The First Transmigrat

Kaiser tugged his coat tighter against the cold as he stepped outside, the sun hanging low in the sky. The air was crisp, heavy with the scent of dry soil and pine from the nearby woods. The walk to the grocery stores was uneventful. A few carts passed him, people chatted about harvests and winter preparations, but none gave him a second glance.

Good. That was how he preferred it.

He had a list in his mind: leather, ink, brushes, binding material, a few pigments he could modify into dyes. There was no cultivation shop, no talismanic market or alchemist's corner—this was still a mundane world, after all. So he improvised. Makeshift resources, transformed through vision and necessity.

When he returned to his small house, the sun had dipped behind the hills. The sky turned the color of fading embers, and the evening wind stirred the dried leaves around his feet. He pushed open the wooden door, set down his supplies, and let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding.

He sat cross-legged on the floor, ink and leather spread before him. The tools of a madman, maybe. Or a pioneer.

His thoughts wandered as they often did now, untethered by linear goals. A single human. One body. One mind. How far could he go?

"Just limiting my path to one species," he muttered aloud, "that's foolish."

In this vast world, filled with countless beings—why should he restrict himself to humanity? It wasn't arrogance. It was practicality. If divinity was his aim, he needed all the help he could get. One race, even if it reached its peak, would always be a speck compared to the unified potential of millions of species. Beasts, insects, birds, aquatic creatures, even sentient plants or spirit-born lifeforms—each could offer a different path, a new way forward.

"I can use their strengths, their perspectives, their needs," he whispered. "They walk different paths… but all of them can converge."

He stared at the blank leather sheet.

Old cultivation paths clung to traditions: bloodlines, sects, heritage, spiritual roots traced back to some long-dead dragon or divine turtle. He'd read about it all in his past life. Thousands of MTL'd chapters downloaded and devoured with a numb mind and flickering screen light. It was always the same. The noble-born soared. The trash-born crawled.

But Kaiser had transcended humanity. Literally. He wasn't a boy wasting time on light novels anymore. He was something more.

This wasn't just about becoming strong.

It was about building a path.

"A path open to all who dare to walk it," he said to himself.

The idea energized him. If he could build a system that allowed anyone—be it human, beast, or otherwise—to cultivate, then those who followed his path would empower him in return. It was mutual. Symbiotic. And if even a fraction of the world chose to follow—

He would become unstoppable.

But before any of that… he needed a language.

He'd been working on it in scraps, half-muttering to himself, jotting down experimental symbols on corners of pages. Now, for the first time, he committed to it.

He began sketching the characters.

He took inspiration from everything he knew. Sanskrit's flowing divinity, Tamil's ancient rigidity, Chinese's layered meaning, Japanese's minimalism, Korean's logical structure, English's phonetic adaptability. He merged elements from the language he'd heard in the endless forest—sharp, primal—and the local dialects he'd picked up here.

One by one, he formed the first strokes.

They weren't perfect. Hell, most weren't even pretty. But they were functional. His language needed to be learnable by more than humans. That meant stripping down complexity, focusing on meaning before form.

He created tones for sound. Visuals for concept. And symbols for power.

Naming things came next. The stars, the sky, the cosmos, lightning, wind, earth, fire. He gave them names—not borrowed names from Earth, but names that felt right in this world. The act of naming itself was… thrilling. Almost divine.

This was more than communication. It was the start of something foundational. Sacred.

He could feel it in his bones.

Still, it wasn't easy.

Even with his superhuman perception and years of experience, building something from nothing tested him in ways battle never had. There were no shortcuts. No cheat codes. No system prompts offering assistance.

He leaned back, sore from hours of crouching, and smiled.

It was coming together.

A language. A path. A cultivation system that transcended tradition, species, and even logic.

But…

There was more.

In his past life, he remembered people mocking the idea of immortality. "What's the point of living forever if you're alone?" they'd say. "You'll lose all your emotions, all your ties."

Blah. Blah.

Kaiser looked at the faint reflection of himself in the window glass. His eyes glowed faintly golden in the moonlight.

"I don't want to be alone either," he admitted softly.

But he didn't fear loneliness. What he feared… was stagnation. A meaningless eternity.

That's why this mattered. That's why the cultivation path he forged couldn't be limited to a single race or culture. He wanted the world to rise with him. He wanted a path that welcomed followers. That gave anyone—regardless of birth, species, or soul origin—a chance to try.

It wouldn't be easy.

But if it worked… he would never be alone.

He would never stagnate.

He would keep moving forward—pushed by the dreams of others, pulled by his own ambition, and supported by a path that grew beneath his feet with every step.

"I will create a world that is fair," he whispered. "One that offers opportunity to anyone brave enough to take it."

A world where immortality wasn't some hoarded secret. Where it wasn't chained behind bloodlines or ancient sects. Where anyone—anyone—could reach out and grasp truth.

That was his vision.

He looked down at the scrolls and symbols he'd etched.

This wasn't a finished system. It wasn't even stable. But it was a first step. A beginning. And that was more than most ever dared to take.

He clenched his fists.

"In this aimless life of mine, I have finally found a purpose."

He stood up, his body still sore, his mind still racing.

"I will march toward it relentlessly."

His voice was steady now.

"I won't give up. Not again. Not ever."

And in that quiet, moonlit room, filled with ink-stained pages and scraps of leather, Kaiser made a promise to himself.

"If I can… I'll return to my parents someday."

The words hung in the air like a vow. Not dramatic. Not shouted. Just quietly, stubbornly true.

He didn't know if he would ever see them again. If they even existed in the timeline his memories now blurred. But he would try.

He would try his best.

And sometimes, that was all that mattered.