CLEAVER OF SIN Chapter 2: Hell Mode

Rays of sunlight softly penetrated the glass windows, spreading a cozy light throughout the chamber. Beneath the covers, a young lad rested in serene slumber. Abruptly, a faint quiver rippled across his eyelids.

In an instant, he lifted himself from the mattress, shifting effortlessly into an upright posture. His eyelids stayed shut while he extended his limbs lazily, trapped in that foggy border between dreams and reality.

"A fine stretch," the boy whispered, his lids parting as the surroundings gradually sharpened into view. However, he stayed rooted, perched in shocked quiet, a surge of bewilderment sweeping through him.

"How did I end up here?" he breathed, his tone hardly firm. Then, suddenly, he hesitated, doubt intensifying in his stare.

’What’s become of my deep voice?’ he pondered, hands automatically touching his neck. His gaze scanned the space, keenly absorbing each element, each dim nook, as though hunting for clues.

’Is this a royal’s quarters, or something?’ he mused, his eyes gliding over the lavish setting. The mattress felt incredibly plush, the covers fluffy and welcoming. Elaborate paintings in golden frames decorated the walls, and all the furnishings radiated supreme elegance.

He raised his palms, observing how they seemed tinier than in his prior form, but oddly more robust. His flesh appeared unusually silky under his inspection.

"What in the world is going on?" he grumbled, the strange tone rising from his larynx, tinged with incredulity.

Ethan’s thoughts whirled, flipping through all conceivable situations that might account for his bizarre state. This wasn’t the way his mornings ought to start.

His daily pattern was straightforward and steady: rise, go to classes, share jokes and chatter with his sweetheart, then drift off without a care.

Yet, a lone, shocking idea hit him like a thunderbolt.

Transmigration

’Unbelievable... could something like that truly exist?’ he reflected, skepticism heavy in his consciousness.

Of course, he’d devoured plenty of online novels and binged sufficient anime to spot the pattern. But he’d never desired it, never even considered it seriously. Why bother? His existence was already flawless.

He possessed riches, height, remarkable looks, smarts, and was romancing the sharpest and most captivating woman in the medical program.

In every way, he embodied the ideal life. His world didn’t match the tired setups for rebirth or soul-shifting at all. No sorrow, no wrong, no sorrows lingered. It was just... ideal.

True, he’d been raised in an orphanage. But unlike numerous youths who, reaching adulthood, yearned to trace their origins or reconnect with absent kin, Ethan never felt that pull. For him, history was sealed shut. They’d forsaken him, so he’d mirrored that abandonment, decisively and sans regret.

His musings halted once more, sharply.

Jennifer

Recollections of her surged into his head with striking clarity, her chuckles, the mischievous peeks she’d toss during his sessions when she walked him there, the comfort of her fingers intertwined with his.

He recalled their dating beginnings, two years back. Never a single quarrel. Never any need for distance. Jennifer had even dubbed their bond: .

’Damn. Return me... return me to my realm’ Ethan pondered, the burden of his situation slamming down.

He skipped the phase of rejecting the event. Recognition had already taken hold, however dreamlike it seemed.

But Jennifer... what fate awaited her? The agony, the bewilderment, the ruin she’d endure upon discovering his form, lifeless and still, or perhaps declared vanished.

That notion gutted him.

Ethan allowed his spine to melt into the bed’s cushion, sight locked vacantly on the gleaming overhead surface. His mind swirled without pause, knotted in incredulity and grudging surrender.

The classic soul-transfer cliche unfolded in his head, violence, clashes, dominance fights, sorrowful occurrences, and nonstop kin turmoil.

Such tales ignited the imaginations of countless book fans and enthusiasts.

But not his.

He lacked any motive to daydream about fleeing or starting anew. His actuality had been nearly flawless, so flawless that swapping it for disorder struck him as completely ridiculous.

Moments drifted as he remained prone, unmoving, his stare unwavering. Finally, spurred by intrigue or subtle fear, he hauled himself from the bed and approached the tall mirror affixed to the wall. At minimum, he had to behold the visage of the unfamiliar person he’d turned into.

He stood from the mattress and headed to the glass, each footfall measured and careful. When his eyes locked with the image facing him, he stopped, gazing at a youth appearing no more than seventeen, though carrying an aura surpassing his age.

The form towered at 6’1", with complexion so pale and perfect it looked free from any speck of grime or trial.

His irises held a profound, mystical violet, echoing the messy tangle of locks on his crown, strands that, though pristine and maintained, sprouted untamed, like no scissors had neared them.

His traits were keen and perilously alluring, the sort of countenance that might enchant or hush a crowd with ease.

’A heartbreaker’ Ethan mused wryly.

But that notion vanished fast, pursued by a weightier, pressing inquiry.

’I figured soul-shifts brought recollections... so where are mine?’

His sight shifted to the shut entrance opposite. The urge to swing it wide, to glimpse the mystery, pulled at him. Yet wariness held his stance firm.

Lacking any recall, any background on his location, his expected identity, or this realm’s rules, venturing out sightless might prove hazardous.

Moreover, given the room’s splendor and his fresh form’s polish, this vessel probably pertained to a figure of notable rank. A aristocratic clan, maybe.

Wiser to linger. A servant, an attendant, somebody would arrive. And upon their coming, he’d seize the opportunity to collect vital details.

Pivoting sharply, Ethan strode to the pane, aiming to spy the landscape outside. But on his next stride, he halted rigidly. His respiration snagged. An acute, invisible power slammed his psyche like a mallet against crystal.

Agony.

It erupted in his cranium, fierce and abrupt.

He lurched, gripping his scalp with both palms as his legs wobbled faintly. The impulse to yell tore at his gullet, yet he suppressed it, compelling silence.

Next, shards.

Visions started bursting in his brain like shattered recollections pieced by disorder. Sights, countenances, locales he didn’t know, but now oddly recognized. A chaotic reel of another’s existence unraveled fiercely before his vision.

A few torturous minutes elapsed before the torment ebbed, then vanished entirely, as abruptly as it struck. Ethan held steady, panting lightly for air, his frame quaking as he gradually straightened from his near-fall.

His brain spun, staggered by the flood of recollections just imposed on him.

They weren’t originally his, yet now, in some way, they were.

He’d just viewed the existence of the spirit that formerly dwelled in this form. All encounters, all instants, all wounds carved into the awareness now merged with his. And the visions left him dazed.

"You’ve got to be kidding me." Ethan breathed, his tone hushed, nearly winded from astonishment.

Vanished was the comfort and advantage of his past days, his hours of ease, mirth, and simple triumphs. What confronted him now was turmoil. Deceit. Gore. And a heritage fraught with peril.

It felt like destiny had yanked him from Simple Mode and flung him straight into Nightmare Mode, sans alert, sans cause, and sans pity.