Mark Miller regained consciousness from a searing pain that radiated through his entire body. It was most intense in his eyes, a throbbing agony that felt as if needles were being driven into them. Instinctively, he tried to rub them, but he couldn't even lift his arms. He struggled to force his eyes open, but only a void of absolute darkness greeted him. There wasn't a single flicker of light, no silhouette to grasp—he couldn't even tell if his eyelids were actually open.
After several agonizing minutes, the pain began to subside. Though his body remained deathly frail, he regained just enough strength to move. Summoning every ounce of will, Mark managed to sit up and began to feel his surroundings. The surface beneath him was flat, hard, and freezing—like a floor carved from a single, massive slab of stone. Finally, his hands brushed against a wall; it felt just as smooth and icy as the floor.
Mark's mind was in a state of chaos. He tried to piece together his fragmented memories. The last thing he remembered was finishing another cliché novel and preparing to leave for his extra night shift. Then, a sharp, crushing pain in his chest... he had tried to call for help, but consciousness had slipped away too fast.
He was clearly not in a hospital. He wasn't in his room, either. "Could it be... that the cliché isekai tropes are real? Did I actually reincarnate?" The thought struck him like a bolt of lightning in the dark.
.The idea of an isekai felt both absurd and somehow the most logical conclusion. Other grim possibilities crossed his mind: Was he in a morgue or some kind of body storage? Had he been kidnapped? But bodies weren't kept on dry, stone floors, and the space felt far too vast for a cold room. Kidnapping didn't make sense either; his family wasn't wealthy, and he had grown increasingly distant from them in recent years.
Then, a chilling thought took hold of him. What if I've been taken for the black market... for organ trafficking? The mere thought sent a shiver of pure terror down his spine. Pushing the panic aside, he forced himself to focus on his surroundings. As he struggled to move along the wall, a sudden, mechanical voice resonated within his mind.
The System's Message:
["Host, congratulations! You have been reborn in the world of the novel 'The Great Hero.' However, by the demand of this world's deity, you must live in this dungeon for the next 5 years—until the main hero defeats the Demon King. Your reborn body was in a terrible state; it has been minimally restored within the System's capabilities. Do not worry, you are now in the dungeon's safe zone, and the most essential living conditions have been provided here."]
First came the crisp "Ding!" echoing in his mind, followed by the appearance of a glowing panel. Mark strained to focus on the text, but as he read, he froze in place. Is this real? Or has my mind finally betrayed me? He pushed the thought aside, forcing himself to remain calm, and analyzed the text again.
The Great Hero. It was an average novel he had finished recently. It wasn't a masterpiece, nor was it trash—just a story saturated with clichés. The plot followed a hero destined to fight the Demon King at the end. For now, Mark set aside his questions about the five-year imprisonment and the Deity who forced him here. He needed to test the System's limits.
"System," he called out, his voice echoing in the hollow space. "Who did this body belong to? And what exactly did you mean by 'a terrible state'?"
The panel before him vanished, plunging him back into absolute darkness. Then, another "Ding!" resonated in his mind, and a new screen flickered to life.
[ Before its death, this body belonged to Thaddeus von Lightborn. Following the demise, the primary structural damages were repaired. Internal organs are healthy and functional. Physical integrity has been restored. However, the eyes could not be saved. Additionally, the left leg is 2 cm shorter than the right. The reproductive organs also sustained severe trauma; while structurally intact, their functionality remains critically low.]
Mark froze, staring at the panel again to confirm the grim reality. If what the System said was true, he was now both blind and impotent. In his previous world, such a trauma would have been enough to shatter any man's spirit.
Thaddeus von Lightborn. The name was hauntingly familiar. He was a third-rate villain from the novel The Great Hero. Once a handsome and talented noble, he had spent his academy days tormenting the protagonist—a commoner who possessed far more charisma and raw potential. Eventually, Thaddeus was defeated in a fair duel.
Blinded by the humiliation of defeat and ignoring all reason, he sought a shortcut to power through forbidden arts. The consequences were catastrophic: his bones became deformed, he lost his sight, and he was rendered sterile. To crown his misery, his own family disowned him. Instead of seeking revenge for their kin, they chose to adopt the very protagonist who had defeated him. Unable to bear the shame and isolation, Thaddeus had drowned himself in a frozen river in a remote exile region. Because of his frail body and the biting winter cold, the Lightborn family's guards who were watching him didn't even bother to attempt a rescue or retrieve his corpse. That was the definitive end for Thaddeus von Lightborn.
When Mark first read the novel, he had nothing but mockery for Thaddeus. What else could you call him but an absolute idiot? The man had been handed everything: immense talent, vast wealth, and a beautiful, virtuous fiancé named Anastasia. They had been betrothed since the age of eleven, yet by twelve, Thaddeus had already plunged into a life of debauchery, surrounding himself with countless women.
He acted as if his talent and lineage made his future untouchable, viewing Anastasia not as a partner, but as a mere possession. Whether he truly loved her or was driven by a sick sense of ownership remained a mystery, but the moment he realized she was losing interest and turning her gaze toward the protagonist, Thaddeus flew into a spiteful rage. That was when the harassment began.
The irony was painful. Later in the novel, Anastasia herself admitted that if Thaddeus had simply stayed faithful and shown her even a shred of genuine affection, she would never have spared a glance for the protagonist. By seventeen, at what should have been the peak of his youth, Thaddeus had destroyed it all. This was what infuriated Mark the most—the sheer waste. Even if he could never reach the protagonist's ultimate heights, if he had chosen to train properly after his duel instead of taking a forbidden shortcut, he could have at least remained a formidable rival.