If someone asked me how it all started, I'd probably blame the vending machine.
I wanted chips—it gave me a soda. I shook it, and it splashed its white, thick, fizzy, slippery liqui—
Ahem, right, forgot this isn't that kind of R-18 story.
Anyway, blinded by sugar-foam betrayal, I stumbled back onto the road.
A truck came straight at me.
And nothing happened.
This wasn't one of those stories where I just die like an idiot.
Thanks to my highly athletic, acrobatic, totally anime-protagonist-worthy reflexes, I did two backflips and dodged the truck like a pro… only to flip over the metal railing and dive straight into the lake below.
And mind you, the lake was dry... yeah, no water at all.
Now that I think about it… the logic's kind of wobbly.
Doesn't suit the plot at all, does it?
So, how do I actually begin the story of my transmigration?
Let's go with this:
"SOMEONE HELP!" I screamed with every fiber of my lungs. My palms pressed against something solid—rough, unpainted wood.
Not your usual 'isekai intro.'
More like... being buried alive in a coffin.
'I'm literally about to die, yet my chuuni, fourth-wall-breaking syndrome decides now is the time to awaken?' I muttered between ragged breaths, my hands flailing in the tight space, thudding against the curved walls—which felt more like a damn egg than a coffin.
Egg?
And in that moment, as if a small electric current jump-started my brain cells, realization dawned:
I was inside an egg.
'Shit,' I huddled forward, pressing my ear against the inner wall, trying to catch sounds from outside.
The texture, the hardness, the curved shape... it made too much sense.
"...Arg...rgh...humans...kill...the..."
A faint scream, distorted, barely reaching me.
I strained to hear.
BOOM!
"What!?—haah, what the hell—"
A blast rocked the shell, knocking me into the side of my prison.
Grabbing both walls with my palms, I felt the whole thing lurch and tilt like a stuck roller coaster.
Swish—
Suddenly, a sharp sword strike sliced through the head of the egg.
Light poured in like a slap to the face.
The hard shell cracked open, falling away like a busted can.
For a moment, I felt the same kind of panic one might feel when seeing a light in the night after an intimate fight with another man's wife, who is now arriving at the door.
What would one feel at that time?
Yeah. Pure, unfiltered terror.
Because whatever could slice this egg open definitely wasn't friendly.
The lid of the egg snapped forward like a flipped coin, flying through the air.
And that's when I saw it.
The world outside was on fire.
No, seriously. Everything was burning.
Through a haze of smoke and flame, I saw a man wielding a glowing sword, stabbing a lizard-like, two-legged human.
"Fall, beasts! Your witchcraft is no match for the Sword of Heaven!" he roared.
The lizard gasped, wand slipping from his clawed hand.
"You... you broke the sky... you broke everything..."
And he crumpled.
'Am I on a movie set?'
Humans sliced down lizard men left and right, their swords glowing, trailing streaks of energy through the smoke.
No, this wasn't Scar farts.
Definitely not.
ZWOOoooo!
A sharp whistling sound ripped past me, followed by—
BOOM!
Explosions rocked the sky.
Jets—actual firefighting jets—tried to douse the flames, while fighter planes twisted overhead like wasps on crack, bombing the chaos below.
'Wait, something's wrong...'
Squinting through the insanity, something clicked.
The way the humans moved, the way the swords gleamed, the flow of battle—
It tickled that part of my brain finely tuned by years of drinking web novels, eating manhwa series, and farting poorly animated anime of those legendary manhwas.
'Cultivators?!'
Cultivators—robes flowing, weapons flashing—fought desperately against lizard men, blood splattering like it was shot on a Michael Bay budget.
Three worlds smashed together: a fantasy, a sci-fi thriller, and a xianxia novel... all blended into one bad acid trip.
Definitely the work of a dumbass author who's gonna mess up the execution.
And me?
I slowly, painstakingly, awkwardly climbed out of the egg.
One leg at a time.
My muscles felt like they hadn't worked in centuries, and for a minute, I almost fell face-first into a pile of burnt lizard guts.
Standing up, wobbling like a newborn foal, I took in the scene before me.
'...I need to get the hell out of here,' my mind screamed.
The metallic stench of blood, the choking smoke, the sight of towering cities half-collapsed under an angry sky—it all clawed at my senses.
Floating platforms, broken skyscrapers, and fire—
This wasn't just a battlefield.
It was the end of someone's world.
I blinked once. Twice.
And I was coming out of an egg in this world's end.
My mouth flapped uselessly, like a fish gasping for meaning.
'This... this isn't just my illusion, man.'
I staggered back, vertigo punching my gut, when suddenly—
A human warrior in battered armor, face streaked with blood, stabbed a lizard man right in front of me.
With a grunt, he flung the corpse aside like dirty laundry.
The body skidded to a stop right next to my egg.
And I finally noticed—
A broken beaker nearby, smoking, boiling water inside.
Bits of my eggshell floating in it.
Boiling.
Cooking.
'These bastards were boiling my egg!? Was I supposed to be breakfast or something!?'
For a fleeting second, I thought maybe I'd been reborn as some lizard prince or dragon baby.
But nah.
First, no one boils their own children's eggs, and second, I looked down at myself.
Panic exploded inside me like a bag of popcorn—delayed popcorn.
Jerking my hand up, I stared at it, expecting clawed talons or green scales or something eldritch.
Nope.
Normal fingers.
Skin color?
Also humanly—no racism.
...except for the faintest shimmer of translucent scales, glistening and vanishing, almost absorbed into the skin like some bad CG.
"Phew. False alarm," I sighed, lowering my hand—
And felt something.
Something moving.
Behind me.
I slid my hand cautiously down my back... and landed on something thick. Slimy. Moving.
That's definitely not someone's dic—
So, it was....
My butt.
My fingers roamed all over my butt, moving to my waist.
I definitely do not have a butt fetish.
At least not for male butts.
A tail.
A goddamn tail.
"WAIT, WAIT, WAIT, HOLD THE HELL UP!"
Spinning wildly, tail flailing like a possessed snake, one thing became crystal clear:
I was not 100% human anymore.
As I tried to mentally reboot—
wiping imaginary tears from my sanity—
A figure strode forward out of the smoke.
Blood-slick hair. Wild eyes. Sword dragging in one hand, tongue licking the blade with a sick, gleeful glint.
Eyes gleaming, he pointed straight at me, a slow grin stretching across his face.
"Ohhh~ A half-human... half-lizard," he crooned, the way a cat croons when it finds a crippled mouse.
Fwip!
A dagger flashed through the air—whistling past my poor, innocent, future-child-making equipment.
It embedded itself an inch below from my precious assets as my body was propped back on the boiling pot.
Miraculously, I didn't feel any heat at all; instead, I just turned my head down.
I stared at the dagger.
Then at my dick—I was naked, bare, nude.
'What the hell with the size!?'
But life first.
Then at the psycho.
My brain did the only logical thing it could:
"I VOLUNTEER AS A VIRGIN, PLEASE SPARE ME!"