Transmigrating as the weak MC

'Ugh, my head… feels like it's splitting apart.'

Alden winced, pressing a trembling hand against his forehead as he tried to calm the raging storm of pain in his brain.

Now, he was enduring a terrible headache unlike any he had ever experienced in his life.

"I need more sleep," he whispered in a weak tone, struggling to pry open his heavy eyelids.

Even the simplest action—like opening his eyes—felt like an impossible task.

What the heck? In addition, he felt pain coursing through his entire body. It was as though his flesh were being pierced by a thousand needles, with every inch of his skin screaming in agony.

"Look! He is finally waking up."

"Hehe, the weakling has been unconscious for close to an hour."

Surprisingly, he could hear various voices, which was undeniably strange.

He couldn't recall allowing anyone into his house... and it was impossible for anyone to enter without his permission. As far as he remembered, he hadn't shared his security password since purchasing the place a year ago. So, how did they all get in?

It was confusing—he could not reach any conclusion because his mind was in disarray. In fact, the more he tried to think, the worse his headache became.

'Who are those...?' The thought clouded his mind as he blinked against the blinding sunlight, struggling to open his eyes.

Finally, after numerous attempts, his vision cleared, and his heart skipped a beat.

Looking around, he appeared utterly confused, struggling to comprehend what was unfolding.

What was happening?

Where was he?

His surroundings were nothing like he expected—a vast blue sky stretched overhead when he should have been within the familiar confines of his mansion.

But that wasn't even what shocked him—or rather, what worried him the most.

Staring around, he saw various faces gazing down at him, their expressions a mix of amusement and disdain. It was then that he realized he was lying on the ground, his body covered in dirt.

Who are these people? How had he arrived here? A flurry of questions erupted in his mind all at once.

He frowned, straining to remember.

His last memory was of sitting at his desk, typing furiously to bolster his system, the glow of his screen casting eerie shadows across the dark room. Exhaustion had clawed at his body, pulling him ever closer to the edge of sleep...

Wait!

And then he remembered. His blood ran cold as he recalled the very last moment when a sharp seizure had gripped his heart.

Alden's mind raced, desperately searching for answers. Then, like a hammer, a single thought struck him hard.

'No… This can't be real.'

'I transmigrated into that trashy novel?!'

Panic overwhelmed his mind, and his face turned pale with dread as memories surged back.

He tried to banish the thought, insisting it must be a dream. But he couldn't fool himself, could he? This was far too real to be merely a dream.

He had read countless transmigration and reincarnation novels. That was how it always happened. But to live within one? That was a nightmare he never desired.

No way, this was insane.

He could have denied it, but his surroundings left no room for doubt. Everything—the scene, the atmosphere—matched perfectly with the novel he had read.

He remembered this place now.

It was Chapter 14, the final update from the so-called author of 'Heavenly Path Awakened'.

The realization slammed into him like a hammer. It wasn't merely any scene from the novel—it was the scene... the one in which Sammy, the protagonist, developed a heart demon that began to distort his mentality, making him doubt himself and look down on his own worth.

Too bad that was the final chapter, leaving it unknown how the main character had dealt with the situation. The story was complicated and difficult to follow, and Alden could feel its weight pressing down on him.

The details flooded back: Sammy, plagued by one setback after another. His talent had never awakened; his childhood sweetheart had betrayed him, leaving him for a powerful rival; even his twin brother had turned his back on him.

Why this story? Why me?

His heart sank further.

He looked up with a deep sigh and whispered, "I would rather be a random side character than this useless protagonist."

Sammy had been powerless. Useless. In the end, he had given up on himself, earning the title of the story's greatest failure—a pitiful existence that Alden wanted no part of.

"Arghhh!"

Just as he was lost in thought, a sudden kick to his stomach sent him into a hard groan of pain.

It was then that he realized people were gathered around him, their laughter echoing in his ears.

"Welcome back to the land of the living, Grandmaster Weakling!"

"Did anyone notice he was mumbling to himself?"

"Looks like Ranno knocked the last bit of sense out of him," a mocking boy's voice called out from the back, triggering laughter from the crowd.

Alden groaned, clutching his stomach. The pain radiated through his entire body, leaving him gasping for air.

He tilted his head slightly to locate the source of the voice, only for his eyes to lock with those of a tall, muscular boy sporting a sneer. His short black hair and sharp features made him appear even more like a boy. This had to be Ranno.

Ranno stepped closer and said, "What's the matter, Sammy? Does the dirt finally feel like your bed, or are you simply too weak to move?"

Alden didn't respond, his mind still racing to piece together what was unfolding.

"Let me make this clear," Ranno stated, crouching so that their faces were level. "Spar with me, or I'll keep pounding you into the dirt. The choice is yours, Grandmaster Weakling."

The crowd cheered as Ranno stood up, crossing his arms like a king surveying his subject. "Come on, 'Grandmaster.' Show us what you've got! Or are you just going to remain there in the dirt?"

Another voice added, "He's so bad at fighting that he might just pass out before the spar even begins!"

Alden gritted his teeth as he attempted to rise from the ground. Every muscle screamed in protest while his legs trembled as though they might give out at any moment.

He knew Ranno's character well; he wouldn't allow him to walk away without exacting humiliation or something worse.

The only option was to fight back, even though his weakened body already bore the scars of injury. If he refused, Ranno would likely keep his word, beating him until he yielded.

Slowly rising to his feet, he took a deep, shaky breath, feeling the crowd's eyes bore into him like daggers. 'I need to figure out how to survive this.'

"Watch out, grandmaster! A gust of wind might send you flying!" someone yelled from the crowd.

"Fine," Alden muttered, brushing off some dirt. "Let's get this over with."

There were varied reactions among the crowd. Some roared with laughter, clutching their stomachs, while others leaned forward with eager eyes, enjoying the spectacle.

A few stood quietly at the back, their expressions blank, unsure whether to feel sympathy for him or join in the mockery. To them, it was as if they had just heard the funniest, most absurd joke ever.

With an unsteady stance, he raised his fists—or rather, flailed them in what he assumed was a fighting stance. Yet deep in his mind, he knew he had never thrown a punch in real life, let alone sparred with someone like Ranno.

"Finally decided to grow a backbone, huh?" Ranno mocked, cracking his knuckles with a menacing grin. "Let's see if you can last more than a second against me."

THUD!!!

A punch to his face sent him crashing back into the dirt. He didn't even get a glimpse of how Ranno closed in, let alone the blow itself.

Just as Ranno was about to pounce on him to deliver another blow, a commanding voice rang out.

"Stop that!" "What is wrong with you guys?"

The crowd fell silent, their heads turning in unison toward the figure approaching from the distance.

It was none other than one of the city guards.