I struggle to open my eyes and see a beautiful girl dressed in dazzling attire. Her skin glowed under the blinding sunlight. I could barely see the sun—it was so bright. My head was spinning. I hadn't felt this groggy since I got hit with that concussion grenade during the mission to kill the ambassador.
Her voice was heavenly and soft. Her delicate brown hands gently ran over my face. She was dressed—or perhaps "dressed" isn't quite the right word—in what appeared to be a white cloth wrapped around her waist and groin, with not much else except what looked like a silk bra. If you could even call it that—it was simply a piece of silk wrapped around her supple breasts. Her light brown skin reminded me of chocolate, and her body was adorned with jewelry and pearls. A ruby necklace circled her forehead, matched by a red ruby tiara nestled in her short brown hair.
"Are you one of my 72 virgins?" I asked in a dazed, lucid tone.
She smiled, her teeth unnaturally white, and her bright green eyes sparkled with amusement. "Well, I'm not sure how to answer that exactly..." she said with a laugh.
"Ahhh," I sighed. "I must be in heaven," I proclaimed, pulling her in one smooth motion and nestling my head against her bosom. "Thank you, Magnus—or whatever your fucking name is," I murmured, my voice muffled against her chest.
I was in pure bliss for what felt like an eternity. She smelled of lilac and coconut, with what I believed was a hint of vanilla. I never thought it could feel this good to be dead. If I had known, I might've taken my own miserable life a long time ago.
Our embrace lasted until a sharp kick to my side snapped me back to reality. Pain surged through my body, reminding me that I was, in fact, very much alive. The force of the blow sent me tumbling against the sand wall.
"You pervert! Arrest this man! He assaulted the princess!"
I finally opened my eyes fully and saw a massive woman towering above me, partially armored. She wore a similar cloth around her groin as the princess, but her chest was protected by golden plate armor. Two even larger men appeared behind her, holding spears. They grabbed me, yanking me to my feet and pressing my arms behind my back.
I tried to resist, but my legs felt like jelly. The men picked me up aggressively and began carrying me down a long hallway. The walls were lined with strange paintings and inscriptions, and torches lit up as we passed them.
"Get the fuck off me!" I shouted, struggling against them. One of them struck me in the stomach with the shaft of his spear, forcing bile up my throat.
They led me down a winding staircase made entirely of sand, then opened a cell and tossed me inside. My back slammed against what felt like pavement or solid sand—I couldn't tell which. All I knew was it sent a chill up my spine.
"Fuck you!" I yelled, picking myself up and charging toward the man who threw me like a ragdoll. But just before I could reach him, the black iron door slammed shut and locked.
I flipped them off, shouting slurs I wasn't even proud of—and that's saying something, considering I kill people for a living. They laughed and mocked me as they walked back up the stairs.
Yep. Definitely not heaven. This must be hell.
I shook my head. "What was I expecting? I should've known trusting that magical orb-looking thing was too good to be true."
As I wiped my hands on my pants, I noticed something strange. These weren't the orange parachute pants the prison issued me. And my shirt wasn't the same itchy white tee either.
"Did that damn orb change my clothes to help me fit into this new world?" I muttered, lifting the soft fabric to reveal my muscular chest. My body felt different—refreshed. The aches from my arthritis, developed from years of brutal training, were gone.
Instead of feeling broken, I was brimming with energy—just like I did in my twenties. Granted, I was only thirty-three, but multiple stab wounds and bullet grazes had made my body a mess. I ran my fingers over my skin, searching for scars. There weren't any. Not a single imperfection marked my newly pristine white skin. In fact, I looked too perfect.
Then I noticed black ink on my right hand—words written in a foreign language. I pulled up my beige cotton shirt to reveal more of the strange markings, running up my forearm and bicep. I rolled up the sleeve to my shoulder and was shocked to see a tattoo of what looked like a peacock. Now curious, I checked the rest of my body.
There were five more tattoos: a fat pig on my left ankle, a goat on my inner thigh, a turtle on my left arm, a snake coiling around my right leg, and a fox on my chest. Each was accompanied by strange black letters.
The sound of trickling water snapped me back. I turned to see a white porcelain sink with a glowing blue crystal suspended above it. I cautiously approached and touched the crystal. It whistled softly before spewing water into the basin below.
I ran my hand under the stream—cold, but refreshing in the heat.
It felt like I'd been roasting since I arrived. I had to be in a desert; nowhere else would it still be this hot, even underground. I splashed the water over my face and ran wet hands through my hair.
Then I gasped.
"Holy shit... I am in my twenties."
I leaned over the water to get a better look at my reflection. I'd felt the breeze on my face and figured my beard was gone, but I hadn't realized how much I'd changed. I had no wrinkles, no stress lines from the hazards of my old profession. I pushed my silky black hair out of my face and ran my fingers along my smooth jaw and cheeks.
"This is insane..." I whispered.
All the scars from my early training were gone. This wasn't just a reversal of age. This was a completely new body—a clean slate.
I looked over my shoulder and saw more black ink there too. Whatever tattoo was on my back extended downward, but without a mirror, I couldn't tell what it was. I'd have to wait until someone told me—once I figured out how to get out of here.
"Magnum Opium wasn't lying—this world really is different," I said.
I noticed a twin-sized mattress in the corner, made from cowhide and feathers. "Wow. This place is way better than that shithole of a prison I was in." I laughed, pressing my hands into the soft leather.
They even gave me a pillow. This might as well be a five-star hotel in comparison. I plopped down, and the mattress swayed before stabilizing itself. Curious, I reached under the bed to check what held it up, realizing earlier I hadn't seen any legs.
Just as I thought—another magical stone, this one purple, unlike the blue one above the sink. Gravity and water magic, maybe? Just a guess.
Suddenly I felt a sharp pain in my stomach. It growled and grumbled violently. Yeah, I was going to need a toilet real soon. I scanned the room.
Nothing. No toilet in sight.
I eyed the white porcelain sink. No way.
But just as I shuffled over to it, I noticed a shallow dip in the floor—and a brown bucket tipped on its side next to it.
I instantly knew what it was for—and it wasn't collecting water.
"Shit. I take it back. This is definitely still a prison cell," I muttered, setting the bucket upright and squatting over it. As I finally began to relieve myself, I heard snickering from outside the bars.
It was the two guards who had carried me in.
I was about to snap and reach through the bars when a loud shriek made me freeze.
"Why are you relieving yourself in a mop bucket right next to the restroom? I knew it! No matter what the princess says about your disorientation after the summoning, you're just a perverted, tormented man," the large woman scolded with disgust.
Her voice sent chills down my spine, andembarrassment burned my face. I stumbled to stand up, reaching back to brace myself—but the sand tile shifted under my weight, and I fell.
To my surprise, my back didn't hit a wall—it hit the floor.
Blinking, dazed, I found myself in a small 5x5 room with a glowing orb on the ceiling. I looked up in frustration—and there it was.
A porcelain toilet. Next to it, a stand holding a roll of soft-looking cotton fiber paper.
"Awww, shit..." I sighed. " This small room was definitely the bathroom."