The sun blazed mercilessly above, baking the cobblestone streets of Utopia, the capital city of the Avalah Empire. In the citizens' district, people shuffled about, fanning themselves and cursing the heat as they went about their day.
Summer was clinging on for dear life, but fall would arrive soon enough, bringing its cooler breezes and inevitable rains. For those within the sturdy walls of this district, life wasn't easy, but it was predictable—a kind of comfort in its own way.
The same couldn't be said for the eastern slums, separated by the murky waters of a river that might as well have been a moat, keeping the "undesirables" out of sight and out of mind. Here, life was a twisted lottery where survival wasn't a guarantee. Luck, desperation, and a willingness to sink to the lowest depths were the only currencies that mattered.
The slums were ruled by the cruel and cunning. The weak had two choices: serve or perish. Crime wasn't a danger here—it was the economy. And among the many grim professions that kept the slums running, was that of the humble prostitute—women who sold their bodies to survive.
Which, incidentally, is how I found myself here, sweeping the front steps of the Midnight Inn, a brothel tucked away in the heart of this hellhole.
"Hah..."
I sighed, leaning against the broom like some tragic hero in a play.
Not too long ago, I'd woken up in this world, inhabiting the body of a teenage servant boy working at this brothel. Unlike many in the slums, I had a roof over my head and enough to eat. The food wasn't great—thin gruel, stale bread, and scraps that would've made my old self cringe—but it was better than nothing.
I wasn't scrawny or sickly, but this body wasn't in peak condition either. The lack of nutrition in my meals had left me lean and underdeveloped. I had enough strength to get through the daily chores, but imagining anything beyond that was laughable.
At night, I'd curl up on a thin blanket in the corner of the storeroom, surrounded by the scent of old wood and musty linens. It wasn't comfortable, but at least it was safe. Safer than sleeping in the streets, where thievery, assault, or worse awaited.
Even so, it was a far cry from the life I once had.
A few minutes ago, I was Kayle Miguel Liverton, a successful businessman with a decent life, loving family, and great friends. Now, I was just Kayle, a teenage servant boy found abandoned in this nightmare of a city.
Two lives, two sets of memories, tangled together in my head like a bad dream that refused to end.
Am I the man who once lived in a world of skyscrapers, smartphones, and overpriced coffee? Or am I this scrawny kid, sweeping the stoop of a brothel, praying I'll get a scrap of bread for dinner?
...I guess I'm both. And neither.
Whatever I was, I knew exactly where I'd landed.
This was the world of War of Demons and Heroes, a fantasy realm brimming with magic, monsters, and the ever-present war between humanity and the demon clans.
On the surface, it sounded thrilling—an adventure waiting to happen. Swords clashing, magic crackling, heroes rising to challenge the darkness. The kind of world any fantasy fan would dream of exploring.
But the reality?
It was hell.
The human nations had been locked in a brutal war with the demons for decades, their resources drained, their lands ravaged. Poverty, disease, and starvation were rampant. For every hero who rose to fame, thousands of ordinary people lived and died in obscurity, crushed under the weight of a world gone mad.
And now, I was one of them.
The game's story followed Rio, the protagonist—a wide-eyed boy from a rural village in the Haruna Kingdom. With dreams of ending the war, Rio's frail body and lack of training made him an unlikely hero... until a talent sweep conducted by Sylvanna's Academy revealed his rare dual affinity for Light and Dark magic.
From there, players guided Rio through his journey, training at the Academy, forging more than friendly bonds with the girls around him, and ultimately leading humanity's last stand against the demon clans. The choices made along the way determined his fate—and the fate of the world.
Sylvanna's Academy was actually here in Utopia, located on the opposite side of the city. Half a day's walk.
For the Academy, talent was everything. Even a basic magical affinity could secure a place during these times of war, granting access to proper training, resources, and a shot at escaping the misery that defined most lives in this world.
Unfortunately for me, this body wasn't the best. A weak constitution born from years of poor dietary choices had left me weaker than my peers and checking your magic affinity requires you to go through a test that usually cost around 1000 crowns, an insanely high price for the average slum resident.
Right now I'm no more than a teenage boy with a broom and a few years' worth of muscle memory from sweeping floors and carrying buckets.
But there was still hope.
The talent sweep wouldn't happen for another two years. That was my window—a chance to strengthen this body, awaken a magical attribute, and carve out a path to the Academy.
The Academy segregated students by their affinity score. Those with high affinity would only have to prove their affinity score to pass the test, while those with lower scores would have to pass an additional fitness test to join.
I wasn't aware of my affinity score, so I would have to strengthen my physique if I wished to stand a chance.
If I could do that, I'd have a shot at entering the Academy and possibly meeting up with the main cast of the game.
For now, though, all I could do was keep sweeping, keep working, and keep pushing forward.
Because in a world like this, you don't wait for a miracle. You make one.
"Kayle! Get your ass over here!"
The shout from the boss's office cut through the air, sharp and impatient.
'I might need a miracle to deal with this though...'
With a sigh, I set the broom against the wall and made my way up the stairs.
The wooden steps creaked underfoot, their age and wear all too evident. When I reached the second floor, the air felt heavier. The dimly lit hallway stretched to either side, its warped floorboards and protruding nails making each step a hazard. At the end of the left hall stood a door, guarded by two familiar figures.
Dale and Bale, David's two guards.
Dale's serpent tattoo curled around his neck like a constant warning, while Bale loomed silently, his size alone enough to make anyone think twice.
I approached cautiously, keeping my voice steady as I bowed. "The boss called for me?"
"Hmm, he seems to be in a bad mood today." Somewhat satisfied with my respectful attitude, Dale gave me a warning, a cryptic smirk on his face.
Understanding the situation, I bowed slightly before Bale, who wordlessly pushed the door open for me.
The familiar sting of stale tobacco hit my nose as I stepped inside.
David's office stood in stark contrast to the rest of the inn. Everything here was meticulously arranged, from the rows of files on the shelves to the neat stacks of coins on the desk.
He sat behind the desk, his thin frame dwarfed by the high-backed chair. His dark eyes locked onto me the moment I entered, sharp and unrelenting.
"Kayle," he said, his voice cold, fingers steepled as he regarded me like a wolf to a rabbit. "Do you know why you're here?"
I met his gaze, replying calmly. "No, boss."
His lips twitched, and for a moment, I thought he might smile. But no. That wasn't David. Instead, he leaned back, gesturing sharply toward the shelves on his left. "Care to explain why my ledgers are out of order?"
I blinked, my expression neutral. I hadn't touched those ledgers.
"I haven't been near the shelves, boss," I replied evenly.
Clank!
An ashtray sailed through the air, smashing into the wall just inches from my head.
"Don't lie to me!" David's voice rose, his finger jabbing toward the now-dented wall. "Every time I look at you, you're fumbling around like an idiot. Do you think I wouldn't notice your grubby little hands messing up my records?"
I remained silent, my face carefully blank as the words washed over me.
"Answer me, you useless brat!"
"I didn't touch the ledgers," I said quietly, keeping my tone measured.
His eyes narrowed, and for a moment, I thought he might throw something else.
"Then who did? Huh? Besides me and you, who else enters this fucking room?"
I didn't respond. What was the point? He wasn't looking for answers—just a target for his anger.
Shatter!
This time, his mug hit the wall, splintering into pieces.
"You're lucky I don't throw you out into the streets," David growled. "But I'm not running a charity. Dale!"
The door opened again, and Dale sauntered in, his grin widening as he caught sight of me.
"Yeah, boss?"
"Take him out. Five lashes on his palms with the cane. And tell the chef to cut his portions for the week. The pain and hunger should remind him to keep his hands off what isn't his."
Dale chuckled, already reaching for the cane that hung by the door. "You heard him, kid. Let's not keep the boss waiting."
I clenched my fists at my sides, nails digging into my palms as I turned to follow Dale out. I didn't bother looking back.
'I guess this is the life I've been dropped into now. Just a coinvent toy for those in power to push around.'
A sigh threatened to escape my mouth as I walked, but I swallowed it back down in fear of David or Dale catching it. Who knows what else they might do if they did.
At that point, the fog that had lingered in my mind since my reincarnation had finally lifted. Everything had felt slightly surreal since I regained the memories of my past, but now, the cold and harsh reality had settled in, and with it came a sharp clarity.
As the door shut behind me, I allowed myself a single glance back at David. My expression was calm, but inside, something had clicked.
'This won't last forever.'