Dante sat back in the rickety chair, his gaze fixed on the glowing interface floating before him. The room was still dimly lit by the dying rays of sunlight streaming through the window. The 10 herbs he had gathered during his exploration were neatly displayed on the system screen. Each herb had a small icon next to it, indicating that they could be exchanged for something of value. He stared at the options presented to him: currency or knowledge.
The currency tab caught his eye first. It was labeled with the name of the world's monetary unit, Astrals, a shimmering, crystalline symbol next to the number. The exchange rate seemed favorable. For the 10 herbs he had collected, he could receive a modest sum—enough to begin building a foundation, but not enough to be reckless. However, the second option intrigued him more: Information About the World.
A faint smile crept across Dante's face. Currency was important, but knowledge was power. He was in an unfamiliar world, and understanding its workings was paramount to his long-term survival and success. Without hesitation, he tapped the second option. The screen flashed momentarily before displaying a brief confirmation:
"You have chosen: Knowledge of the World. Stand by for data transfer."
The system's holographic glow intensified briefly, then dimmed, signaling that the transfer had begun. Dante felt a slight pressure in his temples as the information began flowing into his mind—not in words or images, but in pure data. His brain absorbed it instantly, as if the knowledge had always been there, waiting to be unlocked.
He blinked, his vision momentarily blurry, then stood and paced around the small room, processing the newfound information. As if a veil had been lifted, he now understood the basics of the world he found himself in. It wasn't Earth—far from it. This realm, called Novarath, was a convergence of several worlds, each with its own territories, powers, and systems of governance.
Novarath was divided into five major continents, each ruled by a different power structure. These were not simple nations but entire realms with their own histories, economies, and cultures.
1. Vashrathia:
A land of vast deserts and sprawling cities, ruled by merchant lords and trade guilds. Wealth and influence were the key to power here, and those who controlled the trade routes were the de facto rulers. The merchant princes were shrewd, and their alliances shifted as often as the desert sands. Assassination and subterfuge were common tools in their political landscape, making it a dangerous place for anyone looking to rise quickly without caution.
2. Eldraan:
A densely forested region dominated by ancient, mystical races. Elves, dryads, and druids held sway here, and magic was woven into every aspect of life. The Eldraan Council, a powerful governing body of elder sorcerers, dictated the flow of magical resources, making it the most enigmatic and dangerous of the realms for those unfamiliar with the arcane arts. Magic was not just a tool—it was the foundation of power, and only those with a mastery of it could thrive.
3. Karthoria:
A militaristic empire spanning vast mountain ranges and plains. Ruled by an iron-fisted emperor, Karthoria valued strength above all else. Soldiers were the highest class, and martial prowess was the key to social mobility. The Karthorian army was feared across Novarath, and the emperor's generals were legendary for their cunning and ruthlessness. War was a way of life here, and power was gained through conquest and bloodshed.
4. Mirros:
An archipelago of islands known for its seafaring culture and naval power. Pirates and mercenaries thrived here, ruling the seas with a mixture of charm and brutality. The islands were a haven for those who operated outside the law, and alliances were made and broken with alarming speed. The Sea Lords held the true power, and those who could command the waves held the fate of the islands in their hands.
5. Umberfall:
A shadowy, dark land of endless night, where the underworld thrived. Crime syndicates, black markets, and thieves' guilds controlled everything from the streets to the government. This was a world where Dante's skills would be put to the ultimate test—a place where ruthlessness and cunning were the only ways to survive. The strongest and most devious rose to power here, and alliances were fragile, built on mutual benefit and the threat of betrayal.
Dante absorbed all of this in an instant. Each continent had its own hierarchy, its own rules of engagement. But even within these realms, there were countless other factions vying for control. Mercenaries, mages, thieves, assassins—each realm offered opportunities for those daring enough to seize them.
But Novarath wasn't just a collection of realms. Beneath the surface, a delicate balance of power existed. There were whispers of a World Council, a shadowy organization that pulled the strings behind the scenes, ensuring that no single faction became too dominant. They operated in the background, manipulating events and ensuring that the world remained in a state of controlled chaos.
Dante's thoughts raced as the vastness of the world became clear. He was but a single piece in a massive game of power, but he had been given a unique advantage: the Mafia System. His old life had prepared him for this. In a world like Novarath, where power was everything, he knew he could carve out a place for himself—and perhaps even dominate it all.
The system interface blinked out of existence, and Dante felt the last vestiges of the knowledge settle into his mind. His head throbbed slightly as if processing the immense influx of information. He exhaled slowly, standing still in the dim room. It was overwhelming, but also exhilarating.
As the night deepened, Dante found a tattered old bed in the corner of the room. It wasn't much, but it would suffice for now. He lay down, the weight of the day's revelations pressing on him. He closed his eyes, and as sleep began to take him, the knowledge he had gained continued to swirl in his mind.
Suddenly, he felt a pulse—a familiar presence. It was the voice of the Mafia God, clear and commanding, echoing in his thoughts as he drifted off.
"You cared for others like family in your past life, Dante, but that is no longer the way. This world will demand more of you. It will demand ruthlessness, cunning, and strength. Do not allow anyone to get too close. Trust no one. I am giving you this chance to rule once more, but only if you follow my path. You will become the king of this underworld, as you were on Earth. Do not falter. I have granted you the Mafia System. Use it wisely."
The message was direct and cold. Dante felt the weight of those words deep in his chest. He would have to abandon old loyalties and attachments if he was to survive and thrive in this new world. He had to be ruthless—ruthless in a way he never had been before.
As he succumbed to sleep, all the information he had gained about the world of Novarath seemed to cement itself into his brain. It wasn't just that he remembered it; it was as though he had lived through it. The histories, the cultures, the hierarchies—everything was now part of him. He could see the political landscapes in his mind's eye, the power players shifting like pieces on a chessboard. It was all so clear.
Dante slept soundly, his mind now brimming with the knowledge that would serve him in the days to come. He had the advantage—an understanding of the world few others possessed, and a system that would help him navigate it. When morning came, he would be ready to begin.