Just after being chosen by that bizarre system and transported to this otherworld called "Aran," Shel struggled to adapt.
But there was no choice—the mission had already begun.
Worse, this system was deeply unsettling. It had issued only one vague directive, offering zero tangible aid or hints.
Its voice boomed like a temple bell: "Shel, rejoice! You are the chosen one destined for this grand endeavor—you now stand on the Western Continent of the Aland World.
"For centuries, this land has suffered through wars of division.
"Soon, however, a mighty empire will rise swiftly, sweeping across most of the continent within decades.
"And its ruler? A tyrant of unparalleled cruelty—a true Fiend.
"Your task: find this monster before their rise. Become their right hand, even their friend. Then guide them onto the righteous path to become a worthy sovereign.
"Fail, and the empire will crumble under their brutal rule. The Western Continent will drown in endless chaos.
"As your system, I shall assist you in completing this arduous duty efficiently! Upon success, you shall receive your deepest desire!"
The challenge intrigued him.
"What help will you give me?" Shel asked, genuinely curious.
He’d already transmigrated—might as well find purpose.
The system replied: "Magic exists here. Mages reign supreme. My aid? I grant you innate talent for spellcasting, fluency in this world’s major tongues, and several grimoires. Mastery depends on you."
"Sounds... underwhelming. Anything else?"
"Nothing more." With a cheerful *Ding!*, the system dropped several black leather-bound books before Shel. "That’s all! Now go forth, Shel!"
Shel froze for a moment. "You never told me where this future tyrant *is*."
"I don’t know," the system admitted earnestly. "I know only of the empire and its Fiendish ruler. Nothing else."
"Not even a hint?"
"None. That’s why you must search." The system’s tone turned matter-of-fact. "Didn’t I give you an astrology primer? Master the stars. Let celestial signs guide you. Destiny will lead you to your target."
A heavy silence hung in the air.
"...How vast is the Western Continent of this Aland World? Roughly how many nations exist?"
The system calculated swiftly. "Approximately eight million square kilometers. Seven hundred nations recognized by the Eternal Church. Over two hundred unrecognized states. Any could birth that future empire."
"*How* am I supposed to find them?!"
He almost threw his hands up and walked away. "Who knows where this future emperor even *is*?"
"No rush, Shel. Panic won’t free you." The system remained utterly calm. "You cannot leave until all tasks are complete. Trust the guidance of eternal fate. It will lead you. Farewell, Shel. I enter dormancy now."
After that, the system never spoke again.
And so, his journey began.
Thanks to magic and alchemy, the Western Continent of the Aland World avoided the filth and chaos of medieval Europe. The Eternal Church—far more reliable than Rome’s—kept order.
Yet as a transmigrator, Shel still found every step like wading through mud.
The people of Aland were simple and hospitable. Over his travels, Shel encountered bloodthirsty bandits, manor lords ambushing merchants, city gangs monopolizing underworld trades, heretics performing brutal sacrificial rites...
Even in his darkest hours, the system never reappeared. Never offered aid.
His survival hinged solely on those grimoires.
Years of study taught him basic elemental spells—child’s play to professional Mages, but enough to scare illiterate thugs, win street fights, or earn coin through performances.
Thus, he wandered, hunting the "future tyrant."
A cheap crystal ball bought from a mage’s guild hinted at his target’s location.
The constellations seemed to point toward "Great Darksend" in the continent’s east—a region of hundreds of scattered states.
Along the way, he earned funds by writing letters for villagers, performing street magic, and robbing robbers.
From the western coasts, he traveled north along rivers, then west through mountains, finally braving endless black forests and swamps. At last, he reached the state of "Ipoli."
The boy who’d arrived was now a young man.
Truthfully, he doubted Ipoli was the right place.
Its aging king ruled only a few small cities—hardly the cradle of an empire. His sons were either hot-headed brutes or pleasure-seeking playboys. His grandchildren were still children.
Watching them, Shel felt certain he’d made a mistake.
Still, as a Mage, he was respected even in this backwater.
The century-old king personally received him, requesting a "youth-restoring" magical potion.
Local knights brought gifts, begging for weapon enchantments.
Princes invited him to feasts and balls, eager for tales of his travels.
Fellow Mages exchanged knowledge with him...
Though poor, Ipoli knew no plagues or disasters.
Clashes between states were mere skirmishes of hundreds—peaceful enough.
Shel grew weary.
When he heard the church school’s math teacher had been dragged away as a "Fiend-possessed" man after inappropriate relations with a sheep, Shel volunteered for the post.
Perhaps there was no "continent-ruling tyrant." No transmigrator. No system. Just delusions.
Maybe he was simply a wandering Mage who’d forgotten his past.
He decided to settle here.
Seeking purpose—and despite doubting his skill with children—he became the church school’s math teacher.
It was here he met Lofna.
His student.
