The rising sun barely passed between the concrete and steel skyscrapers. I always found it fascinating how that world resembled what I had left behind, and at the same time, how it was completely different. It had been four years since I woke up in the body of this teenager. Same name, same appearance, but the weight of another life on my shoulders. The first few weeks, or perhaps months, weren’t so bad; after all, transmigrating should be something that brings benefits, right? The illusion of some kind of "golden touch" guided me for a long time. I thought that at any moment something special would happen, that somewhere deep in my soul or in my genes lay a dormant power, ready to awaken.

But that hope slowly died, like a flame extinguished without fuel. There was no magical revelation. No hidden power. Just an unrelenting reality, where I, Wuji, was just another among billions. In a world where superpowers were common, being ordinary was an invisible sentence. I did everything. I pinned my hopes on possible superpowers. I cut my own arm with knives, my wrist, hoping that my body could miraculously regenerate. The result? Blood, pain, and a scar to remind me of my stupidity. I even tried jumping off a building. I only managed to twist my ankle and got a lecture from a police officer.

It was then that the harsh truth set in. Aside from my inscrutable reincarnation, I was not special. And I doubted very much that if any power existed within me, it was well hidden, out of my reach. Now, my daily life was monotonous and predictable. I woke up before the sun, faced the crowded public transport, and went to work. Construction helper. Who would have thought? A man who came from another world, dreaming he was transported here by mysterious forces, would end up carrying bags of cement and stacking bricks.

That morning, the alarm rang at half-past five, as usual. My body reacted automatically. I turned in my makeshift bed, a mix of an old mattress and worn sheets, and turned off the alarm. My muscles were stiff and sore from the previous day, but that was expected. With each step toward the bathroom, I could feel the weight accumulated on my shoulders and legs. After a cold shower, which didn’t help much to wake me up, I put on my work uniform: worn boots, pants stained with concrete, and a t-shirt that had seen better days.

On the way to work, the subway was packed, as always. The people around me were a mix of ordinary workers and others... well, others more than ordinary. It was impossible to ignore the ‘abnormals’ in this world. The man in front of me, for example, floated his bag slightly above the ground, a few centimeters, without even realizing it. A woman with a blue glow at her fingertips typed on her cell phone, and small sparks accompanied each tap. At first, I was amazed. Now, it was just another routine sight.

Arriving at the construction site, dust already dominated the environment. Concrete trucks parked, and workers moved like ants, each one focused on their task. I, as always, was in the section with the heaviest jobs. Not that I minded too much. At the end of the day, the pay covered the rent and put food on the table, even if it was a miserable livelihood; I had come to terms with it. I carried concrete blocks for hours. Sweat dripped down my face, mixing with the dirt that was already ingrained in my skin. The boss shouted orders, and I followed them without complaint. There was no room for grievances here. We were all replaceable, especially someone like me, who had no extraordinary skills.

“Hey, Wuji! Are you going to stand there all day?” – the voice of Armin, one of my coworkers, sounded from afar. He was one of the few I exchanged words with during the day. Another orphan, but unlike me, he at least had a basic power of physical enhancement. Nothing impressive, but enough to ensure that his work was easier than mine.

“I’m coming,” I grumbled, lifting another load of bricks. My body ached with every step, but the pain was already a constant companion.

In the middle of the afternoon, as the sun blazed mercilessly over us, I sat down for a quick break. The cheap sandwich in my lunchbox, once warm, was now hard and dry, but who cared? As I ate, I watched the other workers around me. Some, like Armin, had small powers that made their work easier. Others, like me, were completely ordinary. And that was what bothered me the most. I was trapped in this cycle, invisible, powerless.

While chewing the dry bread, my mind wandered. In another world, perhaps I was doing something significant, but here... Well, my reality was much harsher. During this break, the noise of construction never ceased. The constant sound of hammers, trucks, and machines filled the air. Even the silence here was deafening.

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Sometimes I found myself watching superheroes on TV or the comics that people brought to read during lunch. They were distant, unreachable figures. I had come to think, in my first year here, that one day I might be beside them, fighting villains and protecting the innocent. What a joke. Now, four years later, I was far from that fantasy. I was just another bricklayer.

“Did you see the news today?” – Armin asked, stretching after his own meal. “One of those second-rate heroes was seriously injured downtown. Bad stuff. I heard the villain was stronger than expected.”

“Really?” – I murmured in response, not very interested. I had seen and heard so many stories like that. Heroes fighting, villains causing destruction... chaos was something common in this world. But the lives of people like me, those without any powers, were rarely the focus of attention. Just numbers, mere extras. And I knew it.

The truth is that heroes and villains were, to me, two sides of the same coin. Both caused destruction; both ignored collateral damage. The battles between them left trails of ruins and bodies. It was always left to us, the "normals," to fix what they destroyed. I increasingly resented this reality.

“You should pay more attention, Wuji. Things are getting more dangerous out there.” Armin seemed worried, which was rare. “They say some villains have been getting bolder, attacking directly in public areas.”

“I know...” – my voice was almost a grunt. I didn’t want to delve into that kind of conversation. Talking about heroes and villains only heightened my disdain for the situation I found myself in. There was no escape for me, nor for people like me. We were extras to them.

Honestly, I still held out hope for some system, perhaps some demonic or divine existence to grant me some ability, but fate is cruel.

The clock ticked on, and the break soon ended. I returned to work, lifting more concrete and stacking more bricks. It was an endless routine. But deep down, perhaps I preferred this monotony, far from the epic and destructive confrontations I had longed for. But in this monotony, I knew what to expect. I knew I would return home at the end of the day, even if my muscles screamed in pain and my mind was heavy with frustration.

As the afternoon began to drag on, the sky became overcast. The smell of rain was in the air, and all the workers quickened their pace to finish their tasks before the downpour hit. The weather forecast didn’t lie, and soon the first raindrops began to fall, wetting the dust on the ground and turning it into mud. My boots were already starting to sink into the muck when I heard a sound in the sky, something like thunder, but different. It was a rising buzz, followed by a distant boom.

I turned to look in the direction of the sound, my eyes narrowing to see through the curtain of rain that was forming. In the distance, on the city’s horizon, something was happening. A burst of blue light cut through the sky, and I could make out a flaming figure. Blue flames danced in the air as a villain, shrouded in green mist, faced off against it.

Chaos began to settle in, even from a distance. I could hear screams and see workers running in the opposite direction, dropping everything. The superhero and the villain were closing in quickly, and we all knew what that meant: destruction. Everything in their path would be obliterated.

“What the hell are they doing here?!” – one of the workers shouted, his voice filled with desperation. “This is our break time! Why can’t they fight somewhere else?”

My mind went into alert mode. It was as if the survival instinct in my body had been activated immediately. But something inside me hesitated as the sounds of battle grew closer. I knew I should run, just like everyone else, but my legs felt frozen in place. My eyes couldn’t tear away from those blue flames, from their overwhelming power. It was something superhuman, abnormal, and at the same time, completely indifferent to our existence.

More explosions echoed. A metallic crack sounded near me. When I realized it, one of the concrete columns in the parking lot gave way, cracking under the pressure of the battle unfolding not far away. The structure began to collapse, and soon iron rods and pieces of concrete were flying through the air. Blood splattered around me. I saw people being crushed, their lives ending in an instant. Horror took over. I realized how laughable my thoughts had been.

The idea that a superhero would be there to protect us quickly dissolved. There were no saviors among us. Just chaos.

The suffocating sensation of being crushed. It was the same as before. My first lament after tasting death for the first time... when my consciousness was crushed by reality itself. I felt that darkness again, an immense, endless void. How long did I stay like this? I didn’t know if there was a way to measure it. Just the pressure, suffocating, inescapable.

My vision flickered, and my body burned from the inside out. The iron lodged in my abdomen kept me pinned to the ground, the blood that should have been flowing seemed to have stopped. I didn’t know what was happening. The only thing that made sense in that fog of pain was the desperate will to not die again. I couldn't.

The sounds of battle continued in the distance, but my senses were beginning to fail. Even so, I forced myself to listen. A voice, distant, cut through the air amidst the chaos. A shrill laugh, full of disdain. My eyes barely moved, and my strength seemed to be completely draining away. But I managed to catch the sound.

“HAHAHA! Neier, Great Lord of the Flames!? HAHAHAHAHAHA, CALLS HIMSELF THE LORD OF THE FLAMES!? you’re nothing but an insect, you brat!”

The voice reverberated in my ears, once a scream, now sounding fainter. It felt like it was moving away from me. Or maybe I was moving away from it. A dizziness overtook me, and the ground began to spin. My mind was disconnecting from reality, and I knew what would come next: unconsciousness, the void. And the suffocating death.

But before I completely faded away, something arose within me. It was no longer fear. It was no longer the dread of dying or the despair of being trapped in a fragile body. It was hatred. A deep and intense hatred burned at the bottom of my soul. I didn’t know exactly where it came from, but it took over me. It wasn’t against the hero or the villain. It was against everything? Against this unjust world, against my miserable fate. Against everything I had lost, against what I had never gained.

The hatred grew, even as the oppressive void was taking hol

d. And it was the last thing I felt before finally passing out.