I opened my eyes to the embrace of a soft, luxurious bed, its silk sheets cool against my skin. For a heartbeat, confusion clouded my mind. *This isn't my bed. This isn't my room.*
I sat up slowly and looked around, stunned by the sheer opulence surrounding me—vaulted ceilings carved with golden filigree, heavy velvet drapes framing tall windows, and furniture that gleamed with polished mahogany and inlaid marble. Then the memories crashed over me like a tidal wave. Past-life recollections slammed into my current ones, merging in a violent swirl. I clutched my head as white-hot pain lanced through my skull. The agony was so intense I wanted to scream, but I bit down hard on my lip, enduring the torment in silence for several long minutes until it finally ebbed away.
I exhaled in shaky relief.
*So this is why… Yesterday's awakening ceremony.* The moment I had stepped onto the glowing magic circle, alongside my job change, something had unlocked inside me—my previous life's memories had awakened too.
I ruffled my messy hair, still trying to steady my breathing, and mentally summoned the system panel.
**Name:** Kai
**Age:** 20
**Level/Rank:** 1 (Early Stage)
**Job:** Warrior
**Skill:** Swordsmanship
**Proficiency:** Beginner
**System Points:** 0.0
I nodded once, satisfied, and dismissed the panel with a thought. A wide yawn escaped me. I scratched my tousled hair, kicked the sheets aside, and swung my legs out of bed. The moment I stood, a firm knock echoed through the ornate door.
A calm, melodious voice drifted in from the other side of the door. "Are you decent?"
I glanced down at myself—a plain white t-shirt paired with my favorite pair of cute skeleton-knight pajama pants, the little figures cheerfully wielding tiny swords. *I should buy a matching t-shirt next time,* I thought with a sleepy grin. "Yeah, I'm decent," I called back.
The lock clicked open instantly. In stepped a breathtaking mature beauty, a priestess whose graceful presence seemed to fill the entire room with quiet elegance. Seeing me, she offered a casual smile and greeted, "Good morning, Sir Kai."
I returned a polite nod. She extended her arms and handed me a rolled parchment. The moment I accepted it, she gave a small, graceful bow and quietly left the room, closing the door behind her.
I stared at the parchment in my hands. *Probably a quest from the church.*
Letting out another yawn, I tossed it lazily onto the bed. My whole body ached, exhaustion still clinging to me like a heavy blanket. *Man, no wonder I'm wrecked… that all-night hookup yesterday really did a number on me,* I muttered under my breath as I shuffled toward the bathroom for a much-needed shower.
After showering for nearly forty minutes, I finally stepped out of the bathroom feeling refreshed. I opened the wooden drawer and changed into a simple clean t-shirt and a comfortable pair of night pants. Grabbing the parchment from the bed, I left the room and headed toward the breakfast hall.
Along the corridor, I passed many other youths my age—all at Rank 1 (Early Stage) just like me, each with different combat-oriented jobs. I let out another yawn. *I don't care about the other jobs right now.*
This church headquarters currently housed around 100 to 120 members. I didn't know the exact number, and honestly, I didn't care. They had already announced that by the end of the year, only the top 10 would be allowed to stay. But none of that mattered to me at all.
"Hey, stop!"
The sudden call made me halt. I turned around, blinking in confusion.
What appeared before my eyes was a muscular young man, his face twisted with arrogance. He crossed his arms over his chest and opened his mouth. "Give me your parch—"
Before the words could even finish leaving his lips, I channeled mana into my legs and shot forward in a blur of blinding speed. I appeared right in front of him before he could react. My open palm cracked across his cheek with full force.
The slap was brutal. His teeth shattered on impact, several of them flying out and scattering across the stone floor. I didn't bother counting.
Everyone in the corridor staggered back in shock. The entire thing had happened so fast that no one had time to process it.
When the arrogant youth—Vance—finally crumpled to the ground, his head was spinning, eyes dazed. His own parchment slipped from his fingers and landed beside him.
The others clearly expected me to snatch it up. Instead, I muttered under my breath, "Man, do I really have to pick up that parchment and do the quest? Tch… too much hassle."
Though I had spoken only to myself, the corridor had gone deathly silent. Every single word rang out crystal clear—and now the entire hallway was staring at me in stunned, speechless silence.
Hmm, let me check what kind of task I got.
I broke the wax seal and unrolled the parchment.
**The Miller's Ford Bloodfeud: A Full Accounting**
*(as of the 12th day of Snowmoon, 1274 by the King's Reckoning)*
**Place:** The village of Miller's Ford — a muddy cluster of thirty-seven houses straddling the slow, brown River Murk, three days southwest of High Crag Keep.
**The Prize:** A single overshot watermill built of black stone — the only mill for twenty miles in any direction. Whoever owns the mill owns the valley.
**The Families:**
• **The Blackwaters:** Millers for nine generations. Dour, flour-dusted, and stubborn as grindstones.
Current head: Old Marta Blackwater (73 winters, missing three fingers, still sharp as a flaying knife).
• **The Greysons:** Farmers who claim the mill was built on land deeded to their ancestors by a long-dead duke.
Current head: "Red" Willem Greyson (42, built like an ox, face half-burned from the fire of '69).
**TASK: END THE CONFLICT.**
It took me barely five or six seconds to finish reading.
By the time I lowered the parchment, Vance was already back on his feet, glaring at me with murderous fury.
He opened his mouth again. "Do you know who I—"
Before the word "am" could even form, I lunged forward with even greater blinding speed. His eyes widened in pure horror and he frantically raised both arms to shield his chest.
I didn't care.
My fist punched straight through his guard. Bones snapped like dry twigs under the impact. The sheer force hurled him backward at blinding speed, slamming him hard into the stone wall with a sickening crunch.
Vance crumpled to the floor, coughing up a thick mouthful of blood. His arms dangled uselessly at his sides, both completely shattered. When he finally forced his head up to look at me, I stared back with a completely flat, emotionless expression.
The entire corridor understood what that look meant: if he uttered even one more word, it would be far worse.
Vance understood perfectly. He swallowed hard.
I held his gaze for two long seconds, then turned and walked away without another glance.
Only after I had moved on did Vance finally break. Despite the excruciating pain ripping through his body, he didn't scream or shout for help—he simply collapsed into quiet, broken sobs, whimpering desperately for aid.
As the church headquarters staff carried the groaning Vance away on a stretcher, his parchment lay forgotten on the cold stone floor.
Seeing this, Vance desperately stretched out one of his shattered arms and begged in a broken voice, "P-please… pick up my parchment…"
The staff member didn't even glance down. Clearly having handled this exact situation countless times before, he replied in a completely flat, indifferent tone:
"No."
Vance's face collapsed in utter despair.
In the next instant, the other youths swarmed forward like hungry wolves, shoving and fighting one another to snatch up the discarded parchment.
Even as he was hauled away, I could feel Vance's gaze burning into my back—twisted with pure, venomous hatred.