Darkness wasn't quite the right word. It was more like... absence. The absence of light, sound, sensation, even thought beyond a dull, echoing confusion. Kevin existed, somehow, in a state between the screech of tires and the grime of the alley. It was less a place and more a loading screen for reality.
Last thought: Cliffhanger... quarterly reports... damn vampire CEO...
Then, impact. Not physical, not anymore. More like a data packet slamming into his non-existent consciousness. A feeling akin to getting a system-critical update notification right when you're about to beat the final boss.
TRANSMIGRATION SERVICE ADVISORY
Recipient: Soul #9,884,720,112 (Designate: "Kevin Lee")
Event Trigger: Class-4 Vehicular Metaphysical Relocation (Codename: TRUCK-KUN)
Wha...? Kevin's nascent awareness tried to form the thought.
Initializing Soul Transit... Buffering... Destination Acquired: World #734-Beta ("Aethelgard - Low Fantasy Standard")
NOTICE: Due to budget constraints and recent surge pricing, standard orientation personnel are unavailable. Please accept this complimentary digital guide.
A new presence bloomed in Kevin's non-mind. It felt... slick. Like a brand-new app forced onto his phone by the manufacturer. It radiated a faint aura of smug self-importance mixed with genuine utility, like a particularly well-designed but passive-aggressive user manual.
The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
Installing: [Transmigration 101: A Guide for Your Second Life (v. 3.7.2 - Inkstained Prophet Edition)]
Features Include:
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Module-Based Learning!
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Sarcastic Commentary!
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Warnings About Slimes! (Seriously, don't poke them!)
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Acceptance of Terms & Conditions Required for Full Functionality.
Terms and...? Kevin felt a phantom scrollbar unfurl in his mind, displaying kilometers of dense, incomprehensible legalese detailing soul rights, multiversal liability waivers, and clauses about not suing if reincarnation resulted in becoming a sentient dung beetle.
By continuing the transmigration process (i.e., not ceasing to exist entirely), you agree to the aforementioned Terms & Conditions.
Thank you for choosing Inter-World Transit Services! (We know you didn't really have a choice.)
Wait! Decline! I didn't read...!
But the feeling of "download complete" resonated through his non-being. The presence of the Guide settled, not as an active interface yet, but like a file saved to a hard drive he didn't know he had. It felt vaguely instructional, faintly mocking.
Then, the loading screen vanished. Absence snapped into presence. Rough stone under his cheek. The stench of stale beer and old blood. The throb in his temple. The alley.
The memory of the cosmic download, the advisory, the involuntary Terms of Service acceptance – it was all shoved brutally into the background by the sheer sensory overload of being somewhere else. It lingered like the ghost of a weird dream you can't quite recall, a faint mental file icon labelled "Transmigration_101_Manual_READ_ME_EVENTUALLY.pdf" tucked away in the messy desktop of his consciousness.
He wouldn't consciously access it, wouldn't even remember receiving it clearly, until the panic subsided just enough for his bewildered mind (or maybe the budget System later) to go searching for any kind of help file. And there it would be, waiting. Smug, probably judging his initial fumbling, and ready to offer its questionable wisdom.