Abel-Toril

The castle paid Rodney a salary of 2,000 gold coins a year. To commoners, that was an immense fortune, worth around 800,000 RMB!

Borne had learned through the grapevine that Scholar Rodney taught the children of nobles in Seventon, where his monthly earnings were far more than that.

"Scholar" was a title for the learned, and among commoners, scholars wielded more influence than nobles!

When Rodney was young, Count Ioulaum had looked after him. That was why he had come to this small, remote place.

At first, Rodney hadn't thought much of the amount. Now, the money suddenly felt like a hot potato...

Count Ioulaum was a high-level Arcanist, well-known in Seventon and one of the vice deans at Giles Academy!

Borne didn't know whether this Arcanist was the same as the one in his memories, but he was probably some kind of Mage. Borne didn't dare act too strangely. After setting up a small training ground, he did his best to play the part of a (fake) genius.

Aside from working hard to train his body, he spent his time academically crushing the other children,

trying to act as much like a child his age as possible. And after learning that he had a Mage for a grandfather, he was even more reluctant to do anything strange.

This was a real world, not some brainless novel. He couldn't treat everyone else like fools; everyone had a soul of their own!

He had taken over someone else's child's body. If he went around saying things no one else did and acting in ways that didn't suit his age, wouldn't that be as good as telling everyone there was something wrong with him?

People really were burned at the stake or hanged for being possessed by devils. Borne wouldn't dare bet on whether those ignorant commoners might storm a noble's castle and drag him out to burn him alive.

With beings of supernatural power in this world, could they tear out his soul, or even extract his memories and lock him away somewhere to burn for thousands of years? Plenty of novels and movies had stories like that. Borne didn't want to gamble on the possibility...

Rodney was both delighted and troubled. Having a genius student was certainly cause for celebration, but when that student was too much of a genius, the teacher's stress was more than he could bear...

No matter how much he slowed the pace, Rodney was nearly running out of things to teach. With no other choice, he brought out a language he himself barely knew: Elvish.

He certainly couldn't teach it properly. It was like someone who couldn't speak English still being able to rattle off the twenty-six letters.

"Then, starting today, we'll learn Elvish script," Rodney said.

Borne's eyes lit up at once.

Elves!

They seemed like standard fare in otherworlds. He wondered whether the elves in this world were the same beautiful men and women he remembered.

As for the children who had managed to keep up, Rodney was considering taking a few of them on as students. Anyone who had stuck it out this long had exceptional talent and perseverance. Of course, they couldn't compare to Borne. And setting aside Borne's talent, even just considering his grandfather—his teacher, Count Ioulaum—Borne's future was bound to be extraordinary!

He could only ignore the resentful looks from the other students. Borne was his primary student; the rest were just along for the ride.

There was no one leaping up to challenge authority in the name of fairness, like in the novels. In this strictly hierarchical world, even whispering about such things behind someone's back was a grave crime. If discovered, not only would they be executed, their families might be punished as well.

It was already good enough to be allowed to study. Rodney had taught many nobles, and most of them were extremely strict about spreading knowledge among the lower classes. Many nobles didn't even let their servants or tenant farmers learn to read.

Rodney wrote several Elvish characters on the blackboard, then pointed to one.

"True Elvish script is much more elegant, and it has several different forms."

After giving Borne a moment to look, Rodney continued.

"The two most classic and commonly used forms are also the ones most popular among the nobles of human kingdoms today. This is the Quenya script." He pointed to another. "And this is the Sindarin script."

"To learn Elvish script, you need to know a little about the history of the elven people. Aside from Common, human writing today was also largely adapted from Elvish. After all, we humans don't live as long as elves, and we haven't studied every craft with the same level of mastery."

Rodney had also gotten into his stride. Once he found his rhythm, he could go on boasting without stopping. Especially with a whole group listening, he sank completely into his own world. Until he'd finished, there was no bringing him back.

As Rodney went on, everyone listened, entranced, and lost themselves in dreams of elven culture.

No one noticed Borne's face growing paler and paler.

"After the Three-Leaf War, Eaerlann became the center of elven art and high magic. It was also a place scholars of every race on the continent yearned to visit..."

"At the height of elven civilization, the first civil war broke out. It was known as the 'Crown Wars.' During the war, elves slaughtered one another. Every elf was drawn into the conflict, which also affected many kingdoms and races. Then came the Dark Disaster, which destroyed Eaerlann and left the High Moor a wasteland. Its exact cause can no longer be determined."

Rodney's face was full of regret as he spoke, and his expression brimmed with longing for Maeril.

"Once, in some obscure notes, I came across a few descriptions. You can take them as a joke, but they claimed that the continent we live on was originally one enormous landmass." Rodney wrote a few more characters.

"In Elvish, it means 'the one land.' Human kingdoms today mostly use the elven name, too. Elves' throats are somewhat different from humans', more slender, so it's hard for us to pronounce it the way they do. And in Elvish, the word is pronounced..."

"Faerûn!"

The moment Rodney said those words,

Borne's mind went BOOM—and EXPLODED!

His face turned deathly pale, his teeth chattered nonstop, and cold sweat poured from him.

Rodney, who was standing nearby, immediately noticed something was wrong. He asked with concern,

"Borne, what's the matter? Are you feeling unwell?"

"N-no, I'm fine, Teacher Rodney."

Borne forced a smile. "My stomach's been bothering me today. Maybe I didn't rest well last night."

"Why don't we stop here for today? Go back and get some rest," Rodney said.

"All right." Borne immediately stood and bowed. "Thank you. Sorry for the trouble."

With that, he hurried out of the classroom.

Rodney watched him leave with a worried expression.

The guards outside the classroom stared in surprise as Borne came out looking so pale. They had no idea what had happened.

In less than ten minutes, news of Borne's condition reached Viscount Gordon.

He hurriedly sent for a physician, worried that Borne's "old illness" had returned, then rushed to Borne's room with them.

Borne was lying in bed, staring at them in surprise. Viscount Gordon leaned closer to look him over and saw that he was merely pale, with no other symptoms. He breathed a quiet sigh of relief.

Borne immediately understood that his condition had frightened Viscount Gordon. He couldn't help feeling a little warmth in his heart.

"I'm fine. My stomach was just bothering me, but I feel much better now."

The physician arrived shortly afterward and examined him, but found nothing wrong.

Only then did Viscount Gordon finally relax.

"Get some rest. We'll put your lessons on hold for today. If you need anything, ask one of the maids..."

Knowing that Borne needed to rest, he offered a few more words of concern, then left with the others.

Click...

As he watched the door close, Borne let out a long breath.

His head throbbed a little, too. Rodney's words had stirred up a flood of memories.

The information was jumbled and incomplete, but he understood the broad strokes. As for his physical reaction, it had mostly been caused by fear.

His recovered memories weren't complete, but he had a general idea of where he was!

Abel–Toril!

The most famous world in Dungeons & Dragons!

The history and stories of Toril could fill tens of thousands of novels and scripts!

The starting point of fantasy otherworlds—a tabletop role-playing game that had grown into a worldwide phenomenon.

After generations of development, it had spawned countless products. Almost every fantasy or magic novel and movie bore its influence!

If he had to sum up this world in one sentence, it would be...

Demigods were a dime a dozen, and Liches roamed everywhere!

As a multiverse and the origin of all fantasy and magic, Borne thought he could understand why this world seemed to be filled with malice toward him.

Every transmigrator was a destroyer of history. No world would welcome someone who knew its secrets from the inside.

The butterfly effect wasn't just a saying. Even the tiniest change could send the course of history veering off its original path!

If this were the Tang dynasty, the world of The Return of the Condor Heroes, or some other fictional world, Borne might still be able to change history. But not the D&D world. Not Toril.

Although he didn't know what unknown god or mighty being had given him a new life,

he still had to be grateful to be alive again. Being alive was better than being dead.

The memories of his past life were slowly returning, too. His life hadn't been great, of course. Still, if he'd had a choice, he would've preferred a modern life. It didn't have to be the future; a parallel world would do. He could copy books, sing songs... If the modern world wasn't an option, he could make do in ancient times, with a few confidantes, and live out his days in peace.

But now he'd been dumped into a sword-and-sorcery otherworld.

And not just any world, but the lawless, chaotic, utterly illogical land of Faerûn!

Forget changing the world. He was as good as doomed!

It was pure hell mode. Dying wasn't the problem. It was the thought that his soul might still be stuck in this world after death.

Yes, every sentient creature—or person—in this world had a soul!

Those who died with devout faith could enter a Divine Realm and live forever with their deity!

But someone like Borne, a young man raised under the red flag in a new society, could never believe in the gods. Even if he started believing now, it wouldn't help.

How could he possibly have a truly devout heart? If he dared speak a deity's name, the deity might strike him dead with divine punishment. (His memories were incomplete, so he still didn't understand the difference between fanatics, faithful, and faithless.)

The most likely outcome was that after death, he'd be plastered onto the Wall of the Faithless or swept into the River Styx and carried into the Abyss.

That was how disgusting this world was: without faith, you couldn't even afford to die. If your soul ascended to a higher plane and got caught, they'd use it like a brick to plaster the wall.

This place was known throughout the multiverse as the Wall of the Faithless!

Even if he escaped Faerûn, he could easily end up in the River Styx. Falling into the river was all but certain death, and his memories would slowly be washed away.

The River Styx also led to the Abyss!

The Abyss was terrifying wherever you went!

It even had layers, and a number that was especially auspicious.

666!

Wasn't that especially ironic?

(666 represented devils and demons in the West. It was an unlucky number!)

The Abyss had 666 layers, each of them nearly infinite in size, and was home to almost endless demons!

Even the gods would be killed in minutes down there.

(The Abyss didn't really have exactly 666 layers. It expanded constantly, and no one knew how many layers it had. "666 layers" was just a rough estimate!)