The First Transmigrat

I staggered under the weight.

The pressure—again—was like being buried beneath a mountain. I tried to move. A single step. Even an inch.

But my knees wouldn't bend.

I gritted my teeth and screamed, not out of fear, but raw frustration. I tried again, forcing Black Wind through every pore, wrapping it around my limbs, reinforcing muscle and bone. It crackled and hissed, but it wasn't enough.

The reindeer just stood there, those emotionless yellow eyes watching me.

It didn't move.It didn't breathe.It didn't blink.

Then it was gone.

I blinked.

My claws swung—but caught only air.A heartbeat later, it was behind me.

Again.

Then again.

Three times it slipped out of my hands. No sound. No warning. No trail. Even with my senses sharpened to their peak, I couldn't predict it. Its movement wasn't speed—it was silence itself. It phased from place to place, weaving through reality like it didn't belong here.

And the worst part?

It regenerated.No matter how many times I struck it.No matter how many limbs I severed or heads I removed.

It always came back.

And now… gravity.

The world collapsed around me.

I could feel it—space itself bending. Trees snapped, the air trembled, and thousands of rocks and uprooted trunks hovered above, swirling like debris caught in a vortex. The beast raised its head, and with a silent command—

Boom.

The world came down.

Everything—everything—was thrown at me at once.

I tried to react. I raised my arms, summoned a cyclone of Black Wind—but it faltered. Wobbled. Failed.

My power wasn't responding properly. It wasn't just exhaustion. Something was interfering. The Deer's presence—its gravity, its silence, its unnatural aura—was messing with the core of my ability.

The Black Wind swirled—but it was thin. Weak. Disobedient.

I dodged what I could, leapt between falling boulders and shattered trunks, but one caught my shoulder, another crushed my thigh. Blood soaked the ground. My limbs trembled.

And still, that yellow gaze never broke.

"Damn you!" I growled.

It didn't flinch.

Another pulse—pressure. I collapsed to one knee, every bone screaming.

But then—I remembered.

I had cut its head off before. And it regenerated.

So the head wasn't the weakness.

But maybe…

"The heart."

I muttered aloud. "It has to be the heart."

I untransformed, abandoning my bear form. Too big. Too slow. I needed precision.

Focusing every ounce of remaining strength, I formed Vacuum.

The air itself twisted around the reindeer. Its body shifted unnaturally, its form trembling under the crushing pressure of emptiness.

It worked.

For a second—just one second—it froze.

But then…

Crack.

It stepped forward.

I felt the break. Not in the world—but in my resolve.

It had resisted Vacuum. Not fully. Not yet. But it had begun to adapt.

Even worse—Black Wind was growing useless. Every time I used it, it weakened faster. My control over it frayed at the edges, like it was unraveling in real time.

The deer was evolving.

Adjusting to me.

I transformed again. Not into the beast. Not fully. Just enough—Hybrid form. A fine balance between control and power. My limbs grew longer, denser. My bones crackled with tension. Claws extended, swirling with barely-tamed wind.

I rushed forward, burning every last drop of energy I had.

If Black Wind didn't work on it—I'd use it on me.

Each gust propelled me faster.

And faster.

Until I became a blur of clawed fury.

The deer didn't move. It didn't even brace itself. Maybe it believed I couldn't hurt it.

That was its mistake.

I pierced its chest with everything I had.

A sickening sound. Bone and flesh torn. Blood sprayed across my arms like paint.

A roar tore from my throat—anguish, fury, everything I had left. My claws twisted, ripped, slashed. I tore into its insides, trying to find something—anything—that resembled a heart.

It retaliated.

A massive wave of pure force knocked me back, hurling me across the crater like a leaf in a storm. I skidded along the charred ground, tumbling end over end, but I didn't let go of the wind.

I twisted mid-air, caught myself with a gust, and launched forward again.

Its chest wound was healing.

No.

Not again.

I wouldn't allow it.

Another burst of Black Wind.

I slammed into it again, aiming for the same spot—its heart. I could see it now. A faint, flickering core within its chest. Pale and pulsing. Unlike the rest of its silent form, it seemed… vulnerable.

It charged energy again—but I was already too close.

This time, I whispered into the wind. A command.

"Scream."

The Black Wind howled. A banshee's cry. I conjured a black scythe and brought it down with a roar. The blade cut deep into the reindeer's neck, slicing clean through.

The head tumbled.

I didn't stop.

I ripped open its chest. I pierced its heart.

The moment I touched it—a wave of resistance shot through me, like I had stabbed a star. But I didn't let go. I clawed, tore, shredded it apart until it pulsed no longer.

It twitched.

Flesh flailed.

The body collapsed in a heap.

I panted, breathing ragged, my arms slick with blood—mine and its.

But then—

I saw it.

In the distance.

A flickering vision.

Myself.

Standing in bear form.

Still.

Unmoving.

In the same spot I had stood minutes ago.

"What…?" I whispered.

My eyes widened.

That wasn't a memory. It wasn't a vision.

That was me.

Still transformed. Still locked in place. As if I had never moved at all.

I turned to look at my own claws—coated in blood. Heart racing.

"What the hell…?"

Everything I had just done…

Every blow.

Every cry.

Every desperate attack.

Hadn't happened?

The pressure wasn't just physical. It was temporal.

Mental.

A false timeline. A trick of perception.

While my mind raced and fought, my body had been trapped the entire time. I hadn't moved. Not once.

I had imagined the entire battle.

Or no—worse. I had lived it.

I stared at the reindeer again.

It hadn't moved.

Still staring at me. Yellow eyes glowing.

Then I saw it.

Its head—the one I thought I'd severed—never left its shoulders.

My breathing faltered.

I tried to speak—but my voice didn't come out.

And yet…

I could feel something had changed.

My connection to Black Wind. My perception. The timing of the pressure. I had felt it in that false battle. I understood now.

The pressure—it had intervals. A pulse. A rhythm. And within those windows—there was vulnerability.

Real vulnerability.

The false battle had taught me its pattern.

I hadn't lost everything.

I clenched my fists.

Now I knew when to move.

And next time?

I wouldn't be fighting in a dream.