Kaiser blinked.
The blinding light receded, replaced by rustling leaves and cool air brushing against his skin. A moment ago, he was in his room. Now—he stood in the middle of a vast, alien forest.
He stumbled back a step, squinting at his surroundings. Giant trees loomed above, their dark, bark-covered trunks twisted like ropes. Strange vines drooped from the canopy, swinging lazily as if breathing. A soft blue glow pulsed faintly from patches of moss along the bark. The ground beneath was damp, uneven, covered in thick foliage and gnarled roots.
No sign of civilization. No sounds of vehicles, no buzzing streetlights. Just the chirps of unseen creatures echoing from far away. Some high-pitched. Others deep and guttural.
He had transmigrated.
Kaiser[1] had entered the new world.
The first sensation that hit him—cold. Not the numbing, icy kind, but a chilling breeze that made his sweat-damp shirt cling uncomfortably to his back.
He tightened his gloves and adjusted the straps on his backpack, taking deep breaths to calm himself. He looked up through the canopy—sunlight filtered in faint rays, already tinged orange. Dusk.
"Okay," he muttered to himself. "Don't panic. Follow the plan."
He scanned the surroundings. No visible paths. No smoke. No buildings. No signs of other people. Just trees and more trees.
He began walking—slowly, deliberately—keeping one hand on the grip of his bat. His eyes flicked from root to branch to bush, cataloging every movement. Once or twice he thought he saw something slither out of view—but it was fast, and he wasn't about to chase it.
He needed shelter.
Fire? Out of the question. Not until he understood what this place was. For all he knew, the light might attract monsters. Too many stories started with, "We just made a small fire to cook some meat, and then—" Boom. Night raid. Everyone dead.
After about twenty minutes of walking along a stream bed, he found it.
A cave.
It was half-hidden behind thick, moss-covered foliage and sat nestled in a small hillside. Not deep. The entrance sloped inward like a yawning mouth.
Kaiser hesitated.
He edged closer, crouched low, and sniffed. Horrible. Something had died in there. Recently. The stench was foul—rotting meat, wet fur, something acidic beneath it. He gagged, pulled his shirt over his nose, and crept inside with his flashlight gripped tight.
Bones? None.
Footprints? Yes—small ones. Like rabbits or rodents.
Claw marks? None on the walls. No fur. No dens. No signs of regular occupation.
He backed out, stared at the fading sky, and made a decision.
"This is the best I'm gonna get," he whispered.
He pulled out a few trash bags, laid one down like a tarp. He didn't dare sleep directly on the damp stone. The next few minutes were spent arranging his gear in a corner, checking everything twice. A light meal—just two biscuits and a few sips of water. He didn't know when he'd find more.
He didn't light a fire. Not tonight.
Kaiser sat with his back to the wall, bat across his lap. He listened. The forest never stopped moving. But the cave gave him some comfort—at least nothing had tried to eat him yet.
As he sat in the gloom, his mind finally began to slow. The adrenaline wore off. Fatigue crept in like a soft fog.
And with it came the thoughts.
That floating blue panel.
That damn Transmigration Group Chat.
In the panic of preparing, in the whirlwind of fear and logic, he hadn't had time to examine it properly. Now, sitting alone in a reeking cave on an alien world, he realized—he should probably figure out what the hell had brought him here.
He took a breath. Focused.
"Panel," he said aloud. "Group Chat."
No response.
He frowned, then concentrated silently, picturing it in his mind's eye.
With a soft chime, the panel reappeared.
[TRANSMIGRATION GROUP CHAT]Members: Kaiser[1]Active Users: 1Functions: [Chat]
The panel was empty save for one function. Just one.
He tapped [Chat].
A simple chat interface opened. A blank screen with a timestamp at the top. No messages. No system prompts. No notifications. On the left sidebar: a list of names.
Actually, scratch that.
Just one name.
His own.
Kaiser[1]
"…So it really is just me."
The reality hit harder now. He was the first. The only one. No seniors to explain anything. No allies. No shared documents, no tips, no group missions.
Just a chat system with no other users and no one to respond.
"Well, that's anticlimactic."
He typed something into the chat just to test it.
Kaiser[1]: Hello?
Nothing.
No system echo, no artificial intelligence, no world notification, no bouncing emoticons or helpful guide character.
He tried again.
Kaiser[1]: Where's my cheat?
Still nothing.
"C'mon," he muttered. "In these novels, don't transmigrators get something? A system, an inventory, some broken ability?"
He searched the interface for other tabs. Nothing. No [Shop]. No [Missions]. No [Status]. Not even a [Logout].
Just the chat.
He sighed and leaned back against the wall, rubbing his forehead. The blue glow of the panel made the cave feel even colder.
This was bad.
Worse than he'd imagined.
Most transmigration novels he read started with the main character getting some cheat within the first hour. A healing ability, infinite inventory, a sword that devoured souls—something.
Kaiser had a bat.
And a group chat with no group.
"I really am the first," he murmured. "The test run? The alpha release?"
He wanted to laugh, but the fear curling in his stomach killed the humor.
He checked his bag again, counted his rations. Three days if he rationed. Maybe four. Water for two. If he didn't find a clean source soon, he'd have to try boiling the stream water. Which meant fire. Which meant risk.
His hands trembled slightly as he pulled the emergency blanket over his shoulders. Not from the cold. Not entirely.
What if this was it?
What if there was no cheat?
No plotline?
No kingdom to save?
What if he'd just been dumped into some hostile alien world and left to rot?
Kaiser shook his head. "No. No, that's not how this works. This kind of setup doesn't happen without a plan."
He looked back at the chat window. The name Kaiser[1] glowed faintly at the top.
Why was he numbered?
Why [1]?
"Which means there will be a [2]," he said aloud. "Eventually."
Maybe that was the real point.
He wasn't here to be a hero. He was here to be the first. The one to start the chain. The one to map the land. Survive long enough that, when others showed up, someone would be able to warn them.
That was the only narrative that made sense. Someone had to be the first survivor.
So be it.
He sat up straighter.
The cheat might come later. Or maybe the chat was the cheat.
What if it could connect across worlds, across timelines, across space? What if future transmigrators could join him—and he'd already be ahead?
"I'll leave messages," he decided. "Records. Just in case."
He typed again:
Kaiser[1]: First arrival. No cheat yet. No contact. World unknown. Forest environment. Large trees. Blue moss. Fauna unknown.Cave shelter located. Coordinates unavailable. Smell of decay present. No signs of current inhabitants.Survival supplies packed. No fire used yet.Cheat status: absent.Mental status: stable (barely).Will continue daily reports.
He stared at the message for a long time. It didn't vanish. Didn't glitch. It just sat there.
And somehow, that made it feel more real.
Even if no one ever saw it, even if it went unread forever—it meant he was still here.
He looked outside the cave. The sky had darkened to indigo. No moon. Just strange constellations above, unfamiliar stars flickering across a distant sky.
This wasn't Earth. That much was certain.
He pulled the emergency blanket tighter, lay down slowly, and held the bat to his chest.
He didn't expect to sleep.
But eventually, exhaustion won.
And in that eerie, silent cave beneath alien stars, Kaiser[1] drifted into uneasy dreams.