The Successor System

Reincarnation

His eyes flickered for a moment before finally opening. His vision was blurry at first, but it took only a few seconds to adjust.

‘Where am I?’ he thought, glancing around the luxurious room where he lay.

The bed he rested on was so comfortable that he almost considered falling back asleep. However, the memory of his death, the strange voice, and the golden screen jolted him awake.

Sitting upright, he took a closer look at his surroundings.

The room was styled like something out of 18th-century royalty, but the materials used in its construction seemed otherworldly, far beyond what his old world could achieve. The windows were wide open, letting in a crisp breeze, and the sound of metal clanging echoed faintly from outside. The air was pure, unlike anything he had ever breathed before.

Before he could dwell too much on these observations, the golden screen from before materialized in front of him. He flinched slightly but then read the words displayed.

[Congratulations! Host has successfully transmigrated.]

[Host can now use some system functions.]

The text vanished, replaced by new prompts:

[Status] [Quests]

[Other hidden functions will be available soon.]

[System remark: That is, if the host stays alive.]

“Why make it sound like that?” he muttered after reading the last line.

‘So this is a system… I remember reading about these in novels, but to think I’d actually get one!’ His shock gradually turned into a mixture of excitement and determination.

‘If this means I’m in a completely new world, I need to adapt quickly. Surviving is the priority.’

He scanned the room again, a small smile forming on his face. “Judging by this place, I’m part of a wealthy family. That means money—the most important materialistic thing—is checked off the list. This system really knows its stuff.”

He nodded to himself. “Now, I need to figure out how much power and influence my family wields. If it’s insufficient, I’ll find a way to expand it. Thankfully, I learned a lot of business skills in my previous life—thanks to Mom and Dad’s nagging. This time, I won’t waste my chance. I’ll accomplish everything I couldn’t before.”

A flash of his uncle and his treacherous fiancée kissing crossed his mind, making him grit his teeth in anger.

“I hope I meet them again… so they can experience hell.”

Still, the enormity of his situation dawned on him. He looked back at the golden screen. “With your help, system, I’ll make it. What do you think?”

[…………]

“Why are you quiet? Say something. Are you shocked by my determination?” he teased, though a bitter smile tugged at his lips.

He sighed and finally turned his attention to himself. His hands were pale, the skin too thin. Frowning, he remembered that he was now in a different body.

Spotting a full-length mirror nearby, he got out of bed, the large pajamas hanging loosely on his frame. As he approached, his jaw dropped at the sight of his reflection.

The body he inhabited was frail. He was painfully thin, his skin pale, with dark bags under his sunken golden eyes. His black hair was sparse and uneven. Though the structure of his face hinted at handsomeness, it was buried beneath layers of exhaustion and neglect.

He looked about 18 years.

“This is worse than I thought… Was I a beggar picked up by some kind soul?” he wondered, his plans for a quick rise to success suddenly seeming much harder to achieve.

His gaze shifted to a note stuck on the mirror. He read the words aloud: “Get well soon, Art.”

“So my name is Art now…” he murmured.

For the first time, the clanging noises outside truly registered. Curiosity piqued, he walked to the window. Though weak, he managed to reach it and looked below.

Two figures were sparring with swords. One was a boy about his age, panting heavily, while the other was an older man who stood calmly, his expression unreadable.

“What’s wrong?” the man asked, his voice carrying authority. “Don’t tell me you’re finished already.”

“Like hell I am!” the boy shouted, gripping his sword tightly and pushing himself to his feet.

Art’s jaw dropped as the boy’s movements blurred, his speed unlike anything he’d ever seen.

‘What the…? How is he moving that fast? Is this some kind of barracks? And they still use swords?’

The boy charged at the man again, but this time, his body began glowing faintly with a blue aura.

“Not bad,” the man commented.

Art leaned further out the window, watching in disbelief. “Wait… That glow… That’s not normal. Don’t tell me this is a fantasy world!”

The boy yelled and surged forward, swinging his sword with impressive force. The man, unfazed, caught the blade between two fingers, the impact sending a visible shockwave across the area.

Art nearly lost his balance. “That… That’s impossible! This really is a fantasy world!”

While others might feel excitement at such a revelation, Art’s instincts screamed otherwise.

“Surviving here… It’s going to be hell,” he muttered, looking down at his frail hands again. The reality of his weak body and the world’s dangerous potential hit him hard.

He sighed, glancing back at his reflection with annoyance. “Curse you, system!”