Mortals had believed transmigration is the transfer of the soul after death as a form of either heaven's blessing or punishment. But of god's all chosen men and reasons, Clay was pulled from his world out of his will.

As soon as Clay squinted his eyes, he knew the roulette had been rolled, and the damned ball of destiny landed upon him. It's just fate being fate, his greatest opponent.

'I did not even die. Unless I passed away while sleeping... SADS is a thing, after all. But why is it so dark here, anyway?'

Clay soon surveyed his dim surroundings - hell, it has to be done first before resorting to panic - to clinch if the isekai god had made a poor move.

Luckily, it seemed like he ended up in a chamber of some filthy-rich nobility - a good sign, undoubtedly.

The comfortable canopy bed he woke up on is draped with translucent woven curtains of colors white and yellow. Around the walls were picture frames with curving borders, gothic windows covered with thick drapery, and intricately carved furniture made of ash wood and other sleek materials.

The room is full of extravagant things, but it is still spacious.

'Not bad... it seems like I transmigrated into a world set in the medieval period. And... I had read many novels set in that era. So, which might it be?'

Clay breathed the stale air to compose himself in an attempt to ponder.

"Urgh-"

But before it happened, a thunderclap of headache came as if his cerebrum was being crushed, making him let out a restrained, excruciating groan.

Based on its intensity, it was suspicious enough to make Clay think of the upcoming.

'Flashbacks...? Here we go... hmm... uh?'

Well, Clay expected some surge of memories coming from the owner of this body, but nothing came. So, he waited for a minute or two, only to realize that it was just a regular migraine - ignoring how torturous it felt.

'Oh playful god, just give me the damn sign...'

Taking the flashback skit out of his list, Clay decided to go the alternative: getting clues using this new body. Who knows, he might be now one of the rich main characters in some whatsit of a fantasy novel.

"Hu..."

Sighing as he lowered his expectations, his eyes landed on a covered cheval mirror as he reeled his head sideway.

'Ah, there it is.'

While Clay tried to lift his body, suddenly came gentle knocks on the fancy door enclosing the room.

"Young master Hok, a pleasant morning."

A tired, manly voice followed.

It was mild and respectful, making Clay think the man was probably the butler or staff of this fancy place.

"Count Glen wanted to let you know if you would like to join them for breakfast, young master. You asked yesterday to say bye to your brother Luther since he will be out for a while."

'Hmm...? Count Glen? Luther...? Then...'

"Shit..."

Well, seems like god had heeded his call; those names rang something... he was sure of it.

He was reading random novels in the past few days, and the most recent one had those names... and it's set in a western fantasy world.

'The novel last night... Did I transmigrate into it? Ha... Well, thank wretched god, at least it's not the 'I leveled with a system...' one - not a fan of those kinds.'

Wobbling as he endures his gripping migraine, he quickly moved to the covered mirror. He needed to know on whose body god had shoved him into.

Without hesitation, he yanks the fabric covering the cheval mirror. Then, he faced himself to it, legs slightly bending as it was not tall as him.

"Ho..."

'Just holy son of a bitch... This is-'

Clay held himself from swearing as he turned at the mirror with his palm covering half his face.

He sees himself as a young man with the faintly chiseled jaws of young Adonis. Above were glaring crimson eyes - akin to a snake's when upon a prey - that paired well with the neck-long black hair seemingly endowed with utmost care.

'Haha, no way it is really him...'

Furiously flabbergasted, Clay held himself from laughing at the situation.

He sees the reflection of this new self letting off an evil smile brimming with absolute arrogance as though he was already plotting a grand regime on someone's innocent life.

'I'm now Horus Durkton...? The rotten minor antagonists in the novel I read last night?'

He knew this undoubtedly as this body suits the introduction the book had given to him:

Based on the current frame of this body, this Horus would be about 17 or so years old right now - indicating the novel's time frame had already begun. Definitely not the best time to get transmigrated onto.

As far as Clay could remember, Horus Durkton was just a typical academy villain who appeared in the early parts of the novel.

Horus was a spoilt young noble who enjoyed acting strong but turned out to be a weakling after his encounter with Axel - the novel's first main character.

'So... am I now forced to do things Horus would do in the future?'

To put a cherry on top, Horus wasn't much of a significant character in the novel; he's a minor, weak antihero, a character at the bottom of the hierarchy of interest.

Readers would agree with Clay if he asserted that Horus was only a filler character until a more formidable antagonist would take his place.

'Well, it's not that I'm complaining. As long as I can get transmigrated to a rich bastard, I would be satisfied.'

"Ahem, young master Hok? Are you feeling unwell... again? Should I call the family doctor?"

Hok. He could remember it. It was Horus' very nickname.

He almost forgot about the butler waiting for a response outside the closed door, for he deeply sighed as he began to answer, sounding nonchalant.

"I don't feel well. I also don't want a doctor."

In the book, forgetting how awful Horus' character is, he was still one of the noble figureheads at the Gilshire Academy: the very place where half of the novel's plot circulated.

Horus was a son of a Count and one of the honored Durktons hailed because of their passionate devotion to sword art.

'Ah, gracious... but Horus had no talent in swords.'

Besides that point, the most concerning of which is that Clay had no idea, if not barely any, about Horus Durkton's life outside the academy.

The novel did not even elaborate on Horus' past, unlike most antagonists who at least had a sob story explaining their purposes of being against the hero. And the reason wasn't too surprising: the only role of Horus Durkton in the novel was to act as a stepping stone for the main character's progression.

'Well, that is that... I just need to fulfill that role... while... not getting hurt or dying, I guess.'

"I understand, young master... Please, do rest well."

He waited until the butler's footsteps faded to silence as he rested his body back on the bed with his hands on his temples, thinking of a way to figure his plans out.

Of course, he would need a different, perhaps not troubling way, to live as Horus while fulfilling his role.

'Should I just... run away? Ah, no... that would be troublesome.'

Sure, he could use his knowledge in the novel to his advantage, but it's risky. This world is infested with all sorts of monsters - both people and real ones.

'Plus, I want to experience living an aristocratic life. I mean, boy... I had lived in poverty, and there's nothing wrong with fancying such good life now that the opportunity just presented itself.'

He grinned as he remembered how filthy rich the Durktons were in the novel because of their mining and merchanting businesses spanning every corner of the kingdom.

'Hoho... I could squeeze the Count's fortune dry since I'm now a spoilt brat.'

His cheeks flushed pink as he was about to ponder again, but another gentle knock interrupted him.

"Y-young master..."

It was a voice of a lady.

The tone was too timid and scared as she was stuttering; as Horus could deduce, she might be one of this place's maids.

"Enter."

The maid entered, slowly walking, head lowered while holding a tray with a wine bottle.

'Ho... I don't remember Horus drinks, but this is surely interesting.'

He, the new Horus, raised an eyebrow, staring at the maid coldly, hands crossed, as the maid shakily laid the tray on the table by his bed.

"Y-young master Hok... S-should-?"

'Am I supposed to drink that...?'

Interrupting the stiffly mumbling maid, he instead requests:

"Ah no, just open the windows. It's just too dark here."

Those words petrified the maid, putting him wonder if he said something wrong or out of this world.

'Did I just... say something wrong?'

He motioned to the young, pale-blonde maid to move, but she remained stiff, sweating bullets as she stood still.

'Hmm...?'

After a brief moment of hesitation, the maid finally reached the windows, unfurling them to life as the gloomy room welcomed the morning sun.

He ignored how long it took, just how hard it is to pull a curtain sideways, asking himself.

(From now on, I shall start calling him Horus instead of Clay to decrease word count so you can read less. How great. Gee, thanks.)

Instead, Horus sighed and slowly stood to face the extravagant wooden shelf by his bed that caught his attention.

"What is your name?"

Horus asked, without turning to her as his eyes were latched on the book he just held.

"G-Gwen."

"Miss Gwen, get me a breakfast, please."

Horus was starving as he flipped the pages, for he knew he needed to at least eat to think things through.

He turned to Gwen, who started to nod vigorously as if her life were on the line on the order she received.

"T-thank you, young master."

Gwen bowed as she hurryingly left with a relieved expression.

'Why is she thanking me?'

On the shelf were only a few books whose symbols were all foreign; he couldn't understand any - maybe because he was now in a different world.

'This is not a good sign... but strangely... I can understand this world's spoken language without breaking a sweat.'

Sighing as he set those thoughts aside, he returned the books, flopped on the bed, and planned a way to avoid getting his cover blown to not overcomplicate things.

This is because he was unsure if he would be living as Horus for a short time or, god knows, for the rest of his life.

He closed his eyes and tried to retrieve all the relevant information he might need from the novel.

The title of the novel Clay transmigrated onto was 'To Kill a God.'

Despite its threatening title, the novel was based on the long classical epic 'Viunir io Haeuir,' whose author was unknown.

Having diverse worldbuilding for a classic fantasy book, it wasn't a mystery why Clay had even read it in the first place: curiosity. What else could it be, anyway?

Since the novel was based on a classical epic, it has grown into seven volumes - and each was focused on a new main character.

The first volume would be about the chronicles of Axellot Blancwit - or just Axel, as the book often refers to him - the commoner disciple that Horus envied, harassed and tormented for years.

Horus and Axel are both disciples of the Gilshire Academy in swordsmanship.

Horus had envied Axel's superior talent in swords because he turned out to be unskilled. The Durktons were a family society regarded as the progenitor of the kingdom's lasting sword art. Yet, Horus was the stain of that preserved tradition. He was fast - in fact, faster than most disciples - but he had no talent in swords.

A sudden knock came through the door.

"Y-young master. I had your breakfast."

"Come in."

Gwen bowed as she entered and placed a bed tray where Horus was sitting.

The stainless cloche covered the meal on the tray, but Horus could already smell the aroma of butter and thyme.

"What is the date today?"

Surprised by his fine sense of smell, he calmly asked the maid and showed an indifferent expression.

Waiting for a response, he took off the cloche and started digging through the savory steak as soon as he casually wrapped the bib on his neck.

"I-it's late-spring twenty-first, year 495."

'Hmm, I think I remembered.'

This world uses seasons to refer to months, and four of those are equivalent to a year. Each season lasts ten to twelve weeks and is divided into three parts: early, mid, and late.

'Late-spring. This means I have to go back to the academy soon as summer is about to come.'

Horus confirmed that he is currently 17 years old, indicating that he has completed or is presently taking his first year at the academy.

'And... I still have three years, huh.'

Well, maybe not surprisingly, Horus died in the fourth volume of the novel.

It was a helpless death.

When Axel became the rising hero of the kingdom after receiving a heck lot of honorary merits, Horus had schemed something.

Horus ate a whatsit of magical forbidden fruit and decided to challenge Axel in a Duel of Glory - which, needless to say, Axel still one-sidedly won.

To clarify, Axel did not actually kill Horus; the backlash of eating the forbidden fruit did (or... maybe both did).

'Well, I accomplish my role as a stepping stone and then avoid him. Sounds good.'

Of course, he will play it safe; he doesn't want to get hurt in any way or form - especially if we are talking about the almighty Axel, the novel's god-killer.

He had suffered enough in his previous life as Clay, so he couldn't let this favorable opportunity slip away from his grasp.

"Gwen,"

Horus called out to the maid without even giving her a glance.

"Tell father..., the Count, I need to talk to him."

He determined his first move: to meet Count Durkton. He knew very well he had to be careful; he had no idea how the usual kinship works in the Durkton family. But it should be worth giving a shot.

"Y-yes, young master."

"Tell him it's important."

The maid tensed, slightly shaking, but Horus knew she was listening attentively.

"I u-understand."

Gwen is about to reach the doorknob, but Horus continues after swallowing a chunk of steak.

"Ah, also get me some good basic reading and writing books and... all books related to the Durkton family bloodline from the study."

The maid blanked, shaking as she gaped at her young master, who continued shoving pieces of steak into his mouth without a halt.

"Hmmph... Also, tell the bookkeeper to keep his mouth shut about anything I ask you to bring from now on."

"I u-understand, young m-master."