Marvelous Journey : A Transmigrator Journey

Flicker Buzz

A lamppost cast unsteady light into the alley, struggling against the growing darkness. Its ancient bulb flickered erratically, like a dying firefly, casting strange shadows that danced across the wet pavement. Near its base, beside an old rusty green dumpster with peeling paint and dented sides, lay a young man.

Though motionless, he wasn't dead - his chest rose and fell with steady breaths, creating small puffs of vapor in the cool air. His black jacket hung open, its zipper broken and twisted as if it had been wrenched apart, revealing a plain red shirt underneath that was damp with evening dew. Grey jeans, torn at the left calf and stained with something dark, clung to his legs. His worn shoes with splitting soles bore the marks of what must have been a difficult journey, the leather scuffed and fraying at the edges.

Scratch Squeak

From the depths of the dumpster came movement. A rat peered out, its dark eyes glinting in the unsteady light, a piece of cheese held firmly in its mouth. Whiskers twitching rapidly, it surveyed the alley with the careful precision of a creature used to surviving in the urban wilderness. Steam rose from nearby vents, creating an eerie backdrop as the rodent calculated its descent. With practiced ease born from countless similar journeys, it climbed down the dumpster's rusty side, each step deliberate and silent.

The rat paused at the bottom, nose working overtime as it assessed this unusual obstacle in its path. After a moment's consideration, it made its decision and landed with surprising gentleness on the young man's chest.

The small weight, though gentle, was enough to disturb the young man's unconscious state. As his chest rose with a deeper breath, the rat quickly scurried away, its tiny claws clicking against the concrete before it disappeared through a crack in the wall.

Groan

The young man's eyes fluttered open, immediately assaulted by the harsh glare from above. (Too bright... need to wait), he thought hazily, his eyelids squeezing shut against the piercing light. The darkness behind his closed eyes swirled and pulsed, his head throbbing in rhythm with his heartbeat. He waited, counting his breaths until the light dimmed, before trying again. This time, the flickering illumination was more bearable, though it cast disorienting shadows that made his vision swim.

His mind felt foggy, thoughts moving like slowly through his consciousness. (Where am I? What happened?). The questions echoed unanswered as he tried to piece together his situation. When he attempted to turn his head for a better look, sharp pain lanced through his neck, making him flinch and drawing a sharp intake of breath.

The pain helped clear some of the mental haze. (Focus... assess the damage first), he said to himself, forcing slow, steady breaths to stay calm. Years of some kind of training - the specifics still fuzzy in his mind - took over as he methodically checked his condition. His neck was definitely sprained, the muscles tight and resistant to movement. His left ankle, when he tried to rotate it, sent shooting pains up his leg - dislocated, he was certain. The rest of his body seemed intact, though every muscle felt leaden, his energy completely drained as if he'd run without stopping for a long time.

Knowing his body was mostly intact despite the injuries, the young man braced himself against the rough brick wall, its cold surface seeping through his damp clothes. (Need to fix this neck first), he thought, positioning his hands with practiced precision - one palm under his chin, the other on top of his head. The movement sent small jolts of pain down his spine, but he ignored them, focusing on what needed to be done.

Deep breath

The musty alley air filled his lungs as he let his body relax, mentally preparing for what came next. Decades-old garbage and wet cardboard scents mingled with the metallic tang of the dumpster. The young man steadied himself, muscles tensing slightly before he made his move. With practiced movements that spoke of previous experience, he manipulated his hands, causing his neck to snap back into proper alignment.

Crack

The sound echoed off the narrow alley walls. (Better), he thought, exhaling slowly as relief flooded through his system. Though his neck remained stiff, the sharp pain had subsided to a manageable ache. As he carefully rotated his head, testing the range of motion, he finally got a proper look at his surroundings. The alley stretched before him, about 4-5 people wide, hemmed in by weathered walls whose paint had long since surrendered to time and elements. Water stains traced dark patterns down the brickwork, and scattered pieces of trash told stories of urban neglect.

His attention shifted to his next problem. His gaze dropped to his left ankle, which had begun to swell visibly. (This is going to hurt), he thought grimly. With the same methodical care he'd shown his neck, he positioned his hands - one gripping his toes, the other firmly around his heel. Another deep breath filled his lungs as he gathered his courage, the momentary pause heavy with anticipation.

Snap

The sound of his ankle realigning was accompanied by a grunt of pain that he couldn't quite suppress. He wheezed slightly, hands trembling as he waited for the sharp ache to subside into something more manageable. Sweat beaded on his forehead despite the cool air.

(Now, where exactly-) The thought cut off as pain lanced through his head, sharp and sudden like a lightning bolt. Memories began flooding back, flashing through his mind like a broken film reel, each image crystal clear yet somehow disconnected from the next.

He'd been on a plane, heading home. The weather had turned bad suddenly, transforming what should have been a routine flight into something increasingly uncomfortable. Then everything had gone wrong - severe turbulence rocking the aircraft with violent force, passengers screaming in terror, children crying in fear.

More memories surged forward. The oxygen masks had dropped, dangling like yellow serpents from the ceiling, swaying with each violent shake of the plane. Flight attendants rushed through the cabin, their usual calm professionalism cracking under pressure as they tried to help panicking passengers.

(That's right... we were going down), he remembered, wincing at the phantom sensation of his stomach lurching as the plane had plummeted.

Flicker

The lamppost's light flickered again, drawing his attention back to the present. (But if we crashed... how am I here? And where exactly is 'here'?)