]

I opened the transmigration group chat panel today.

A single floating screen, pale blue against the green forest canopy, appeared with a familiar emptiness. The silence of the panel was more deafening than any beast's roar. No new messages. No new names.

Just the one line I had typed over and over again, in different moods and moments, but never once received a reply to.

Still alive.

I sent it again.

I don't even know why anymore. Habit, maybe. Hope, maybe. Desperation, possibly.

I closed the panel with a flick of my finger. The window dissolved into the humid air like it had never been there.

Every day, my memories of Earth grow fainter.

My parents' faces, once etched into my heart, are little more than vague silhouettes now. I remember my mother smiling at me once—her lips moved, but I can't recall what she said. My father's laugh, once deep and proud, echoes in fragments, like a broken melody.

Even my name feels strange on my tongue.

I am the only one from the beginning. The first name on the panel. The first one dropped into this world, naked, alone, confused, and terrified. And still here.

I don't know if that will change. I don't know if someone else will ever reply. But I hope… I hope they do.

Because if I'm truly alone… then what's the point?

[Day 810]

The training never ends.

Day after day, hour after hour—I repeat the same actions. Walk. Stretch. Swing my arm. Turn my neck. Run. Fall. Get up. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.

I have power beyond comprehension. Strength that cracks stone. Speed that splits the wind. But I can't use it properly. Not without hurting myself. Not without breaking bones I didn't mean to bend.

Every step forward feels like dragging myself through sludge.

I can't even say I've exhausted myself—because I haven't. No matter how much I train, a few hours of rest is enough. My body restores itself almost perfectly, like a machine. It's not my stamina that's lacking. It's something deeper.

Control. Mastery. Harmony.

Sometimes I think I'm going mad. Doing the same movements a thousand times, hoping something will suddenly click.

It doesn't.

But slowly… slowly… things are changing.

At first, I couldn't even walk straight without stumbling into trees. Now, I can run without breaking the ground beneath my feet. I started with small movements—lifting my arm, turning my wrist, trying to feel the muscle under the skin.

At first, it felt like my body belonged to someone else. Like I was wearing a beast's flesh, and it didn't want to obey.

But over time, I began to sync with it.

The key, I think, was letting go of my old self.

I kept trying to walk the way I used to. Move the way I did before I absorbed the snake's core. But that was a mistake. That version of me—that human—died the moment I ate the serpent's power.

This is a new body.

A new being.

And it's not my job to make it adapt to my habits.

It's my job to adapt to it.

[Day 850]

I've changed.

I feel it in the way the forest watches me.

The beasts don't run anymore.

Before, they would scatter at the first sign of me—bolt into the shadows like frightened prey. But now… they stay. They stand still. They lower their heads, eyes locked to mine, and then slowly back away.

I'm no longer prey.

I'm something else now.

A predator that doesn't need to hunt.

A presence they acknowledge.

That realization hit me hard. I stood at the edge of the forest for a long while, staring out at the trees and listening to the rain tapping against the leaves. The world has accepted my evolution before I have.

That night, I went out alone and looked at the stars.

They were dazzling. Far brighter than Earth's, scattered like diamonds across an ink-black sky. They shimmered like they knew something I didn't.

But I still preferred Earth's.

Even if I could barely remember them.

My parents' faces are foggy now. My friends' voices, once full of laughter and banter, feel like echoes from a past life. I remember watching anime, reading comics, devouring web novels, getting obsessed with cultivation lore, and dreaming about worlds like this one.

Funny how all those dreams feel so small now.

I feel close to that old life… and yet so distant from it.

And the questions keep spinning in my mind:

Why did the system choose me?

Why was I the first?

Will anyone ever follow?

Can I even return to Earth?

Would my parents still be alive when I do?

How long will it take?

Am I still human?

Or am I something else entirely now?

[Day 894]

I've made my decision.

I don't know what lies ahead. I don't know if I'll ever return to Earth. I don't know if I'll ever see another human again.

But I won't let the uncertainty paralyze me anymore.

I've spent too long wondering. Waiting. Hoping.

So I'll move forward—with all my strength, with all my fears, with all my questions still unanswered.

I'll move forward as I am.

A coward.

A freak.

A beast in human skin.

A man who doesn't know his own face anymore.

I'll do what I want. I'll carve a path, even if it's through blood and bone and madness. I will live in this world without regret.

If I can't return, I'll make my mark here.

If no one else comes, I'll be the first and the last.

And if I do make it home one day, I'll return not as a broken boy, but as something the world can never forget.

I don't care what this world throws at me.

I will be me.

That night, I slept in the cave—alone, again.

But this time, I didn't feel like I was waiting for something.

I felt clear.