Chapter 1: A Declaration of War – 1

‘Ah, My Eyes!’

When the bomb fell on the isolated unit, my vision went dark.

A few seconds later, an intensely bright light directly hit my eyes, almost blinding me again.

It wasn’t exactly like the lights I was familiar with, but it was enough for me to think I was being operated on in some field hospital.

The first thing I searched for when I woke up was my comrades.

If I had survived that bombing, there was no reason others couldn’t have survived as well.

“Ugh… Ah…”

Damn it. My voice wouldn’t come out.

Had I inhaled some kind of chemical gas?

At least I could still feel my arms and legs. It seemed that my limbs were intact.

However, they wouldn’t move the way I wanted them to.

My nerves seemed fine, but something was wrong with either my bones or tendons.

I couldn’t even support my own neck.

Things were looking pretty grim.

It seemed like I would be bedridden for the rest of my life. As I resigned myself to this fate and looked around, I noticed a gigantic hand covering me.

A woman I had never seen before was holding my body in her palm.

That’s when I realized it.

Ah, I’ve been reincarnated.

Even though I never believed in reincarnation, being a non-religious person, I wasn’t one to deny the reality unfolding before my eyes.

My first emotion upon realizing I had been reincarnated wasn’t confusion—it was joy.

Despite my miserable previous life, the fact that I had been given a second chance at life filled me with immense gratitude.

But that feeling didn’t last long.

In the corner of the room where I had been born, gemstones were floating and humming, and winged children were curiously looking at me.

Anyone could tell that this was a medieval fantasy world.

To confirm this, the woman with animal ears who had received me was dressed in a maid’s outfit that looked straight out of the Middle Ages.

It was obvious, even without seeing it, that this barbaric fantasy world wouldn’t have much of a concept of visual arts.

Medieval times!

Freaking No Entertainment medieval times!

The barbaric medieval era where the final form of entertainment is watching a battle royale by throwing people into a coliseum!

I cried with despair in my first wail announcing my birth.

While my emotions were plummeting from heaven to the depths of despair, the people in the room cheered in contrast.

Later, I found out they had their reasons.

If a newborn baby neither cried nor opened its eyes, wouldn’t people think something was wrong with the baby?

Even when the midwife handed me to my mother with trembling hands, I didn’t react at all and just rolled my eyes.

People’s reactions were dramatic.

My mother cried, forgetting the labor pains, while the midwife covered her mouth with her hands, and my father and the housekeeper prayed to the gods.

Despite her exhausted state from the labor, my mother couldn’t give up on me and held me close, repeatedly calling my name.

“Allen. Allen… dear… please…”

Not understanding what my mother was saying immediately after birth, I just stared blankly until I recognized the medieval times and then cried at just the right moment.

An hour after being held in my mother’s arms, when I finally cried, people cheered, saying a miracle had occurred.

My mother and father knelt on the spot and prayed to the goddess of life, while the attendants praised it as a miracle of motherhood.

Thus, Allen Price, the miracle child, was born.

44 years.

The total time I have lived, combining my previous 40 years and this life’s 4 years.

From what I have learned over the past 4 years, this world is not a barbaric medieval one.

To be precise, while the cultural style and materials are stuck in the medieval period, the technological level is no different from the modern world.

Isn’t it said that everything eventually returns to its origin?

Just as highly advanced science is no different from magic, when magic develops to its extreme, it becomes indistinguishable from science.

This world’s cultural style may be medieval, but the living standards are slightly behind modern times.

In fact, in some aspects, it even surpasses the modern world.

I discovered this during my second year of reincarnation when I first looked out the window.

While the gardener outside was pruning branches, he examined the cut branches carefully, apparently dissatisfied.

Then, using magic, he regrew the branches and repeatedly trimmed the tree.

Up to this point, it was just ordinary medieval fantasy.

The problem came next.

I took a crystal, about the size of a smartphone, out of my pocket, contacted someone, and then a truck from outside the mansion collected the remaining branches.

Seeing this, I was convinced that at least this era was not medieval.

(Additionally, I learned that everyone carried a fireball in their chest, which added to my sense of etiquette.)

Realizing this, I began to reopen the dream I had closed immediately after birth.

And finally, in my fourth year of reincarnation,

My mother took me to the theater for the first time to show me the “entertainment” of this world.

For someone from a modern society like me, the theater might lack a bit of stimulation, but since it’s a fantasy world, it should provide me with a fresh shock.

With my heart pounding, I sat down in the audience.

Sparkle!

At the same time, the lights on stage turned on.

“Oh. They use magicians for the lighting team.”

Since even the gardener uses magic in this world, it wasn’t too surprising.

The unusual thing was that changing the stage background and props was also the job of the magician.

“Is the background created with illusion magic? The props seem to be made in real-time.”

Still, with special effects, it was much more enjoyable than the plays of my previous life.

Though it was still far from movies.

Nevertheless, watching this play had its benefits.

One was that the class system seemed less strict than I thought.

The fact that there was no separate seating for nobles and commoners in our party or that my mother didn’t show any discomfort even when the actors openly criticized the nobility suggested this.

Another was that the thematic consciousness of this era was uniformly tedious.

While the expression and appeal were decent, the themes always seemed to be either romance or religion, making it dull.

It wasn’t poorly made, but it felt like there was a lack of dopamine in my brain.

But it was okay.

If it’s not there, I can create it myself, right?

With dreams of becoming an actor carefully stored in my heart, I munched on the popcorn I had brought from home.

“Is it fun?”

A chubby little boy sat next to me and snatched some popcorn to eat.

Leon Parma.

My foster brother and the prince of the Parma Empire.

He was the child my mother nursed, who was a fellow academy classmate of the First Empress.

In a world where magic replaces science, it seemed odd that an empress would need to nurse a child instead of using formula. However, eavesdropping on conversations between my mother and the empress revealed that there was a magical reason behind it.

In this world, children who drink breast milk rich in magical power during their nursing period accumulate magical power faster compared to those who don’t, giving them a significant advantage from the start.

In other words, breast milk is almost like a potion.

Thus, unless a family is extremely large and lacks sufficient milk, nursing is strongly encouraged, and it’s preferable to have a wet nurse from a magical or knightly background.

In this sense, it was natural that my mother, a former Magic Tower Master and close friend of the First Empress, was chosen as the prince’s wet nurse.

(By the way, while the empress has a lot of magical power, she has a small milk supply.)

For me, Leon was like a sibling.

Though I have an older brother, who spends all his time in the mansion’s library, this child, sucking on my mother’s breast beside me, felt more like family.

At first, I intended to act as the older brother even though we were the same age and I was a reincarnate. But Leon was so mature that I found myself relying on him more.

Getting snacks or toys in Leon’s name…

This outing was also thanks to Leon.

For months, I had built up the expectation that Leon often complained of boredom when meeting the empress. So, when his third birthday approached and I suggested going to see a play, the theater was immediately booked.

It was a universal truth that gifts from aunts and uncles were better than those from mothers, no matter how the world changed.

(I got scolded by my mother later.)

I watched the stage while pinching Leon’s cheeks, puffed up with popcorn.

A standard story, with standard direction.

It was far from modern movies but still an enjoyable play.

Despite the cliché story of a holy knight falling into corruption after misusing a magical sword, the acting was quite impressive and made it easy to get absorbed.

And then, the highlight of the play unfolded.

Bang!

The fallen holy knight, now to be called a heretic, swung his sword, causing the stage, which had been set against a castle backdrop, to collapse.

The battlefield then shifted to a plaza prepared behind the stage.

Leon, seeing this for the first time, seemed surprised, but the guards, including my mother, were enjoying the performance, indicating it was part of the show, not an accident.

Destroying the stage once during each play was a luxurious touch made possible by the fantasy setting of this world.

The audience seats where we were sitting gradually rose, transforming into a structure overlooking the plaza, much like a coliseum.

“The scale of the production is exceptional.”

Bonus points for the magical effects: 3 points. This brings the total to 9 out of 10.

As I mentally adjusted the rating of the play, the heretic and his former comrade clashed swords.

“The action is—”

Clang!

Incredibly realistic.

The two swords clashed with a deadly force, sparking flames.

Not stopping there, they unleashed deadly sword strikes and magic spells.

The performance included wire-free aerial stunts, CG-free magic, and freely wielded sword strikes.

At that moment, I couldn’t help but be impressed.

In a world where magic exists, CG is a reality.

There was no need for wire stunts to portray flying magic; one could just fly in this world.

It’s a world where any genre of film could be easily realized.

Thinking this way, the stage took on a new perspective.

I adjusted my rating of the play to 9.5 and focused on the performance.

[Ludwig! Why are you doing this! You are not this kind of person!]

[Gael, my comrade. I have finally awakened. I have found the true god I must serve!]

Ludwig, as a former holy knight, wore white armor, but it was now covered in blood, turning closer to a reddish-brown than silver.

The man fighting him, Gael, was a typical knight clad in full plate armor.

The two clashed fiercely.

Initially, Gael had the upper hand, but as Ludwig entered the second phase, the momentum shifted.

Ludwig’s armor turned black, and demon-like wings unfurled from his back.

Gael, despite his skillful swordsmanship and physical enhancements, struggled to withstand Ludwig’s fierce onslaught, now empowered by demonic strength.

Clang!

As Gael narrowly avoided Ludwig’s sword, he eventually took a hit to his helmet.

Thanks to the helmet, he avoided instant death, but it cracked under the attack, and blood started seeping from Gael’s forehead.

The moment his helmet fell to the ground, both Leon and I widened our eyes in shock and gasped.

Inside that helmet was the face of my father.

“What’s going on? Was our father an actor?”

No wonder my mother had always looked displeased whenever the maidservants squealed at the television; there was a reason behind it.

Even while sustaining injuries, the actor playing Gael continued to swing his sword at his opponent without hesitation.

Thunk!

During the fight, my father’s arm was severed in mid-air.

Not to be outdone, my father also took Ludwig’s eye.

It seemed unnecessary to fight so intensely in a play, not even as a gladiator in a coliseum, which made me frown.

I was about to cover Leon’s eyes, thinking it might not be good for his emotional education, when Ludwig healed his own eye, recovering from the wound.

[Is it possible for someone who has forsaken the gods to still use divine power?]

[Isn’t this proof that I have found the true god!]

It seemed that the actor playing Ludwig was indeed a former holy knight in real life.

Seeing this, I understood why my father was performing such intense scenes even with his arm cut off.

In a world where healing spells exist, losing an arm is something that can be fixed after the performance by bringing in a high-ranking cleric.

Still, it wasn’t right to just accept the loss of an arm as normal.

My father skillfully applied first aid to his arm.

My mother watched anxiously, but given that she didn’t create a scene, it was clear she had seen such things before, even before my birth.

“I’ll have to hug him when he comes back.”

The best a three-year-old could do to show filial piety was to give hugs and kisses.

Greater devotion would come from studying hard and becoming a good actor as I grew up.

Worried that Leon might cry upon seeing my father’s arm being severed, I looked at his face.

Contrary to my expectations, he watched the stage with sparkling eyes.

In fact, when my father wielded the sword with one arm, Leon thought it looked cool, hiding one arm behind his back and swinging the other.

Leon and I cheered as my father’s second phase pushed Ludwig back.

And then—

Rustle.

My father’s head fell off.

“Wha—what?!”

“What the hell?!”

I quickly covered Leon’s eyes.

In an instant, I became a single-parent family.

Shocked, I stared blankly at the stage.

The play continued as if nothing had happened.

My father’s corpse was left on stage while the performance went on.

I wanted to shout about how they treated human life, but I realized none of the audience seemed to find it problematic, which gave me a chill.

Even more disconcerting was my mother’s calm demeanor, as if she had just watched a good play.

I couldn’t remember how the story progressed after that.

My gaze was fixed on my father’s corpse.

“Why, Allen? Didn’t you enjoy the play?”

“Father…”

“Father what?”

“Father is…”

I buried my face in my mother’s ample chest and sobbed.

She held me warmly and patted my back, waiting for me to calm down.

Once I was somewhat settled, my mother looked at me with a smile.

The problem was, her lips were twitching as if she was holding back laughter.

Eventually, she couldn’t contain her laughter and burst into a fit of giggles, even clapping.

“Hahaha! Our son. He’s just too cute!”

My mother laughed so hard that tears formed at the corners of her eyes, then contacted someone.

“Yes, William. Where are you right now? Yes… Yes. Can you just show your face to the audience? Oh, no. It’s for Allen. Yes~.”

Confused by my mother’s behavior, I suddenly saw my father appear behind me.

“Huh?”

The stage still had my father’s lifeless body.

But my father was standing right behind me.

I repeated “Huh? Huh?” in disbelief.

“What is this? A double?”

After desperately racking my brain with the mind of a 43-year-old man, I came to one conclusion.

“It’s a doppelgänger!!!”

My mother laughed so hard she was nearly in tears.