In a pitch-black room, where not a single shape could be seen, a young man, around 19 or 20, lay on a strange bed that barely above the ground. He slept soundly, completely unaware of the world, his breathing calm and even. The darkness seemed to swallow him whole, wrapping him in a false sense of safety. 

But then, without warning, his eyes shot open. The peace he had been in shattered, replaced by confusion and a growing unease. Something wasn’t right. His heart began to race as he lay there, trying to make sense of the overwhelming blackness around him.

He quickly turned his head, searching the darkness around him, but there was nothing—just endless, suffocating blackness. Panic rose in his chest as confusion clouded his mind. 

Where was he? What was happening? His heart thudded loudly, his breath quickening as fear began to take hold. He tried to move, to make sense of his surroundings, but then, out of nowhere, a sharp pain exploded in his head. 

It felt like his skull was being crushed, splitting in two with the force of it. His hands flew to his temples, but it only made the pain worse. He wanted to scream, to cry out for help, but the agony was too overwhelming. No sound escaped his mouth, and before he could even grasp what was happening, the darkness closed in on him again. The pain was too much to bear, and his body gave in, falling unconscious.

Hours later, light slowly began to creep into the room. The heavy darkness that had swallowed everything seemed to retreat, revealing the surroundings. The walls were made of black stone, dark and smooth, almost as if they were drinking in the faint light that filtered through a small window near the high ceiling. 

The dim glow barely touched the cold stone, making the room feel even more oppressive. At the far end, a door stood—just as black as the walls, with only a small barred window near the top. It offered no glimpse of what lay beyond, only the hint of something, or someone, watching. The room felt more like a cage than a place to rest.

As the light seeped into the dim room, the young man slowly began to wake. He stretched, yawning and rubbing his eyes, before glancing up at the unfamiliar ceiling. Confusion flickered briefly in his mind, but it quickly faded. He sat up on the strange bed, taking in his surroundings. The room was bare, nothing more than a small space with a corner designated for a toilet. It was cold, empty, and isolated. A heavy sigh escaped him as memories—memories that weren’t his—began to surface. 

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The memories that flooded his mind weren’t his own, but they were unmistakably real. They belonged to another young man—someone who shared his name, Ewan, and whose age was almost identical to his, 18 years old. It felt as though he had somehow merged with this person, as if their lives had collided in an inexplicable way. The more he tried to focus on these memories, the more they blurred with his own, leaving him with an overwhelming sense of confusion. 

He couldn’t understand how this had happened. What happened to his real self? Did he die in his sleep, only to awaken in this new body? The thought of transmigrating, of having his consciousness forced into someone else’s life, was the only conclusion he could come to. It seemed impossible, but the more he thought about it, the more it felt like the only explanation for his situation.

The Ewan whose memories now filled his mind had lived a life of deep sorrow. At just 13 years old, he was sold by his parents to slavers. The drought that ravaged the land had made food scarce, and prices had skyrocketed, making survival harder for everyone. His family’s crops had failed, and with nothing to feed themselves, they were left with a terrible choice. They had a 2-year-old son to feed, Ewan’s little brother, and to ensure the survival of the younger child, they sold Ewan to the slavers. 

After being sold to the slavers, Ewan was taken far away from the kingdom where his parents lived. It wasn’t just a long journey—it was to a completely different continent, a land that was foreign and unknown to him. He arrived with hundreds of other slave children, most of whom were even younger than him. The journey had been long and brutal, the slavers showing no mercy to the children they transported like cattle. 

Upon arriving in this foreign land, Ewan was placed in isolation, as were all the other slaves. They were kept in separate, confined spaces, away from any form of companionship or comfort. Each day was a blur of grueling labor, as the slavers gave them tasks that forced them to learn new skills—skills they never imagined they would have to learn. 

From basic carpentry to cooking, to handling dangerous tools, they were pushed to adapt quickly, or suffer the consequences. The work was exhausting, physically demanding, and mentally draining, but it was the only way to survive in this harsh new world. 

Ewan’s body was also pushed to its physical limits. The slavers made sure of that, forcing him to train relentlessly. His muscles grew lean and defined, and over time, he developed a strength and endurance he never thought possible. His face, too, became strikingly handsome, something that caught the eye of the slavers. They saw potential in him—potential to be sold at a high price. He was not just another slave; he was an asset to be auctioned to the nobles.