Transmigrator Novels & Stories

Andrew was subjected to beatings and verbal insults every day. It seemed that he had truly lost his mind. He would constantly mumble to himself in a crazed tone while scrubbing robotically. "Go back… I have to go back to the present… Diana… Take me home, honey! This isn't real… I was transmigrated here, so I can definitely transmigrate back to the present… I have to find a way… I have to…" He would either be doused with a bucket of freezing, filthy water in the next second, or someone would smash a wooden bat against his back.

Sneering, I retorted, "The only thing I feel is joy that I'm finally going to be rid of you guys." Before the words had even fully settled, I raised my hand and slapped her. The sound echoed in the otherwise silent room. "Get out!" I snapped at her. No one was going to stop me from going home! That night, I locked my door and messaged Hugo Langdon. "It's done. I'm getting ready to go home." Hugo replied at once. He sent me a string of cheering emoticons. "Nathan! You're finally going home!" Hugo was the only friend I'd made after transmigrating into this world—and the only one like me. We were both unlucky enough to transmigrate here and be bound to systems that forced us to win over the lea

And there, hovering above each person, were designations: PLAYER_PRIMARY_CAMRYN_CHAVEZ_STAGE_III_ACTIVE PLAYER_SECONDARY_AMON_CAELAN_STAGE_III_ACTIVE PLAYER_SECONDARY_MIRANDA_CASTELLAN_STAGE_II_ACTIVE PLAYER_SECONDARY_WHITNEY_SOREN_STAGE_II_ACTIVE PLAYER_SECONDARY_FABIAN_MOREAU_STAGE_IV_ACTIVE PLAYER_SECONDARY_REGINALD_CASTELLAN_STAGE_II_ACTIVE PLAYER_SECONDARY_OLYRIENNE_ROSSETTI_STAGE_III_ACTIVE "No," Whitney breathed. "No, this can't be," "It's real," I said, deactivating the device. The code disappeared, but the damage was done. "We're all players. Transmigrators pulled from our original worlds into a game designed to test whether we can save an underground

Transmigrator Name: Xiarabella Allji'ah Level: Level 5 (Beginner) Age: 21 years old Nationality: Pure Fil**ino Assets: Hospital, Bookstores, Villa Identity: Famous Doctor Current Name: Yan Xia Yu Age: 15 years old Nationality: Ancient Chinese Assets: Mansion, jewelry, books, opera theatre, flowers, food shop, restaurant, cultivation school. Experience: 100/10000000 Completion rate: 75%/100% Charm: 10000/10000 Intelligence: 90/100000 Power: Wind, Plant Attributes: Plants Additional attributes: Many kinds of plants, partnership of Earth. Spiritual Aura: 50/1000000

Rowena shot a venomous, sideways glare toward Elara, her thin, chapped lips muttering silent, venomous curses under her breath. Elara ignored the old woman's pathetic hatred completely, refusing to grant her even a single second of emotional satisfaction or attention. Instead, she pulled an accounting ledger toward herself, pulling out a charcoal quill and dipping it lightly into fresh black ink. "Milo, come look at this," Elara said, her tone shifting seamlessly into that of a sharp, brilliant mentor who refused to be distracted by toxic enemies. "Your kitchen inventory system is completely broken. You're losing fifteen percent of your grain stores every single week simply because whoever k

I said, turning toward Alaric. For a moment, he stared at me, his eyes narrowing slightly. “The Council may not welcome your presence, Cressida,” he said. “You have no standing among them.” “I have a claim to the Northern Ridges, a mine on the eastern routes, and workers who could be next.” My voice remained steady. “That is enough standing for me.” ————————— By dawn, we had already left the shelter and prepared to travel. Finn brought my horse around. Alaric was already mounted, his dark cloak falling over the side of his saddle.

He had discarded his jacket and rolled the sleeves of his dark shirt up to his forearms, revealing a thin, pale scar across his left wrist that the novel had never bothered to mention. “Your father has threatened to cut off your allowances,” Cassian said, his voice smooth and untroubled as he cut a small piece of meat with absolute precision. “He can try,” I replied, swirling the water in my crystal glass. “I have never spent half of what he gave me anyway. The old Genevieve spent it all on silk dresses and expensive gifts for Christian Whitmore.” “And the new Genevieve?” “The new Genevieve is saving for a very quiet retirement on the coast, as far away from corporate boardrooms and rooftops

"Thank you. You've been very helpful." Her expression suggested she didn't believe me. She was right. By 10:30 a.m., I had been transferred between four departments, spoken to two clerks who couldn't find my application, and been informed by a man with a coffee stain on his shirt that emergency shelters required a separate environmental impact assessment. An environmental impact assessment. For a shelter designed to keep people alive during a global deep freeze. I was beginning to understand why the original heroine of this world had died in a blizzard. Apparently, the government had needed three copies of her death certificate before it could acknowledge that she was cold.

“You were found screaming in the middle of the road last night and now you’re telling me that I’m a fictional character.” “Because you are!” i pointed toward her. “You have to help me! Look I’m not built for this! I have a vacation to enjoy. I worked so hard for this vacation and now instead of me to be on a yacht on the clear blue waters in Satorini. I am here, in an apocalyptic world.” I continued crying. Her lips parted slightly. “You’re saying…” She hesitated. “That you transmigrated into a book?” I threw my hands up. “Yes!”

She lowered herself into the leather chair and looked over the plans again. By the time the sun disappeared behind the stone walls, she was still in the study. The door opened, and Marek walked in. He crossed the rug and stopped beside her chair. Mia looked up. Something in his expression made her put the drawing aside. “Find what you were looking for?” he asked. “I found enough.” She closed the folder. “Why are you back? Did anyone see you here…” “I don’t care anymore.” Marek leaned against the back of the settee. “I went back to the transport logs from the night the King’s car crashed. Then I checked the maintenance records for the traffic grid on the northern road.”