Today was the day that I planned to die.
I would not pass away peacefully like many others wished to.
No.
Because you see, the truth is, I hated Earth.
Well... maybe not the planet itself, but rather my existence on it.
For the eighteen years that I lived, I was hardly able to find joy. Making friends was always difficult for me, as every conversation I had felt unnatural. It was like I had to pretend that i shared interests with them, and I had never been a good actor.
Not only did I struggle to make friends, but I was also an Orphan. My mother had died during my birth, and my father took his life shortly afterwards.
Trust me, I'm not over-exaggerating when I say that I have lived a terrible life.
I truly might have been cursed!
Anyways. Naturally, I fell in love with a hobby. A distraction from the miseries of life. A method of escapism which allowed me to live inside of other worlds, even if only for a few hours.
And that hobby was reading.
I read all sorts of stories, ranging from classical literature works like Don Quixote to random web novels that I found online written by anonymous authors.
My favourites always ended up being the web novels. There was a passion inside of them that I struggled to find elsewhere.
Most importantly, though, they introduced me to the concepts of transmigration and reincarnation.
As a nerd, I had, of course, heard of similar terms before. However, web novels seemed to embellish such concepts and present them in ways that filled me with immense interest.
Every time I read one of the stories, I found myself thinking.
If only that were me.
And that, my friends, is what led me to take my own life.
It was a sunny morning, on a day that I would usually head to my day job. Instead, rather than taking my usual route, I had found myself standing atop a bridge on a busy highway, staring down at the cars whizzing past at 70MPH below.
I was surprised to find that I was abnormally calm. As I pressed my hand against my chest, my heart beat at a steady rate. No sweat was dripping from my forehead, and my voice was surprisingly steady as I spoke to no one in particular.
"Huh, I must really want to die."
On my back, I wore a bag filled with a printed-out copy of ten of my favourite novels. It was a childish thought, hoping that by chance, I might end up reincarnated inside of one.
But what harm was there in believing?
I already had decided that my life was no longer worth living, so why not hope to try again, but in a different world?
I laughed aloud to myself pathetically.
Tightening my grasp on my bag straps, I closed my eyes, wishing to waste no more time, lest I end up having second thoughts.
And then, after taking a deep breath in, I leapt forward.
As the wind rushed up from beneath me, I clenched my teeth, awaiting impact.
I remember thinking that I should've perhaps chosen a more painless method in taking my life.
But as seconds passed, and passed, my eyes still squeezed shut in anticipation, I suddenly realised something.
I wasn't hitting the floor.
In fact, I was no longer falling at all!
And so, like the brave man I was, I dared to open my eyes.
The sight before me filled me with immense shock.
Rather than falling to my death from a bridge in my hometown, I found myself sitting at a desk in a dimly lit room.
On the desk in front of me was a book that I didn't recognise, and on the wall above was a mirror.
I looked up at it, and the reflection that looked back at me almost caused my heart to stop.
First, I noticed my hair. It was long like a woman's, and more importantly, white like snow.
Not only was my hair more glamorous than I remembered, but my face... It was different.
I wasn't ugly before, but now, I looked like a model. I seemed to have aged five years, and my facial structure was more defined.
Then, as I stared into my now golden eyes, a strange vision popped up in front of me.
The words it read were simple. It was just a name.
Zaven Pureheart
A wave of memories suddenly filled my mind. It was a surreal feeling like I was being reborn as a new person.
My life was being rebuilt from start to present. From early childhood memories to my time growing up. With these memories came foreign information about a continent completely unfamiliar to me.
It was all so hard to sort out!
And after the process was done, and I sat there clutching at my head in agony, the realisation hit me.
I was no longer Matthew, and I certainly was no longer on earth.
"So it worked..." I muttered to myself as I stared into the mirror. Even my voice was different. "I've been transmigrated."
But this... This wasn't what I wanted. In the stories, people were usually sent to worlds from their favourite novels. Oftentimes, their luck would fail them, and they would end up as mere side characters fated to die.
My luck had taken it a step further and sent me into a world that I had never even heard of.
The thought of it began to stress me out, but I swiftly calmed myself down and went over the new information in my head.
Rising to my feet, I looked around my room to get a better understanding of my surroundings.
I was inside a cramped bedroom, which I would've guessed was in a basement, if not for the window. Beneath the night sky, I could see a cemetery scattered with ancient gravestones outside.
My mind filled in the blanks.
This is Saint Leo's Church, My deceased father, and my current home.
My mind continued to work overtime, bringing me up to speed on my circumstances.
I looked down at my clothing and found myself wearing white robes, with a golden cross pendant draped over my neck, with a bolt of lightning going through it diagonally.
My eyes turned over to the book resting on my desk. On its black leather cover was the words inscribed.
Book of Orthodox Creadism.
And finally, as I read the words, a strange block of text filled my mind. It was the most important information of it all.
My system.
[Character Menu: Zaven Pureheart]
Religion: Creadism
Denomination: Orthodox Creadist
Faith Rank: Priest (3rd)
---
[Passive Skills]
Stormblessed II:
During a thunderstorm, all lightning abilities increase by two ranks.
---
[Unique Blessing]
The Author's Ghost
[Effect Currently Unknown]
---
[Active Abilities]
» Spark ~ Launch a bolt of divine lightning from your palm. (C)
» Storm Step ~ Dash a short distance in a flash of light, evading attacks (D)
» Thunder Sheathe ~ Envelop weapon in lightning for enhanced lightning damage (C)
———
It was a lengthy system, but with each word I read, a plethora of further information flowed into my mind.
I was a Creadist. The main religion class of The Holy Empire, however during the great schism, it was sectioned off into three different denominations, which acted as subclasses.
Naturally, I was an Orthodox Creadist, meaning that I followed the traditional beliefs of the religion, but there were also the Reformists and the Esoterics
Being part of a religion granted me many different abilities. Flowing through my body was the power to channel lightning, as was the way of the Orthodox Creadists. The other denominations of Creadism were granted other forms of magic, related specifically to their beliefs.
However, a more important area of my system stood out to me. My Unique Blessing.
Author's Ghost.
As I read over the words, something told me to look down at the floor of my chambers. There, I found a small bowl, with a knife laid across the top.
Having the memories of Morenzo, I somehow knew what he had planned to do with the knife and bowl.
It was related to my Unique Blessing, and something told me that if I followed through with it, my time in this world would be made a lot easier.
I stared down at the knife, battling with the thoughts that were running through my head.
...
Really... You want to risk killing yourself already?
...
...
...
"Ahh, to hell with it!"
I gave Morenzo what he wanted, lifting the knife in a tight grip and slicing it across my left palm.
"Shit!" I winced from the pain.
Blood instantly began to well up. A bit too much blood, but I held my hand above the bowl and allowed it to drip inside.
It was a painful, tedious process, but I waited for the wound to dry up. By the time it had, the bowl was filled about halfway.
I hoped that whatever was supposed to happen wasn't waiting for me to fill it to the rim.
But moments later, it became clear that I wasn't.
As though the window was wide open, a sudden gust of wind blew around the room, sending chills through my body. The wind troubled the blood in the bowl, and then in moments, it became visible and began to form into a figure above the bowl.
I couldn't believe what I was seeing.
It was some sort of ritual!
I continued to watch in awe as the wind worked its magic before, finally, the figure of a translucent woman hovered above the bowl like a ghost.
The Author's Ghost.
The woman looked around the room with a smile on her face, and then her eyes landed on me.
All I could do was watch her with my jaw open, as she opened her ethereal mouth to talk.
"Hello, Zarnevo Pureheart. I'm guessing you are the Transmigrator that I have been expecting?"