The scratch of the rope against his throat was the last thing the original Ed Rothtaylor felt.
Stripped of his noble title, disowned by his family after falsely framing the commoner student Taylee McLore, and thrown into the streets without a single coin, the young man couldn’t bear the weight of his own ruin.
He fled to the back gardens of the majestic Ophelius Hall, tied a rope to the branch of an old oak tree, and let himself fall.
But in the exact moment the lack of oxygen began to shut down his brain, a cosmic defense mechanism activated.
His soul, on the brink of collapse, fractured and violently merged with three other lives it harbored deep within.
There were no voices arguing, no identity crisis.
It was a forging at thousands of degrees.
Four fragments became a single man:
The terror and the basic wind magic knowledge of the original Ed.
The survival discipline, tactical training, and future knowledge of a military veteran (who knew Sylvania not as his life, but as a fictional story).
The mental library of an otaku (who didn’t know how to fight, but perfectly understood the rules of the multiverse, fantasy, and reincarnation tropes).
And finally, an overwhelming shadow that drowned out any weakness: the spirit of King Grey.
The monarch of a distant world ruled by martial arts and ki, who lived at the absolute pinnacle of strength but died alone and empty before his reincarnation.
Fire, steel, memory, and mud were forged into a single, flawless blade.
CRACK!
The rotten branch gave way before his neck did.
Ed fell heavily onto the damp grass.
Coughing violently, his hands instinctively flew to his throat.
Standing over him, with a dagger in hand and breathing heavily, was Belle Mayar.
The head maid had followed him, ready to cut the rope, but the tree had beaten her to it.
Belle looked down at him, expecting the pathetic crying or the pleas of a spoiled brat.
But the boy on the ground stopped coughing.
Slowly, he pushed himself up onto one knee.
His breathing, previously erratic, stabilized into a deep, controlled martial rhythm.
When he looked up at her, Belle felt a chill run down her spine.
Those eyes, which had always been filled with empty arrogance, were now an abyss of cold, piercing gold.
It was the gaze of a duelist king who had slaughtered entire armies.
“A rotten branch…” Ed muttered.
His voice was raspy from the hanging, but hauntingly calm.
“Pathetic.”
Belle took a half-step back, confused by the heavy aura suddenly radiating from the boy.
“Young Master Ed…
Are you alright?
You should go to the infirmary…”
Ed stood up.
His military instinct evaluated escape routes; the noble’s memories identified the maid; and Grey’s apathy blocked out any pain or shame.
At that moment, a translucent pale blue screen appeared in his field of vision.
[Initiating Multiversal Survival System…]
[Memory Synchronization: 100%]
[Status: Mild hypoxia.
Inflamed trachea.
Mana Capacity: Mud-level.]
[Initial Quest: Survive the first night in the Northern Forest.]
The otaku fragment in his mind recognized the interface immediately.
A System.
The standard tool.
He didn’t need to be a genius to understand how to use it; he just needed to follow the prompts.
Ed ignored the screen, treating it as a simple extension of his own senses.
He rubbed his bruised neck, looked at the maid, and gave a slight nod.
A purely transactional gesture.
“That won’t be necessary, Mayar.
I appreciate the intention,” he said coldly.
“I’ll go get my things.”
Without another word, Ed walked toward the entrance of the hall, picked up the modest leather bag left on the steps, and turned his back on his old life.
There was no drama, no promises of revenge.
Only the silence of an apex predator moving toward his new territory.
The wind in the Northern Forest struck like blades of ice.
Ed advanced through the underbrush.
His current body was a disaster: no stamina, physically weak, and with laughable mana reserves.
But his internal control was absolute.
Grey’s memories allowed him to circulate his scarce energy through the meridians of his body, using ki techniques from his past life to keep the cold from paralyzing his muscles.
Reaching a clearing protected by a natural rock wall, the military veteran took practical control.
He quickly identified dry wood, evaluated the wind direction, and decided the angle for his shelter.
He didn’t use his small hunting knife to cut the wood.
That would be inefficient and ruin the blade’s edge.
The original Ed knew one spell: Wind Blade.
Before, this body wasted 80% of its mana reciting useless verses.
This time, Ed simply raised his hand.
Applying King Grey’s ki compression to Sylvania’s basic mana, he condensed the wind into an invisible, razor-sharp edge at his fingertips.
A flick of the wrist, and the thick branch fell cleanly.
In less than an hour, using vines and sturdy branches, he built a triangular lean-to against the rock.
A perfect trench-style shelter.
But he needed fire.
Sitting in front of a pile of dry tinder, Ed extended his index finger.
He didn’t possess fire magic.
However, his military knowledge of friction and Grey’s martial control were more than enough.
He summoned a microscopic Wind Blade and made it rotate at an unnatural hyper-speed against a piece of base wood.
The friction generated extreme heat.
Within seconds, a spark flew.
Then, a stable flame came to life.
Ed pulled his hand back, feeling a twinge of fatigue in his mana channels.
He watched the fire grow, illuminating his pale, cold eyes in the darkness of the forest.
The System blinked.
[Shelter established.
Fire created.]
[Reward: Physical Endurance +1]
Ed dismissed the interface with a thought.
The first night was secured.
Now he had to prepare this fragile human body for the war of survival he knew was coming.