The air in William's living room was heavy — a stagnant cocktail of greasy pepperoni pizza, expensive cologne, and the low hum of high-end electronics. The main source of light wasn't the setting sun outside, but the aggressive, bluish glare emanating from a massive 70-inch 4K television that dominated the wall like a digital altar.
Sitting on the edge of the luxury designer sofa, Arthur watched the screen with a focused, almost clinical gaze. Beside him, William was a whirlwind of frantic energy. His knuckles were white from gripping the controller buttons so tightly, his thumbs moving with a precision honed by thousands of hours of competitive gaming. On the screen, a rain of swords and magical particles erupted in a chaotic dance of pixels.
— "I'm telling you, Art," William grumbled, his eyes locked on a boss's health bar. "The pacing of these stories is always awful. If I were the protagonist of 'Solo Leveling,' I wouldn't spend half the season whining. I'd level up ten times faster. I'd optimize progression, build a top-tier harem, and have all those S-Rank hunters signed to my guild before the first gate even fully opened."
Arthur let out a short, tired sigh, adjusting his glasses. His mind, shaped by years of studying corporate management and the nuances of art history, instinctively sought the structural flaws in William's logic. He preferred the "why" and "how" to the fantasy of "raw power."
— "Jin Woo survived because he was cautious, William. He was analytical. He treated every encounter like a high-stakes chess match," Arthur replied in a dry, pragmatic tone. "If it were you, you would have tried to Krav Maga punch an S-Rank boss in the first sixty seconds. You'd be dead before the anime opening even finished, and the story would end with a very expensive funeral."
— "Hahahaha, brutal as always," William laughed, finally defeating the boss and leaning back with a triumphant smile. "But what about you? What would you be in that world? The mid-level bureaucrat who draws the maps for the hero? The guy who manages the guild's tax returns?"
— "In a world that demands exceptional physical conditioning and magical aptitude? I wouldn't last long either," Arthur admitted, his eyes wandering to the stack of art history books on the coffee table. "I'd probably be the guy trying to archive civilization before it gets trampled by a giant."
Suddenly, the image on the television began to glitch. At first, it looked like a simple HDMI failure — a few flickering green lines. But then, small, blinding white dots began to appear in the corners of the screen, like digital mold. On William's computer in the background, the anime they had been watching started emitting a terrifying metallic screech, sounding like a saw blade hitting bone.
— "Wait, is the TV acting up? I just bought this thing!" William frowned, leaning forward to inspect the cables.
Before Arthur could suggest a hard reboot, the screen's brightness spiked to an unnatural, impossible level. It was no longer just the glow of a backlight; it was a physical beam of pure, incandescent light that seemed to erupt from the center of the room. It swallowed the pizza boxes, the leather sofa, and the controllers. The world didn't just disappear; it was overwritten.
Arthur tried to cover his eyes, feeling a sudden, agonizing pressure in his ears, as if the very air in the room was being sucked into a vacuum. William tried to stand up, his mouth open in a silent scream, but the white light became absolute, erasing sight, sound, and the sense of gravity.
For a moment, there was only a total, terrifying silence. And then, the impact.
When Arthur opened his eyes, the first sensation wasn't the softness of sofa upholstery, but a sharp, biting cold. He was lying face down on an uneven, freezing, and slippery surface that smelled foul. He gasped, and the air that entered his lungs wasn't the filtered, climate-controlled air of a modern apartment; it was raw, thin, and carried the pungent stench of horse manure, rotting mud, and damp wood smoke.
He coughed, his throat burning, and struggled to his feet. His hands sank into a mushy gray mud, mixed with melted ice. The blue light of the TV was gone, replaced by the gloomy, oppressive gray of a late-autumn sky.
— "What the hell... Arthur? Are you still in one piece?" William's voice was low but vibrated with a sharp spike of adrenaline.
William was already standing, his reflexes as an athlete and Krav Maga practitioner kicking in. He was in a low, defensive stance, scanning the narrow, filthy alleyway where they had appeared. His eyes were wide, darting from the dilapidated wooden buildings to the nearby piles of garbage.
Arthur didn't answer immediately. His attention was captivated by something only the two of them could perceive. Floating in the air, just inches from his face, was a translucent blue interface. It pulsed with a soft, ethereal light that contrasted starkly with the medieval filth around them.
[DIMENSIONAL SYSTEM INITIALIZED]
User: [Arthur]
Location: Border Town, Kingdom of Graycastle.
Status: Transmigrated.
[ATTRIBUTES]
Strength: 6
Speed: 7
Endurance: 8
Agility: 8
Intelligence: 14
Magic Power: 0 (LOCKED - Requirement: Ensure the Safety of a Witch to Unlock Flow)
Arthur felt his pulse race. His high Intelligence attribute wasn't just a number; he felt a sudden clarity, a cold and analytical speed as the pieces of the puzzle began to fall into place. He looked at William and saw him staring into the void, his jaw dropping as he read his own attributes: Strength 9 and Speed 11.
— "Border Town... Graycastle..." Arthur muttered, realization hitting him with the force of a physical blow. "Will, look at the architecture. Look at the North Slope Mine in the distance. We aren't just in another world. We are in Release That Witch."
— "You've got to be kidding me. That isekai with the weird guy who has that funny braid? And he builds those overpowered machines and weapons?"
— "Exactly," Arthur said, standing up and trying to shake the gray mud off his modern blue t-shirt and designer hoodie. He checked the watch on his wrist; the digital display still glowed, but it felt like an alien artifact, a relic from a future that had yet to happen. "And if the system says magic is unlocked by ensuring a witch survives, and we just landed in the mud on a gray autumn day..."
A muffled, bestial roar from an ecstatic crowd echoed in the distance. It came from the direction of what appeared to be the town's central square. It was a chilling sound — heavy with the vibration of thousands of voices fueled by hate, fear, and religious fanaticism.
Arthur felt a genuine chill that had nothing to do with the weather. In the timeline of the story he knew so well, there was only one event that marked the true beginning of the revolution.
— "It's probably today," Arthur stated, his voice steady and his manager's brain operating at full capacity. "Exactly today. Cheng Yan should have just woken up in Roland Wimbledon's body. But if the system is telling us to ensure a witch's salvation, and they are about to hang Anna..." Arthur broke into a cold sweat. "Maybe our existence interfered with the story..."
William didn't need a second explanation. As a man of action, inertia was his greatest enemy. He started moving toward the source of the noise, his boots splashing in the mud, but Arthur reached out and grabbed his arm.
— "Wait! We can't just storm the gallows, William. Roland is the Fourth Prince. Even if it really is Cheng Yan, he's still surrounded by the Prince's personal guard and by men like Chief Knight Carter — the best swordsman in the region. We need to observe first. If we interfere the wrong way and cause a butterfly effect that leads to Roland's death or Anna's hanging, the whole plan falls apart and we'll be stuck in the crap forever."
They left the alleyway and began making their way through the narrow, winding streets of Border Town. The reality was far grimmer than any manhua illustration. The poverty was visceral. The peasants crossing their path had sunken faces and wore rags of boiled wool, their faces smudged with soot and coal dust. They cast only a fleeting, suspicious glance at the two strangers in their "strange, vibrant silks"; the bloodlust drawing them to the square was a far more powerful distraction.
Upon reaching the edge of the town square, the brutality of the era revealed itself in full. In the center of the muddy expanse stood a rustic wooden platform that creaked under the weight of a burly man in a leather hood — the executioner. Beside him, with her hands bound and a thick hemp rope around her neck, was a young woman. Her orange-red hair was a splash of defiant color against the gray sky. Her eyes, even from a distance, didn't show a rebel's fury; they carried a profound, haunting resignation — the look of someone who had already accepted that the world was a cruel, illogical place. It was Anna.
Sitting in an ornate high-backed chair a few meters from the gallows was a young man. He looked out of place in the mud, dressed in fine silks and furs, but his face was a mask of pure shock. He rubbed his temples vigorously, looking around with the terrified eyes of a man who had just woken up in the middle of a nightmare.
— "That's him. It's Roland," William whispered, narrowing his eyes. "Or rather, it's undoubtedly the 'protagonist.' It looks like his brain is trying to comprehend the situation he's in."
Arthur observed the scene with surgical precision. He identified Barov, the administrative director, frantically whispering in the prince's ear, his face pale with worry. He saw Carter Lannis, the Chief Knight, standing like a living statue of polished steel next to the royal chair, his hand never straying from his sword's pommel.
The executioner reached for the heavy iron lever. The crowd erupted into a deafening, rhythmic chant: "Death to the witch! Expel the demon!" It was a chorus of ignorance, a wall of sound built by years of Church propaganda.
Arthur felt a strong vibration in his chest. A new screen suddenly popped up.
[QUEST TRIGGERED: THE TURNING POINT]
Objective: Ensure that Anna's execution is halted.
Reward: Unlock the Magic Power Flow.
— "Will, I hope not, but we might have to act, get ready!" Arthur said, his mind running through a dozen variables. "If Roland hesitates — if the 'system' of this world has changed and he doesn't speak up, we move in. Your speed and strength can take down that executioner before he pulls the lever. I'll focus on the guards near the stairs. We only have one shot."
William smiled, a dangerous, defiant gleam appearing in his eyes. The "protagonist syndrome" he had joked about on the couch had finally found its stage. He shifted his body weight, his muscles tensing like a coiled spring.
— "Leave it to me. If that prince doesn't open his mouth in the next five seconds, I'll dismantle that piece of crap platform."
They positioned themselves right at the front of the crowd, just a few meters from the wooden stage. In that instant, Anna raised her head. For a brief, silent second, her blue eyes met Arthur's. There was no plea for help, only a silent, melancholy curiosity — as if she were wondering who these two strangers were, dressed in the colors of a world she couldn't imagine, who weren't screaming for her blood.
The executioner's hand gripped the lever. Time seemed to stretch and thin out. Arthur saw Roland's hand rise, trembling, as the modern engineer inside the prince's skin finally found his voice.
— "STOP!" Roland's shout echoed through the square, sharp as a whip's crack, slicing through the roar of the crowd like a knife.
Arthur let out a long, breathless sigh he hadn't even realized he was holding. The original plan was holding up — for now. But, when the Prince ordered the girl to be freed and the crowd began to murmur in confused anger, Arthur felt the weight of history shift. He felt Carter Lannis's cold, calculating gaze sweep the crowd and linger on the two of them for a fraction of a second longer than it should have.
— "Phew, that trash actually did it," William whispered, finally letting his shoulders drop from their combat stance.
— "Yeah, but the real work starts now," Arthur replied, watching Cheng Yan stand up with a newly acquired, wavering authority. "The peasants are in disbelief over the prince's decision, the Church is watching, and we have zero power. We need to make sure this doesn't turn into a riot, and more importantly... we need to get inside that castle."
The industrial revolution of Border Town had just begun, and for Arthur and William, waking up in the mud was only the prelude to a war they intended to win with the science of the future and the strength of the present.