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T/L note:
I'm restarting the translation from the very beginning and giving the entire novel a full retranslation and editing pass for better accuracy, consistency, and readability. I'll be replacing the older version chapter by chapter, and this time I'm hoping to continue all the way to the end. Thank you for reading and for your patience while I work through the novel.
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Late at night, a few lights flickered through the fine drizzle around a castle perched alone on a seaside cliff. The town below had long since gone to sleep. To the commoners who lived there, candles were luxuries reserved for the important people in the castle. Once darkness fell, there was little to do but turn in early.
The castle belonged to a viscount of the Piaoqi Kingdom, a man in the prime of his life with two sons and three daughters.
At that moment, two men sat across from one another in the viscount's study, neither speaking.
A cold wind blew in from the sea. Wisps of chill slipped through a narrow gap that had not been shut properly, making the candles on the desk tremble.
After a long silence, the man seated in a fur-backed chair asked, "Truly? There is no chance at all?"
His voice was calm and steady, and his expression betrayed neither joy nor sorrow. But the old man sitting opposite him knew the castle's master well enough to understand how low his spirits must be.
Even so, the old man refused to tell the viscount what he wanted to hear.
"None at all, my lord. You saw it yourself. Young Master Lance spent a full hour tonight trying to draw the most basic rune and still failed. He cannot even draw it, much less imprint it into his mindscape."
"Forgive my bluntness, but your second son has no aptitude for wizardry. It is not because he is lazy. In the six months he has studied spells under me, he has put forth nearly everything he has. I can see how seriously he takes it, but... I am sorry. Hard work alone cannot make someone a wizard."
"It takes talent."
The old man gave a bitter smile.
"I understand. Thank you, Amman."
Weariness flashed across the viscount's face, but it vanished almost immediately. His expression returned to its usual cold, shrewd composure.
"He has been frail and sickly since childhood. He is sixteen and can barely hold a sword. He is timid; even his younger sisters can ride and hunt, while he hides in the study reading. He has studied magic with you for half a year and still has not mastered even the most basic rune. I truly do not know what else to do with a son like that."
The viscount seemed to be speaking to himself.
"May, I have done what I promised you. I gave him every opportunity, but he could not seize any of them... If I force him to remain in the castle like this, he will only spend the rest of his life miserable."
The old man sat in silence. He and the viscount had been friends for many years, and he knew this mood well. His old friend was making a decision, one that was tearing him in two.
"It seems I can only send him to the Church." A trace of reluctance and helplessness crossed the viscount's face. "I have heard that life for the ascetics is... very harsh."
Amman looked surprised. "The ascetics? My lord, why choose such a path for Young Master Lance? With your connections in Torrent City, you could easily find him a better position. Even if he cannot serve under a bishop, working for one of the more influential priests would still be a respectable future."
The viscount shook his head.
"If he lacks the ability, putting him somewhere so conspicuous would only hurt him. I know my son. He likes books and quiet places, perhaps too much so. His mother wanted him to distinguish himself, so I gave him the chance. But if he cannot take it, then all I can do is make sure he lives out his life in peace."
"The Church's ascetic camp is the most suitable place. There is no struggle for power there, and no one will harm him. The life may be austere, but I believe he can endure it."
Amman said nothing and merely sighed.
In truth, he agreed completely with the viscount. Over the past six months, he had tried every method he knew to teach Lance magic. Amman himself was only a Level 2 Wizard with modest magical power, but in the secular world, especially in a remote place like a viscount's territory, even that was enough to give him extraordinary status. The price the viscount had paid for Lance's lessons far exceeded what he spent educating his other children.
Even so, Lance had failed to learn a single spell rune.
"Poor child..."
The old wizard's gaze fell on the boy lying nearby in a rocking chair, and regret showed in his eyes.
"He has been asleep for three hours. It is time he woke up." Once the decision had been made, the viscount's voice seemed colder.
Amman nodded. "Young Master Lance exhausted his mental power trying to force himself to write a spell rune and lost consciousness. He should have recovered by now. Still, to be safe, I will wake him myself."
The viscount nodded. "Thank you."
Amman gathered his concentration. He was already an old man, and in recent years he had increasingly felt his energy failing him. The spell he was about to cast, [Dew of Tranquility], was only a Level 0 spell, but even so, he had to focus deliberately.
Level 0 spells required no casting materials, a fact universally accepted among wizards. Amman assumed a simple chanting posture and uttered a phrase of roughly six syllables. A small ring of light soon opened above Lance's head, and several drops of pale green dew fell precisely onto his lips.
At that point, Lance knew he could not keep pretending to be asleep.
He had only awakened a short while ago, but he had heard the entire conversation clearly.
Taking a deep breath, he opened his eyes and feigned confusion.
"Teacher... Father..." Lance said weakly, drawing on the memories left behind by the body's former owner.
The old wizard sighed. With obvious reluctance, he patted Lance on the head, then left the viscount's study.
Only father and son remained.
The viscount said nothing, and Lance did not dare speak either. Inside his head, however, he was frantically sorting through information. Sixteen years of another person's memories were vast and tangled. For now, he could only pick through the pieces that seemed useful.
The silent viscount had no idea that his precious son had exhausted his mental power while trying to write magical script and that the boy's original soul had already dispersed.
The person sitting before him now was a soul from another world.
Lance sat there uneasily. After thinking for a while, he managed to establish three basic facts.
First, he had transmigrated.
Second, this world seemed to possess something called wizardry.
Third, the body he had inherited appeared to belong to a complete failure. It was frail, its mental power was poor, and it seemed unsuited to becoming either a warrior or a wizard. His father, at least, appeared to care about him and was even a viscount, but now he seemed ready to give up on him.
...
Those three facts left Lance thoroughly depressed.
Why did everyone else who transmigrated seem to land in some glorious situation, while his was this miserable? While he had been half-conscious, he had heard his father and teacher discussing sending him to some ascetic camp run by the Church. It sounded wretched.
'So even transmigrating wasn't enough to change my luck.'
Lance scratched his head in frustration.
At that exact moment, a crisp female voice sounded beside his ear.
[Welcome to the new-generation master chip produced by Zhongxin Technologies. Genetic sequence registration complete.]
[Chip activation successful. Please assign a name to this chip.]
Lance sat frozen, unable to process what he had just heard.
A chip? What chip? Could it be...
'Could it be one of the gene chips from my old world?'
The memory struck him all at once. His heart began pounding, and he instinctively answered in his mind.
'[Fox].'
The sweet female voice replied: [Master chip successfully named. [Fox] is pleased to serve you.]
[[Fox] is conducting an initial scan of your body. Please wait.]
Lance sat there like a statue. From the viscount's perspective, his son now looked so vacant that he seemed beyond saving.
The viscount coughed heavily.
Lance did not react. His attention was entirely focused on the biochip inside his body.
Before his transmigration, Lance had been a chip salesman.
In the twenty-second century, gene chips of every kind had long since become necessities of everyday life. Lance worked for Zhongxin Technologies, selling the company's gene chips to customers. Zhongxin specialized in the high-end market, and although Lance sold the latest models for a living, he had never had the chance to use those expensive cutting-edge chips himself.
On the day of the accident, he had been rushing to meet a client with a complete set of the company's chips in his possession, including a master chip and numerous subchips. He dashed across the road and was struck by a high-speed maglev vehicle.
When he woke again, his body, or rather his soul, had already arrived in another world.
'I can't be dreaming...'
Lance's heart beat faster and faster.
[Initial scan complete. A friendly reminder from Fox: your body is far weaker than that of an ordinary person. Therefore, aside from the master chip, all installed subchips are temporarily unavailable. Do not forcibly unlock any subchip. Your current body cannot withstand their side effects.]
[Physical Attributes]
Constitution: 0.3
Strength: 0.5
Agility: 0.3
[An ordinary person's three attributes fall between 0.7 and 0.9. It is recommended that you raise your physical condition into this range before attempting to unlock additional subchips.]
As Fox's sweet voice spoke, a stream of pale green data appeared before Lance's left eye. With the master chip coordinating everything, the condition of his body became clear to him in an instant.
Lance steadied himself. He had never used a high-end chip before, but gene chips all worked along broadly similar principles. He ignored the overly complicated data and checked the chips installed in his body.
Only the pale green master chip was active. Every other subchip was gray and inactive.
The sight of row after row of inactive subchips sent a surge of excitement through him.
These were top-of-the-line chips he could never have afforded to use back on Earth, yet now the entire set had somehow been installed in his body and transmigrated along with him.
If he could activate them, he would practically be half superhuman.
[Eagle Eye], [Hungry Wolf], [Super Arc]...
The premium chips sat at the ends of Lance's gene chain. As soon as he met their activation requirements, he could use Fox, the master chip, to bring them online.
Just thinking about it made Lance almost giddy.
"Lance! Are you listening to me or not?"
The viscount, who had been ignored for far too long, finally lost his patience. His eyes were sharp as a hawk's as he glared at his distracted son, looking as though he might explode at any moment.
Lance jolted and immediately sat upright.
"Yes, Father. I'm listening."