rbgb6491

Create a bill that punishes corrupt officials with death!"

But then they say: "Killing is against the law. They're human too, and have a right to live!"

Damn those so-called Human Rights activists.

Anyone running for office should serve the people, not exploit them.

And yet, time and again—
They hunger for power.
They bend the laws.
They steal the people’s taxes.

I was nothing but a small internet café owner, struggling to pay bills. But my life changed when I stumbled upon someone in a dark web forum. A shadow with a code name, who taught me everything—from basic programming to breaching secure national servers.

I became an anonymous whistleblower.
Exposed corrupt politicians.
Flooded social media with undeniable proof.

But one night, I made a mistake.
I forgot to activate my VPN. Forgot to scramble my signal.

And they came.
Secret agents. Black ops.

They didn’t arrest me.
They executed me.

I thought that was the end.

But fate had other plans.

I woke up… not on Earth…

…in a world ruled by mana and aura.

A world where kingdoms rise and fall by the strength of their swordsmen and mages…
…where corruption bleeds through nobility like poison in wine.

And this time, I won’t make the same mistake.

This time, I’ll burn their world from the inside out.

The Ruthless Magic Swordsman

A broad-winged hawk circled over House Verentis, dropped once, and was gone.

In its bronze leg-tube lay parchment pressed with the dragon seal of the Imperial Mage Academy.

By decree of His Radiance, First Arch-Chancellor Kestrel, you are invited to enrol in the Winter Convocation of the Academy Arcana Imperialis. Attendance is expected.

"Expected," Achilles murmured, eyes flat. Ordered.

His parents tried to hide their worry.

What he did not add: because their archive holds root-level spell schematics—and because walking into the lion's den was the quickest way to measure its teeth.

The road to the capital shimmered under early snow.

Inside his shuttered carriage Achilles sat motionless, System text scrolling across his vision.

>>> decrypt META_RUNFILE (phase-1) …

/* BACKUP-CORE : ACHILLES_ORIGINAL_BUILD */

The file—gift from the fog-born Echo—refused to open further, but what little he'd seen chilled him.

> build-time stamp: pre-world / pre-mana.

> "You weren't reborn here—you were returned."

The questions rang colder than the wind through the coach slats.

Capital skyline: spires of mana-glass, banners like living flame.

The Academy itself sprawled behind triple walls—part cathedral, part fortress, part laboratory.

Layers of detection wards fluttered as the convoy rolled beneath them.

>>> academy scry strength: grade-7

Students in colored sashes whispered; instructors measured him with the eyes of jewelers evaluating a rare gem—or a dangerous blade.

Arch-Chancellor Kestrel greeted him on the High Court stairs, smile scholarly, eyes calculating.

> "Lord Achilles, our halls await your brilliance. I dare say the Empire has never seen your like."

They still haven't, he thought. They're only looking at the surface layer.

A herald recited pairings for the week's exhibition bouts:

3rd-Tier	Ser Calwyn Arvane	Sword/Aura	1st-Rate

4th-Circle	Initiate Myra Gelor	Storm Magic	Rapid-chant savant

Special	Vacant	TBA	Imperial Selection

The "special" slot pulsed in red ink—empty, waiting.

Achilles recognised a trap shaped like an honour.

5. Night Study • Self-Interrogation

In the dormitory tower he unpacked nothing, choosing instead the window ledge.

Below, the Academy's central ley-node hummed—raw mana coursing like server current.

> Q1: If I am the source, why was an echo left behind?

Q2: What caused the world fork that killed me, saved me, and rebooted me here?

Q3: What failsafe triggers when the original build reconnects?

No answers. Only another line of scrolling code:

>>> request: additional entropy – live core data required

They want me on their duelling stage, he realised. Because clash-level mana will feed every scry crystal in these walls—and maybe feed the file, too.

High in a faculty loft, Agent Bell observed through a pinhole ward.

> "He hasn't smiled once," she whispered to her log.

"He stares at the sky like he owns the source code for sunrise."

But even she felt the weight of the question curling through the capital:

> If Achilles Verentis is truly the original…

What happens when he finishes rebooting?

The Gilded Classroom