The last thing Alfred heard on Earth wasn't a magical incantation or a hero's call to arms. It was the screech of a snapping cable and a construction worker's panicked, "Watch out!"
A three-ton I-beam is a very efficient teacher of physics. Alfred didn't even have time to drop his backpack before the world went black. Note to self, he thought in the final microsecond of consciousness, gravity is a heartless mistress.
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[System Initializing...]
[Host Biological Functions: Re-starting...]
[Location: The Continent – Redania, Tretogor Orphanage]
[Status: Reincarnation Successful. Warning: Low structural integrity of current vessel.]
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Alfred's eyes snapped open. Everything was blurry, loud, and smelled like damp hay and unwashed wool. He tried to complain—to ask why the I-beam tasted like pennies—but all that came out was a high-pitched, wet wail.
"A boy, Lena," a raspy voice whispered. "A beautiful boy."
Alfred felt himself being held by trembling, thin arms. He looked up, his infant vision struggling to focus on a woman with pale skin and hair the color of corn silk. She looked like a portrait from a museum, but her breathing was ragged, a rhythmic rattling that Alfred's modern brain instantly recognized as pulmonary edema.
"His name... Alfred," she gasped, pressing a final, feverish kiss to his forehead.
As her arms went limp and the frantic shouting of a midwife filled the room, a glowing blue interface flickered into Alfred's vision, visible only to him.
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[Primary Mission Triggered: Survival.]
[Genetic Analysis: Royal Blood detected (Illegitimate). Hostility Level: High.]
[Mother Status: Deceased. Cause: Postpartum Hemorrhage + Malnutrition.]
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Alfred felt a cold, hollow pit in his stomach. He was an orphan. Again. In a world that sounded like it hadn't discovered penicillin yet.
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[Calculating Compensation for 'Unscheduled Demise by Construction Equipment'...][Starter Pack Unlocked: 'The Architect of Truth' package.]
Knowledge Base: Basic Chemistry & Distillation (Level 1)
Skill: Material Identification (The ability to see the molecular potential of "trash")
Expertise: Sterile Field Generation (Passive: Reductions in local infection rates)
Bonus Item: 100 System Points
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Welcome to the Dark Ages, Alfred, the System pulsed in a calm, almost mocking blue light. The world thinks magic is a curse. Prove them wrong with a periodic table.
Alfred closed his eyes as the midwife wrapped him in a rough, scratchy blanket. He didn't cry for his mother—he didn't have the breath yet. Instead, he watched the System's data-streams flow.
If this world wanted to treat science like a demon, he was going to be the most logical "demon" they had ever seen.
*****
Five years in a Redanian orphanage had taught Alfred two things: the gruel was nutritionally void, and medieval peasants were terrified of anything that didn't involve a prayer or a plow.
At age five, Alfred stood on a wooden crate in the village square, surrounded by a dozen men with torches and rusted pitchforks. His "crime"? He had been caught "boiling rocks and bird droppings" behind the chapel.
"He's a witch-ling!" shouted Barnaby, the local blacksmith. "I saw the pot glowing! He's summoning the fire-devils!"
Alfred sighed, adjusting his oversized tunic. He looked less like a demon and more like a bored scholar who hadn't had his morning coffee.
"Barnaby, please," Alfred said, his voice high-pitched but annoyingly calm. "We've discussed this. Fire isn't a 'devil.' It's a rapid oxidation process. Specifically, we are dealing with the First Law of Thermodynamics. Energy cannot be created or destroyed, only transformed. I wasn't summoning a demon; I was simply rearranging the chemical potential energy of saltpeter, sulfur, and charcoal."
The mob went silent. They stared at him as if he were speaking a language from the moon.
"He's casting a spell!" someone yelled. "The 'Law of Termo-dy-what' is a curse! Burn the boy!"
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[System Notification: Warning!]
[Aggression Levels: 94%. Probability of 'Quick Death' is critical.]
[Suggestion: Cease the lecture. Deploy 'Physical Argument' immediately.]
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"Fine," Alfred muttered. "If you won't listen to the theory, you'll have to observe the application."
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, clay pot sealed with wax. He had spent his last 50 System Points on [Expertise: Precise Combustion Ratios].
"Everyone back up," Alfred commanded.
"Or what, brat?" Barnaby sneered, stepping forward with his pitchfork.
Alfred tossed the pot into a stone fire-pit ten feet away. "Or physics happens."
BOOM.
A deafening roar shattered the evening air. A flash of brilliant orange and white light blinded the mob, followed by a cloud of thick, acrid grey smoke. The shockwave knocked Barnaby flat on his backside, and the rest of the men stumbled back, dropping their torches in terror.
When the smoke cleared, the fire-pit was gone, reduced to a blackened crater.
"That," Alfred said, waving away the smoke, "was Gunpowder. No mana, no demons, just a bit of sulfur, charcoal, and potassium nitrate mixed in a 10:15:75 ratio. It's not 'playing with fire.' It's knowing exactly how much fire the air can handle."
The mob didn't run. They stared at the crater, then at the five-year-old boy, and then back at the crater.
"You... you did that with rocks?" Barnaby asked, his voice trembling—not with fear, but with a sudden, sharp greed. "No chanting? No blood of a virgin?"
"Just math and chemistry," Alfred said.
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[Task Complete: Prevent Lynch Mob via Rapid Chemical Expansion.]
[Reward: 200 System Points.]
[New Skill Unlocked: Industrial Engineering (Basic).]
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The local priest, who had been hiding behind a barrel, stepped out. "Tell me more about this... 'Termo-dynamic' protection. Could it... could it make a field grow faster? Or perhaps blast a tunnel through the North Mountain?"
Alfred smirked. The fear was still there, but it had been replaced by the one thing stronger than superstition: Utility.
"It can do all of that," Alfred said, stepping down from his crate. "But first, we're going to need a bigger laboratory. And someone to help me fetch the bat guano."