"Huff… huff…"
Allen's chest rose and fell violently as his lungs burned, each breath scraping his throat like shattered glass.
What's happening?
His mind refused to process the scene before him. Thoughts came slowly, as if dragged through mud. His head throbbed with a dull, overwhelming pain, pressing against his skull as though something inside was about to burst.
Ahead of him, lying on the cracked floor, was his tablet—broken clean through the middle. The screen still glowed faintly, frozen on a Webnovel page. His library was filled with hundreds of books, each showing new chapter updates.
He wanted to speak out loud—to scream, to question what the hell was happening—but all that came out was a weak cough mixed with blood.
Broken glass was scattered everywhere. Shards glittered beneath the flickering light bulb like twisted decorations. Allen slowly turned his head, his vision blurring as he took in the rest of the room.
The walls—freshly painted just weeks ago—were now scorched black. Burn marks crawled across the surface like ugly scars. Blood was sprayed everywhere, staining the walls, the floor, even the ceiling.
'I-is… is that my blood?'
The thought sent a wave of nausea through him.
Cracks split the concrete walls, deep and jagged. Metallic fragments—shrapnel—were embedded into the surfaces around him, some buried so deep they looked like part of the structure itself. The light bulb above flickered weakly, buzzing as if struggling to stay alive, casting unstable shadows across the destroyed room.
Allen tried to move, but his body didn't respond.
'I can't even move… it hurts.'
Pain drowned his senses, overwhelming and absolute. His breathing grew ragged as warm liquid trickled down his face. Blood dripped onto his eyelids, blurring his vision until everything was tinted red.
Then—
Boom!
The explosion shook the entire building.
The sound echoed endlessly, as if the world itself were tearing apart. His eyes instinctively shifted toward the shattered window. Outside, the sky was choked with dust and smoke. Fighter jets roared overhead, circling like predators as they ripped through the clouds.
Pillars of smoke rose from the city below, stretching toward the heavens. Gunshots echoed nonstop, overlapping with the deafening blasts of grenades and missiles. Sirens screamed in the distance, only to be swallowed by chaos moments later.
'I was just browsing novels… and then…'
The memory returned slowly.
One moment, he had been lying on his bed, half-asleep, scrolling through shorts. The next—
A grenade had crashed through his window.
The explosion destroyed everything in an instant.
Metallic shards were buried deep inside his body. He couldn't even feel where his limbs were anymore. Pain overtook every thought, every emotion, until nothing else mattered.
'Is this how I die?'
A slow, gruesome death. Lying helplessly on the floor, bleeding out.
Dying young. Dying without accomplishing anything.
'Is this my death?'
Bitterness filled his chest as his heart struggled to keep beating. Each breath felt heavier than the last.
'Is this really my end?'
Twenty-one years old.
Allen White.
An orphan.
A medical student enrolled in a government-run college.
A boy who grew up without ever knowing warmth.
No parents. No relatives. No one to rely on. From the moment he could remember, his life had been nothing but loneliness and poverty. Cast to the bottom of society, the only thing he had ever trusted was his own mind.
He studied relentlessly—day and night—sacrificing sleep, comfort, even happiness. All for one goal: to escape the life he was born into.
And he had succeeded.
A full scholarship. Medical school. A future finally within reach.
Hope.
But fate was cruel.
Just when his dreams were close enough to touch, the world collapsed.
America's conquest of Venezuela. Military intervention in Iran. One conflict led to another, until it ignited World War III. Now, his own country had been dragged into war, and he had become nothing more than collateral damage.
Allen had never really thought about death.
Old age, maybe. A disease. An accident.
Normal ways.
Never this.
Never dying young, mutilated, abandoned on the floor, waiting for death to take pity on him and end his suffering.
'I don't want to die…'
His thoughts trembled.
I DON'T WANT TO DIE!
The scream tore out of his throat, raw and desperate. Tears mixed with blood as they ran down his ruined face.
'I WANNA LIVE! GODDAMNIT!'
Silence followed.
Then—
Confirmed. Reincarnation in process.
Allen's eyes widened weakly.
His gaze drifted toward the corner of the room, toward the only companion he had ever truly known in this lonely world—his phone.
The screen was shattered. The body was bent. Yet somehow, impossibly, it still worked, displaying the white-haired protagonist of the novel he had wanted to read—the white-haired swordsman fighting with impossible confidence against overwhelming odds.
A bitter smile tugged at Allen's lips.
'How great it would be… to live in novel worlds.'
His vision blurred further as exhaustion pulled at his consciousness.
Confirmed. Noting destination of reincarnation…
'This is the end, huh…'
His thoughts slowed.
'Next life… I hope… I'll be someone of importance…'
Recalling his years in poverty, his past as an orphan, he muttered, 'With a rich family… a noble, perhaps.'
His gaze remained fixed on the cracked screen, still showing the novel poster.
Regressed Bastard Is A Necromancer!
Confirmed. Scanning potential candidates.
The voice echoed calmly, mechanically.
A novel where the main character, a necromancer, regressed back to his pathetic days as a bastard son of a Viscount, armed with a system. Cliché, sure—but in an era where no proper novels were being made, Allen took whatever he could.
'What if there is no afterlife? Would I become a spirit… or a curse?'
Darkness closed in around him.
'I hate this world… I hate this fate… I—'
His consciousness flickered.
'I want to live an easy life… is it too much to ask?'
Blood mixed with tears as they trickled down his face.
'Like some protagonist of novels… I want plot armor to save me. I want a system… superpowers… abilities.'
Confirmed. Common Skill "System" acquired.
Evolving Common Skill "System" into Extra Skill "Gamer"… Error.
ERROR. Retrying. ERROR.
Evolution failed. Common Skill "System" failed to evolve. Error has occurred. Skill corrupted due to failed evolution.
Extra Skill "System (Corrupted)" acquired.
'What's with all this noise…?' Allen muttered faintly.
His consciousness finally gave in.
His breathing stopped.
His heart fell silent.