Free Web NovelChapter 6: The Dead omegas of lust
Nathan / Seraphel
I was supposed to be dead and back in my college dorm, but the very first thing that registered in my consciousness was the smell of rot.
But before I could even open my eyes, a violent, agonizing surge of foreign memories slammed directly into my brain, threatening to rip my mind apart.
I saw a little boy with blue eyes. This wasn’t me. In fact, this wasn’t my memory.
Every rush of memory that flooded into my brain was filled with the tragic, agonizing life of this body.
"Seraphel!" I heard the voice scream into my head, and more images lashed behind my eyelids like a chaotic, broken film reel.
I saw a frail young boy shivering in the dark, locked away in a damp, freezing cellar. I felt the stinging phantom pain of a heavy slap across my face accompanied by the screeching, hateful voice of a woman.
"You have to become the prince’s breeder! Save this family. Your life is meaningless after all. I have taken care of you all this while, so you should be grateful!" A woman’s face came into view, and her brown eyes stared down at me with contempt. "Die with honor, Seraphel," she yelled angrily, grabbing my hand roughly.
More memories flooded into my head, and through Seraphel’s fading consciousness, I learned how his aunt, her cruel husband, and their arrogant son had treated him like an absolute slave for years.
They had starved him, beaten him, and constantly reminded him that an unwanted, orphaned omega was nothing but a worthless burden.
The final bitter memory was his uncle laughing maliciously as they dragged him out of the cellar and sold him off to the Palace of Lust as a sacrificial breeder.
The poor kid had lived a life of pure neglect, only to be sacrificed and die in the hands of a Deadly Sin.
It’s sad that Author Nude decided to write his story like that, but that was none of my business. All I knew was that I was returning to my world.
But why did my room smell like rot? I wondered.
"Ugh... Mark," I groaned weakly as I was waking up. "I swear to God, if you brought that rotten seafood into the dorm room again, I am actually going to kill you this time."
Mark was my annoying roommate who loved eating annoying food that smelled like shit, and the last thing I wanted to wake up to after that rough night with the Prince of Lust was his smelly food.
"Mark," I groaned again. fɾeeweɓnѳveɭ.com
My head was pounding with a violent, throbbing ache from the spiritual collision of two different souls. Every single part of my body felt battered, but the sensation was especially bad throughout my lower half.
Was I supposed to carry back the memories as a transmigrator? That doesn’t happen in all the transmigration stories I have read.
But it hurts. It genuinely felt as though someone had split my entire body completely open and then stitched it back together completely incorrectly.
Mark was probably going to mock me if I told him that I had transmigrated into the story I had been obsessing about for years.
He would probably call me crazy.
Still half-asleep, I tried to roll over instinctively, expecting the familiar, worn comfort of my twin mattress back in my dorm room.
Instead of soft fabric, something cold, wet, and crazily sticky brushed against my bare arm.
My eyebrows furrowed in deep confusion. That texture definitely did not feel like bedsheets. It felt exactly like the damp weight of the cellar from the dead boy’s memories, but thousands of times worse.
Slowly, my heavy eyelids fluttered open, struggling against the weight of my exhaustion.
Darkness greeted me first, followed by the brightness of the sun filtered into the space. And then, right in front of my face, I saw it.
A face with eyes widened open. A completely dead face.
There was a person with pale, decaying skin staring directly at me from inches away. Its cloudy, lifeless eyes were wide open, and its mouth hung slightly parted as if it had died screaming in absolute terror.
For one horrifying second, my brain stopped functioning as the shock paralyzed me.
This can’t be real. No, I was back in my room, and this is all a dream.
I heaved a deep sigh and closed my eyes, expecting that when I opened them, it would all be gone.
But as I opened my eyes again, I saw the face.
Then, the scream tore from my throat.
"Ahhhhhhhh!"
I jerked backward violently, my limbs flailing as I slipped on something wet and viscous beneath me.
My hands scrambled frantically for leverage, but instead of hitting solid ground, they sunk into cold, clammy flesh.
Flesh. Human bodies. There were bodies everywhere.
My stomach twisted violently as panic exploded through my chest. Under the bright sun, the reality of where I was lying hit me all at once.
I was sitting inside a massive, yawning pit that was overflowing with dead bodies.
Some of the corpses were half-covered beneath the weight of others. Some looked freshly discarded while others were already beginning to decompose. Pale limbs twisted unnaturally together beneath pools of dried, dark blood and shredded remnants of torn silk robes.
The overwhelming smell hit me all over again, rushing into my lungs. It was a sickening mixture of rotting flesh, metallic blood, dried sex, and heavy ceremonial incense.
How was I able to smell them, and what the hell was I doing in this pit?
"Oh my God... oh my God..."
I looked around again and then gasped when I noticed the familiarity. After reading the book, I made sure to read the manhwa, and this part, this ugly part, was the one I hated the most because the creator had drawn it in such an ugly way.
"Oh no!" I screamed, running a hand through my hair.
This was not my college dorm room. This was not Earth. This was still the fucking novel.
And the bodies lying around me were the omegas that had been sacrificed for Azriel.
Reality crashed into me like a collapsing building.
That fuckass stupid demon.
"You are going to die tomorrow," his words resounded in my head.
Yes, I was supposed to be dead. Seraphel died in the novel and the manhwa, so why the hell was I still alive?
How?
