Could there be any worse form of transmigration than waking up tied to a stake and forgetting your memories?
Well, unless you wake up getting drowned in a sea and not knowing how to swim, or up in the sky and not being able to fly, this is indeed the worst transmigration spot ever.
The heat was the first thing that hit me. It was a dry, angry crackle at my heels. It smelled like old hay and most definitely impending death. I tried to move, but my wrists were bound tight behind me to a thick wooden pole. Every inch of my body throbbed with a dull, sickening pain, as if I'd been used as a punching bag for a week.
"Burn the wicked female!"
The roar of the crowd made my head spin. I blinked, trying to clear the haze from my vision.
Below me, more than a dozen people—no, creatures—were gathered. They looked human, but they weren't. Some had tiger ears twitching on their heads; others had different ears with thick, furry tails lashing behind them in anger.
I didn't know who I was, but I knew I was in trouble.
"Look at her!" a man screamed from the front row, pointing a trembling finger at me. "She still has that arrogant look on her face! Even after trying to kill the Saintess! So shameless!"
I followed her gaze. A few yards away, a girl was tucked into the massive chest of a golden-haired tiger beastman. She was beautiful in a fragile, 'kick-me' sort of way. Her eyes were red from crying, her white dress slightly torn and dirt around the hems.
That was the Saintess.
Then, a flash of a memory hit me—it wasn't mine and I could tell by how foreign and in line with this situation it felt.
I picked up a jagged rock, tried to hit the defenseless Saintess and when she escaped that, I tried to shove her toward a dark cliff, but that didn't work either.
I could feel a cold, frantic desire to be the only female the tribe looked at pulsing in this chest of mine... That desire too was foreign because at the moment, I had no reason and no desire to be wanted by the likes of these beastmen.
All I wanted was to survive.
But survival looked grim as I was in the body of a genuine, failed murderer. And not just that, I was in the process of being burned alive.
The tiger-man holding the Saintess glared up at me, his eyes full of pure disgust. "Die, Lyssa. Your existence is a stain on this tribe."
He dropped a flaming torch onto the hay at my feet to intensify the fire and it climbed even faster.
The smoke started to fill my lungs, and I coughed.
Seeing me struggle, the crowd cheered, a joyful sound of hate.
'I'm going to die,' I thought. 'And I don't even know what my favorite food is.'
I don't remember anything. Who I was, why I'm here in this body, or what I'm supposed to do by possessing this body.
All I know is that I'm in danger of dying before I get an answer to any of my questions. Even if I wanted to escape, there were too many eyes on me. If I cut the ropes now, they would tie me back on the stake and make sure to increase the fire so I burn hotter.
'I don't want to die a dog's death,'
I felt hate and gritted my teeth, trying to hold back any sob of pain I felt as the heat on my soles intensified.
I didn't do anything wrong, and even if I did, I do not accept getting burned on a stake as justification.
Just because the owner of this body tried to push a silly girl off the cliff, they're trying to burn her... Unforgivable.
If it were up to me, I would make them pay.
The rage grew in my heart and ignited hatred towards all my eyes could see through the rising smoke.
Suddenly, the earth shook with the pounding of heavy footsteps.
A horn blasted from the forest edge, so loud it drowned out the chanting, and the cheers turned into screams of terror.
"Invaders! The Iron-Fang Tribe is attacking!"
The square immediately turned into a nightmare. Chaos broke out as massive grey wolfmen leaped from the shadows, tearing into the villagers. The tribesmen who were so busy enjoying my demise didn't even look back at me; he scooped up the crying Saintess and bolted away to safety.
The fire at my feet was getting higher, but the stake had been bumped in the rush and was leaning. Even the rope had gone loose.
'Move,' my instincts hissed. 'Move or be roasted.'
With a scream of pure desperation, I threw my weight forward. The charred wood snapped with a crack and I tumbled into the dirt, the hay hooking the edges of my tattered dress.
The pain in my soles was a sharp, biting sting. It had been burned but I didn't care enough to pause and take a look at it.
There was chaos and I doubt the invaders would look upon me lightly just because I looked defenseless.
I picked myself up, scrambling to my feet, my breath coming in ragged gasps. I didn't look back at the burning village. I didn't look at the dying beastmen that were being clawed to death because I believed it served them right.
I turned and ran in the opposite direction, toward the dark, silent forest with my bleeding and stinging sole.
I ran until my lungs felt like they were full of glass. The orange glow of the village faded with the distance, replaced by the cool, silver light of the moon.
I needed water. My body was on fire, not just from the burns, but from a strange, rising heat in my blood that felt like a thick fog to blind my vision.
And finally, after moving for a while longer, I stumbled into a clearing and saw a deep, still pool of water. It looked like a mirror of the night sky.
I didn't hesitate and threw myself in. I didn't even bother to take off my clothes.
The cold from the water was a shock as it hit my skin, but I welcomed it. I let myself sink, the bubbles rushing past my ears. As I drifted toward the dark bottom, sinking like a rock.
The silence of the water embraced me and finally gave me a second to think.
'Who am I?'