Ben Dover—formerly Ben Carter, physics major and average Earthling—had accepted his new life. More or less.
It had been six years since he'd been yeeted from a dead-end Earthly existence into a forest as a howling infant with a glowing necklace and a nameplate reading "Ben Dover." And while most transmigrators might see this as an invitation to greatness, Ben had... other plans. Namely, to do as little as humanly possible.
He was, in his own words, a "salted fish"—the kind that basked in the sun, flipped over when it got too hot, and avoided unnecessary effort with the precision of a retired cat.
But even a salted fish had standards.
Every morning, just after sunrise, Holy Spirit Village's most eccentric child could be found trotting down the muddy path that led to the spring. A small bucket clanked at his side as he huffed through what he called "training." His self-made routine consisted of:
Running until he collapsed from exhaustion,
Carrying full water buckets back for "resistance training,"
Attempting push-ups and sit-ups, only to fall over like a dying worm.
Ben's belief? "If Saitama could do it, so can I." That logic was watertight—as long as you ignored spirit power, soul rings, and every natural law in Douluo Continent.
The villagers didn't quite know what to make of him. He never played with the other kids. Didn't cry, didn't beg for sweets, didn't chase dogs or throw rocks at chickens. No, Ben just ran, fetched water, and collapsed dramatically on the village square.
Old Meng, the village cobbler, watched him stagger past one day. "That boy's built different," he muttered, puffing on a pipe.
"Is he training to be a Spirit Master?" asked another old man.
"Nah," Meng chuckled. "He's training to be a watermelon."
Ben flopped beneath a tree near the spring and stared up at the sky, sweat clinging to his brow. He fingered the stone pendant hanging from his neck—a mini Evoltruster. The faint red core inside pulsed softly, like a heartbeat. No one else in the village could make sense of it.
Neither can I, Ben thought. Why am I here? Why did I get a weird stone and a dumb name?
His mind flashed back to that moment—standing in the ancient, otherworldly ruins. That stone idol. The center that lit up red. The flash. And then... darkness. Cold. And finally, a baby's cry in a forest.
At the time, he'd thought it was someone else crying. It was him.
Four months after arriving in this world, he finally learned what had broken physics and his brain. He had seen Grandpa Jack harvesting sweet potatoes—only to witness the old man summon a second one out of thin air.
It was like a portal opened, and a glowing, ghostly potato popped into reality.
Ben's scientific mind recoiled in horror.
"You just bent the laws of conservation of mass!" he cried—or, well, thought, since at four months old, his vocabulary was mostly baah!
Only later, when he could form sentences, did he finally ask. "Grandpa Jack... how did you make the potato appear?"
Jack's response had been simple. "That's my Martial Soul."
Cue internal mental breakdown.
At age six, most children in the Douluo Continent awakened their Martial Soul—an innate manifestation of their life essence. Could be a plant, a weapon, an animal. In rarer cases, it was part of the body itself.
"You'll awaken yours soon enough," Grandpa Jack had said. "Then, with luck, you'll be able to cultivate Spirit Power and become a Spirit Master."
Ben wasn't sure how he felt about that. On one hand, having magic powers? Hell yeah. On the other hand, it sounded like work.
His Martial Soul, he suspected, was tied to the Evoltruster. The weird necklace still pulsed now and then, especially when he trained. It wasn't a sword or beast or a stick, but it was definitely something. The energy inside it made his skin buzz when he overexerted himself.
So, he trained—not out of ambition, but paranoia.
If glowing potatoes were real, so were glowing enemies. The last thing he wanted was to be the only salted fish without a weapon.
Back in the village, Ben dropped the water bucket off beside the well. Old Meng waved him over.
"Hey, Dover! Come sit. Got some roasted taro left."
Ben flopped beside the old man and accepted the food gratefully. "Thanks, Uncle Meng."
"You still not playing with the other kids?" Meng asked, blowing ash off his pipe.
"Nope."
"Still training like a mad dog?"
Ben nodded, mouth full. "Gotta be invincible."
Meng snorted. "You're a strange one, Dover. But maybe that's a good thing."
Ben looked at his Evoltruster as it gleamed faintly. He didn't know what kind of Martial Soul he had yet, or if he'd ever get one that made sense.
But one thing was clear.
He wasn't in Kansas anymore. Or Earth. Or anywhere that cared about Newton's Laws. So, salted fish or not, he'd have to be ready.
Awakening day was coming.
And Ben Dover didn't plan on being anyone's background character.