The camp fire had burned down to embers, but Rylen didn't feel the cold. The memories of poisoned wine still coated his tongue, a memory of a future yet to happen, yet it felt more real than the ground beneath him. The System's interface glowed in his mind's eye.
He focused, and a new sub-menu unfolded.
[Currency Management]
[Current Physical Holding: 150 Gold Crowns]
[System Balance: 0 Gold Crowns]
[Transfer Funds to System? (Note: Transfer is permanent. Funds cannot be retrieved.)]
A one-way vault, he realized.it made thing more convenient for him,they was no need to carry a bunch of gold just for simulation.it was better as the gold would be in the system.With a mental command, he transferred 30 Gold Crowns. A tangible lightness touched his money pouch. The interface updated.
[System Balance: 30 Gold Crowns]
[Physical Holding: 120 Gold Crowns]
. This was not a resource to be spent lightly. Each coin was a piece of his future, traded for a glimpse of a unlimited possibility.
It was his key for him to reach the top but for now he has to pass the death flag.
First, understand the full scope of the threat. Since he has enough gold he would try different ways. Just see where the current path leads.
He formed the intent clearly in his mind, focusing on his immediate plan: to ride into Frosthold at dawn and accept the role presented to him.
[Paid Simulation Activated. Cost: 1 Gold Crown. System Balance: 29.]
[Simulation Commencing…]
[You arrive in Frosthold. Mayor Krell welcomes you with public ceremony and false warmth.
Week 2:You attempt to learn about the town's workings. You are given false ledgers and polite obstruction.
Week 5:The welcoming feast.Even though you knew you would be poisoned you weren't aware and you were never the less poisoned.
Week 6:A lingering fatigue begins. You finally understand that you were poisoned.
Week 8:The fatigue deepens into weakness. Coldsweats at night.
Week 10:You take to your bed. Healer Pyllor attends you, his tonics worsening the pain.
Week 12:You die in the depth of night, your body wasted. Cause('Grim Reaper's Gift'). Mayor Krell reports the tragic death of the young Lord-Mayor to Lastwall and continues his operations.]**
[SIMULATION END. Select Reward.]
Two weeks longer than the free simulation. The poison was slower, perhaps because he was less suspicious initially.
He chose Life Experience.
The slow, insidious decay washed over him—the growing confusion, the helpless anger, the cold terror of feeling his own body betray him. It was never comforting to experience such helplessness, more horrifying. He gripped his knees until his knuckles turned white, riding out the feeling of death.
But it was a necessary horror.
He needed a new path. Simulate gathering evidence secretly upon arrival. Look for the poison, the ledgers, the scout communications.
Another gold vanished.
[You arrive and play the part of the naive noble. You secretly investigate at night.
Week 3:You find a hidden ledger in Krell's desk detailing Northgard bribes.
Week 4:Your secret activities are noticed. Guard Captain Borin confronts you in a deserted alley. You are strangled. Your body is disposed of in the collapsed mine shaft.]**
[SIMULATION END.]
A shorter, sharper end. He took the Life Experience, the memory of iron-like fingers on his throat a fresh brand of fear. So, Borin is the enforcer.
Simulate fleeing immediately. Take the guards and run south, abandoning the post.
[You order Torvin and Hask to turn south at dawn, abandoning your post. They refuse, citing their orders from Storm House. You attempt to flee alone on foot.
Day 2:You are lost in the woods. Northgard scouts, alerted by Krell, hunt you as a deserter. You are caught and executed with a crossbow bolt to the back.]
[SIMULATION END.]
He absorbed the memory of running, the panic, the sudden impact, and the cold forest floor.
System Balance: 27.
He was building a map of possibilities. Every passive or direct approach led to a grave. The solution had to be systemic not just an impulse action, something that used the rules against his enemies.
He thought of the modern world's most potent weapons: information and legal authority. Simulate invoking formal authority from the moment I arrive. Bypass Krell. Demand an audit of all town records in the name of the King of Lastwall.
[Free Simulation Activated.]
The summary unfolded differently.
[You arrive and immediately invoke your formal authority, demanding a full administrative and fiscal audit. Mayor Krell is visibly stunned and panicked.
Month 1:A tense stalemate ensues. You are alive but isolated. Krell attempts bribery, then sabotage of records.
Month 2:Your stubborn adherence to procedure frustrates his Northgard contacts. They pressure him to resolve the problem.
Month 3:Krell, growing desperate, orchestrates an 'accident' during a mine inspection. A support beam you are near is tampered with. You are crippled by falling rock, you live for nine months till you eventually die.]
[SIMULATION ENDS.]
[Select Reward.]
LIFE EXPERIENCE
ITEM
POWER LEVELS
He had no choice but to select life experience again,he didn't live long enough to increase his power level or learn a skill or get hold of a valuable item.
Even though he would experience those moments of despair he had no choice if he wanted to survive.
Dawn arrived, bleak and colourless. The final leg of the journey passed in a haze. Frosthold appeared, a smear of despair against the grey mountains. It was exactly as his dying memories had shown him.
As they rode into the muddy main street, Mayor Krell emerged from the hall, his face arranged into that familiar, greasy smile. "Lord-Mayor Rylen! The journey must have been terrible! Come, warm yourself! A modest meal is prepared!"
The script. The first step to the grave. Rylen dismounted, his mind still a little disturbed due to the extra memories,but never the less he had to focus.
"Mayor Krell," he said, his voice not that of a weary boy, but flat and formal,he has already shade the mentality of a child and a person in a civilized and well maintained world.
He pulled the letter from his coat. "Before all else, protocol. My letter of appointment must be entered into the town ledger by the clerk. Now."
He extended the scroll past the startled mayor to the anxious, ink-stained man hovering in the doorway. Krell's smile froze.
Rylen turned, addressing the handful of townsfolk who had gathered to stare. "Furthermore," his voice carried, sharp in the cold air, "by the authority of Storm House and in direct service to the Crown of Lastwall, I am initiating a complete audit of all municipal ledgers, tax rolls, and mine operation reports for the past five years. Fiscal integrity is not a request; it is my first duty."
The silence was absolute. The clerk looked faint. Guard Captain Borin, a hulking shadow beside Krell, stiffened, his hand drifting to his sword belt.
On Mayor Krell's face, the false warmth shattered. Beneath it was raw, undiluted panic—the look of a man who saw the carefully laid track of his future twisting into a dead end.
Rylen held his gaze, the memories of a dozen deaths—by poison, by knife, by bolt, by rock—solidifying his resolve into something colder and harder than steel.
He had no knightly talent. But he had the simulation system.