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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 0
Chapter Title: Prologue
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◈ Prologue.
The first memory of my life was my mother's womb. Wiggling feet. A beating heart.
I remember a scene where my head was tucked between my legs in a dark environment.
It was remarkably comfortable and warm.
How can a person remember being in the womb, you ask?
It's because I had Hyperthymesia (HSAM). Well, you could say it was mixed with a sort of perfect memory ability.
Thanks to that, on Earth, I was a walking encyclopedia.
Just think about it. I remember the memory, the emotions, even my parents' expressions when I took my first steps.
I remember everything.
I remember every single line and scene from every drama, documentary, movie, comic, anime, and book I've ever seen.
'Thanks to that, life was pretty comfortable. I was successful, too.'
Because I used everything I remembered to survive in this damned fantasy world.
A modern person living in the medieval era. It's no ordinary feat. After just one day, I was already dreaming of a proper mattress.
I used my memory to create all sorts of things.
Here, I was a Pioneer, a Visionary, and a Prophet.
Because I literally heralded the beginning of the Magical Engineering era in this cliché medieval fantasy world.
Heh, the looks on their faces when I first built a magical engineering train.
Yes, it was like a fantasy version of the Industrial Revolution.
Should I call it the Magical Revolution?
I had no worries. After all, I was a South Korean man in my late twenties who had lived immersed in a flood of all kinds of content.
"Cough-!"
They say your life flashes before your eyes when you're about to die.
Why are these thoughts coming to me as I'm dying?
Outside the window, magical fireworks were exploding, and the people were cheering.
And in that moment of jubilation, I was dying.
"Gah-! Was it the Emperor? Or those noble bastards?"
I asked, swallowing the blood that surged up my throat.
It was a potent poison. The artifact was glowing brightly, trying to detoxify it, but the poison was spreading through my body faster than it could be neutralized.
My body lost its strength, and I collapsed to the floor, taking the items on my desk with me.
The wine I had poured for my own small celebration mixed with the blood I coughed up, forming a red puddle.
The men in black masks didn't answer, as if to give no information, simply watching me die with expressionless faces.
Waiting for my last breath.
But their silence, in itself, gave me information.
"Heh... Right. The Emperor. Yes, it was the Emperor. After all I did to make a king an emperor. There's a limit to repaying kindness with betrayal."
A perfect case of 'boiling the hound after the hunt.' The surging blood made it hard to speak.
But why, even in a moment like this, am I thinking of a movie I saw on Earth?
"Fuck. It's a good day to die."
In the happiest of moments. On the day all the people cheered to celebrate the birth of the Empire.
I died.
Killed by the very Empire I had built with my own hands.
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 1
Chapter Title: Even Possession is Possible
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My life was anything but peaceful.
If I were to summarize my life in this fantasy world… No, I'm not even sure if I could summarize it properly.
Anyone looking in would have called it a truly eventful life.
I wasn't even hit by a truck, yet I ended up in another world. Relying on my memory alone, I became Da Vinci, then a mercenary captain, and finally, a strategist like Zhuge Liang who built a kingdom into an empire—only to be discarded after I was no longer useful.
Just thinking about it pisses me off again. That damn emperor.
I experienced and orchestrated things I could never have imagined on Earth.
After all, the common occurrences in a fantasy world are often far removed from the moral compass of an ordinary person from Earth.
It might be a cowardly excuse, but I had to survive back then.
I had to turn the kingdom into an empire. It was the only way to prove my worth, a milestone of my success.
That's why I'd sometimes thought about holing up somewhere quiet after achieving all my goals.
Because I could never forget a single minute, a single second of that life. I doubt I'll be able to, even in death.
But for the last thought in my life to be revenge, not regret, reflection, or nostalgia…
I wish I could have at least landed one punch on the face of that damn emperor who ordered my death.
Was my life flashing before my eyes? Faint, blurry memories appeared before me.
But they weren't my memories.
You can't weave a story from fragments of pictures, but I knew for certain that story wasn't mine.
Those fragmented images were of memories that didn't exist in my own.
Why was someone else's life flashing before my eyes at the moment of my death? It's not like my own life was some kind of error.
[...Synchro...nization... not match...ing, scatter...ing.]
The memory fragments scattered, and a voice like one from a static-filled radio tickled my ears.
[Forc...ing... progress...ion.]
Guhhhh-!
I let out a silent scream, flailing my arms as I desperately sought oxygen.
"Haaah-!"
Like someone surfacing from the deep sea, I gasped for air, my lungs screaming for oxygen.
"Gasp—gasp—gasp—!"
*Clang-!*
"Shut up, you bastard! Making all that noise! Won't you shut your mouth?!"
But before I could even get my bearings, someone's shout rang out.
"Bastard. Tough one, aren't you? And here I thought I'd be cleaning up another corpse."
*Was he talking to me?*
*Clink-*
As I gasped for breath, the sound of chains echoed with every movement.
"Hah—hah—what, I'm not dead?"
I muttered quietly, my breathing finally steadying as I looked around.
*Clang-! Clang-!*
"All of you, shut your traps and be quiet! Who's groaning over there!"
The poison I'd been given was definitely one no one could survive.
"It's... not over?"
"I said shut up! Stay still as a dead mouse until morning!"
I heard the shouting, but I had no time to pay it any mind.
I was baffled. No, beyond baffled—I was completely bewildered.
Looking down, I saw my body had pale skin, as if it hadn't seen a single ray of sunlight.
A far cry from the scarred, tanned, and inelastic skin of my 40-year-old self just before death. This skin was clearly young.
It was me, but it wasn't me.
And the chains shackled to both my arms.
Huh? Chains?
Only then, pressing down on a throbbing headache, did I look around and see sturdy iron bars. And here and there, small candles were set up.
From the surrounding cages, I could hear sporadic groans of pain.
Blinking a few times, I felt my senses slowly returning.
*'A slave...?'*
I could close my eyes and open them, I could rub them, but the reality didn't change.
Where on earth am I? Another fantasy world?
The confusion was brief.
As if I were Sherlock himself, I quickly gathered and pieced together the information around me.
It was a natural reaction, a habit etched deep into my soul from over forty years of living as one of the weak.
There was too little information. When it was, where I was.
First, it was clear this wasn't an entirely different world. The language that man used was definitely the Imperial tongue I knew.
If it had been another world, I might have felt wronged. The list of things to worry about, starting with learning a new language, would have been endless.
Then, the year? I couldn't know for now. But... I was definitely poisoned to death...
Amidst the faintly flickering candlelight, I observed the man guarding the slaves.
Even without asking questions—not that he'd answer obediently if I did—there was plenty of information to be gained.
*'First, his clothes. They're quite thick. It's either winter, or we're somewhere similar to the north, if not the north itself.'*
The north, where slave traders operate.
Most slave traders had distinct territories. Since it was an illegal business, establishing and managing routes cost a great deal of money.
Naturally, such routes were bound to be limited.
As the information settled in my mind, my bewilderment downgraded back to mere bafflement.
Perhaps it was because I'd already experienced the absurd once before. The kind of thing that circulates on the internet as a meme for the worst novel opening.
It's an unfamiliar ceiling.
I had actually lived through it. And now, it seemed a similar situation had befallen me again.
The first time is always the hardest; the second is easier.
"I've been to another world, so I guess possession is possible too, huh."
No matter how I thought about it, possession was the only answer.
And into the body of a slave being sold off somewhere, at that.
***
Once I'd gathered my wits a little, my whole body ached. It wasn't just pain; it was the kind of soreness you feel after being beaten.
It was clear I'd been beaten by the man outside or his companions.
"Hahk—ptooey. This bastard's dead. He was looking pretty sick."
The man checking on the slaves clicked his tongue at one who didn't stir even when poked with a stick, then dragged the body out of the cage.
*Ugh-!*
The stench of the corpse, so foul it felt like it was turning my insides out, brought back vivid memories of the moments before my death.
The inability to forget was less a blessing and more a curse.
Not being able to forget was one thing, but everything, down to the emotions of that moment, came flooding back to life.
Just like now.
The pain and emotions I felt right up until my death resurfaced with startling clarity.
*'Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Those sons of bitches.'*
What the hell went wrong, where, and how? Why was I cast aside like that?
No matter how I sifted through my memories, nothing specific came to mind. Even recalling everything, there had been no hint of it.
I had thought the Emperor and I were the closest of friends.
*'If not, then it must have been carried out literally without my knowledge.'*
A full decade. That's how long it took to build the kingdom into an empire. And for those ten years, I can say with certainty that I poured my entire being into it.
*'And they discard someone like this?'*
Rage boiled within me. Betrayal and a thirst for revenge rose up to my throat, but...
I caught my breath.
I will have my revenge. But not now. Right now, nothing was certain.
Who on earth was the original owner of this body, to be bound and thrown in a cage like an animal?
How was I going to escape from here? Everything was a question.
***
"Hey—shift change."
The tent flap was pushed aside and someone entered.
"Already?"
"Hehe. What were you doing that you lost track of time? Having some fun? What? That bastard was alive?"
The man who entered was startled to see the slave stir and glance at him.
"He's a tough one. A monster. Look at him, not a single bruise after being beaten that badly. He was vomiting and making a huge fuss."
The original owner of this body must have died then. That must be how I ended up in it.
"Look at him, blonde hair but black eyes. He's got to be half-demon. No matter how much of a fit he throws, he doesn't get a single scratch. That's not human."
"A demon? Don't say such unlucky things. Anyway, thanks to that, we can probably sell him for a high price, so that's good. He's got a damn pretty face, doesn't he? That's why the boss treasures him."
"Heh heh. Well, thanks to him, I get to blow off some steam. What else is there to do in this cold land?"
"Just make sure you don't kill him. It was close this time. You know what'll happen if the boss finds out."
If the 'product' was damaged, the boss would surely raise hell, but for some reason, no matter how much they whipped that demon-like slave, he never got injured.
For a moment, I couldn't believe my ears.
*'What? Blonde hair and black eyes...?'*
Bright yellow-blonde hair. Contrasting with vivid black eyes. These were the distinct physical traits of the race known to have been blessed by the gods.
Across this entire continent, they were the only ones with blonde hair and black eyes.
*'I used to call them all sorts of names. Barbarians, Gigantes, Titans. And...'*
The Heracles Clan.
Of course, the people here wouldn't know of a being called Heracles.
It was a compliment born of my personal respect for them.
They were the most difficult enemies I faced while building the empire. At the same time, it was the greatest regret of my entire life.
Because the race I had destroyed with my own hands was the Heracles Clan.
The war against them was a truly horrific year. Their numbers were small. A mere handful.
However, the number of soldiers and knights sacrificed to defeat that handful was beyond count.
Their overwhelming strength, stamina, and even regenerative abilities—their innate physical prowess was more than enough to cover for their numbers, dozens, even hundreds of times over.
It was no joke; rumors even circulated that if they'd had greater numbers or just a bit more ambition, this continent would have become the land of the Heracles Clan.
And if I truly had been reborn into the body of a member of the Heracles Clan...
I don't know what kind of twisted fate this is, but...
*'These genes are completely fucking broken...?!'*
I even started to think this might be a trick of the gods. To get revenge in the body of a race I myself destroyed.
What kind of cruel twist of fate is this?
However, if this body was the real deal, revenge would surely be easier. My past self had no physical power to speak of.
A thrill washed over me.
Of course, escaping my current situation was the first priority.
*'But why is a guy with these insane genes locked up in here? He should be able to just snap these chains and kill everyone.'*
After all, I can't do anything as a slave. Not as a human being with free will.
***
This body definitely seems to belong to the Heracles Clan. The throbbing pain from yesterday has faded to a mere stiffness after just one day.
The hunger from not eating properly was even more pronounced than the pain.
*Crrreak—*
My strength was the same. These chains didn't seem to be ordinary, but when I flexed, they strained as if they would snap at any moment, slowly bending apart.
With just a little more force, it looked like I could break them completely.
*'I tried it all. I tried everything.'*
In the past, during the war with them, I tried every method imaginable to capture them alive, but nothing worked.
The best method was simply to kill them on the spot.
Artifacts that suppress strength? All useless. If they could be controlled by such artifacts, I wouldn't have struggled so much.
No matter how much I thought about it, I still couldn't figure out why this person, before he died, was captured by mere slave traders.
And as expected, this was the north. To be precise, the entrance to the north. We were heading north.
Judging by the surroundings, our current location seemed to be the Valar region. The slave traders appeared to be heading for the Robson area, the northernmost frontier.
A place that boasted the worst cold imaginable. If not for the cold, the view was spectacular. Of course, one also had to add the welcoming parties of various monsters adapted to the cold.
*'About fifty slaves in total?'*
Of course, there were some other races and women mixed in, but most of the slaves were human males. Able-bodied ones at that.
Meaning these slaves were for a specific purpose.
*'About twenty escort mercenaries.'*
Judging by the number and arrangement of the wagons, there were about twenty escorts. There was a reason they only gave the slaves just enough food to not die.
When you're hungry, cold, and uncomfortable, you won't have the energy to try anything.
If the slaves lacked the strength to escape, the traders could continue this business with a small crew. The money saved on guards would be their profit.
"You son of a bitch! Ahh! Fuck! Fuck! You definitely cheated. There's no way I'd keep getting hands like that otherwise!"
And that night, as the biting cold grew harsher, signaling our approach to the north, an enraged guard stormed into the slave pen, kicking the iron bars.
He'd probably lost big in a gambling game meant to pass the time. Such a foul mouth.
*Screech.*
And just as I expected, the man, panting raggedly with rage, unlocked the cage and stepped inside.
It was obvious he intended to take out his stress on my body, which wouldn't even show a wound.
"You're going to take a beating. I can't help it. We gave you that medicine a while ago. You won't be able to rampage like when we captured you."
Aha. So they fed this body all sorts of poisonous herbs to capture it alive. It seemed the original soul of this body had passed on due to the combination of those herbs and the beating.
Now I understood.
Poisonous herbs would explain why he couldn't use his strength and was captured. Of course, they'd have to use a large, steady supply of them to keep his power suppressed.
The important thing is, that doesn't apply to me, does it?
And the moment that man extended his leg, intending to land a soccer kick...
*Crrrack—*
The chains bolted to the floor were easily ripped out by my pull, and I used my hands and legs to grab his leg and spin my body.
In jiu-jitsu, they call this an Imanari roll, don't they?
"Ugh-!"
And as he fell with a strange cry, I twisted his leg without hesitation.
Before a scream could escape, I reached out and clamped a hand over his mouth.
A simple scream would have been fine. These guys seemed to think of beating slaves as a form of entertainment. A short scream would be nothing.
*Krrrk—*
After covering his mouth, it was simple. All I had to do was twist his neck 180 degrees with all my might.
This wasn't the realm of skill. It was the realm of a little technique and just monstrous strength.
*Grumble—*
My stomach roared with hunger after just that little bit of movement.
*Ssssp.*
*Crack—*
The chains binding my neck and wrists tore apart like paper.
At the sudden commotion, all the slaves in the cages fixed their gazes on me. At the same time, I could see eyes filled with hope.
I stuffed my mouth full of the snacks the guards had brought to eat on their watch, then tossed the key he was carrying to a nearby cage.
They would figure out how to free each other.
I wasn't full, but after satisfying the worst of my hunger, I picked up a nearby iron bar.
"A crowbar?"
It looked like it had been left there to pry open crates.
The ultimate weapon used by Gordon Freeman to beat down belligerent aliens and the space federation to save the Earth.
*Whoosh—*
It made a satisfying sound with every swing. Enough to crush a skull, for sure.
"Nice."
Suddenly, I remembered a famous Japanese drama I'd seen on Earth.
*'I'll pay you back for what you did! Twice over!'*
To the Empire, and for starters, to these slave traders.