Back in my old world, there was a band I loved called Volbeat. They were Danish, but sang mostly in English, except one phrase that popped up a lot—‘for helvede’. Loosely translated, it means ‘for fuck’s sake’.

Despite having since learned that expletive in four additional languages, none were enough to express my current displeasure.

Having escaped the clutches of Team Forceful Coronation, I wandered through the streets of Larm. Rough cobbles comprised the roads, which were wide and dirty and bumpy, and people ambled around, barely casting me a glance.

This made me pause, since I was wearing a twenty-first century shirt and tie, made of authentic synthetic fabric, and they were all walking around in cotton, with the occasional silk garment in dire need of repair. Their faces appeared gaunt and lifeless, their eyes glazed over. To the sides, boards covered windows. Despite the height of the sun, pedestrians were in short supply.

This was a capital city, but there was no chatter or caterwauling of merchants, no scent of exotic street food.

Only the stink of despair.

As I passed a wooden structure, I stopped. It was wide, with two stories and shuttered windows with no glass. It also held the distinction of being the only building in the vicinity to show any kind of life. There was a sign reading ‘The Lion’s Den’, and realisation struck me.

A haunting melody wafted out the open door, drawing me inside. I stepped into a long, low room with a bar on the back wall and circular tables dotting the floor. Few were occupied. Patrons nursed drinks, a couple humming along to the music, which emanated from a willowy, brown-haired woman plucking a lute in the corner. A heavy air hung over them all.

Behind the bar, a blonde woman polished mugs with a rag. She smiled as I approached. Somewhere between me and Shia in height, she had a thick build and motherly aura.

“Hi there,” she said. “What can I get for ya?”

“Uh…” I considered asking for ale, or mead, as was tried and true, before realising I hadn’t had the good sense to at least grab some gold before I ran off. Still, this was a brave new world, and I knew nothing.

I had to start somewhere.

“How much for a cider?” I asked.

“Fifteen bits,” she said.

Furrowing my brow, I had yet another revelation—knowing the price meant nothing without a point of reference. What even was a bit?

I made a show of checking my pockets, then put on what I hoped was a pained expression and said, “Just water, please.”

With a sigh, she reached under the counter, producing a jug full of sweet-smelling amber liquid. She poured a mug, then handed it to me, winking.

“It’s hard times for everyone,” she said, smiling. “Stay strong, friend.”

“Thank you.” I meant it, but I didn’t go any further. The mood inside was infectious, and I already felt reflective. Why would a Royal System choose someone who’d never held any authority or responsibility?

Yet another mystery to pile atop the metric fuck-tonne I already had. Honestly, I was getting a little giddy. If I put aside the whole ‘King’ thing for a moment, hadn’t I escaped my mundane existence and transmigrated to another world? Sure, the System was a joke, but the basic concept was here. All I needed was a party, a sword, and some magic powers, and I’d be set.

Fuck Larheim.

I sat as far away from the other customers as possible, hoping to unravel at least one mystery. System?

[User.]

Do I have, like, a stat sheet or anything?

[One moment, please.]

What did this thing run on, Windows 98? Oh, whatever. I sipped my drink—it was dry and bittersweet, with the crispness of fresh apples. It warmed me.

[Would User like to view their status?]

Had my question disappeared into the ether? Yes, I wanted to view my status, otherwise I wouldn’t have asked!

[Loading—please wait.]

I shit you not, that little spinning thing popped up in my mind’s eye. Clenching my fist, I drained my mug, finding my foot tapping as the musician switched to a song full of upbeat energy. No-one else reacted. Gloom hung over those present, suffocating me.

The poverty. The desperation. These people needed someone to save them, and I was happy to be the hero. Or Hero. As long as I didn’t have to be King.

A jarring sensation interrupted my thoughts. Rather than the table appearing before my eyes, it forced itself into my head. My skull felt ready to burst.

First things first, why was there so much? Secondly, none of these values were related to me at all! Everything was to do with the freaking kingdom. The System was pushing, but I refused to budge.

I glanced around again, noting the negative Morale yield.

My refusal melted.

My mental image of the perfect isekai life—exploring, defeating a great Demon Lord, then retiring to the sea, surrounded by adoring followers—shattered. I sighed. Sure, I could run off and force my way to heroism through wits alone, without the System. But with the country in the state it was, that wouldn’t be easy.

I’d probably run into bandits or monsters as soon as I left the city. I got the distinctive feeling that in this world, defying the System wouldn’t make me a Defier—it’d just make me dead.

Beyond that, it was just the right thing to do. How could I run away and leave these people to their misery without even trying? I’d dreamed of being a different kind of hero, sure, but how could I take that title if I left now?

Who’d want the weight of a country on their shoulders?

With another sigh, I considered my stat block, trying not to cry at some of the numbers.

AP struck me as this System’s version of HP. When it hit zero, Hana would behead me, I imagined, and Morale would probably influence it. SP would be skill points. The rest of the block only served to cement the dire state of this nation.

The economy was in tatters. Hana had mentioned that, but I hadn’t expected a value so far underground. Were we in debt? I felt like she’d have told me that, which made it a deficit. Did we even have any money left?

Resources weren’t something I could affect, so I figured I should focus on three things—infrastructure, Education, and Culture. Infrastructure was obvious, even if it didn’t have a yield. The better the public services, the smoother the economy would run, and construction would create jobs. Higher Education increased the average wage, so tax revenue went up too. Culture drew tourism.

The problem was, I had no idea how I’d improve any of them. It was one thing learning about economics in a university, but putting it into practice was a level above—this came with a crushing responsibility. I had to worry about social aspects, too, like the comical crime rate, but improving the economy would hopefully mitigate that.

Religion was high for my taste. People could believe what they wanted, but when those beliefs started influencing policy, it never ended well. I was an atheist, but I understood. In times of hardship, people turned to a greater power.

Our Military Strength seemed fine for now. As long as we weren’t helpless, other areas took precedence. But how could I, alone, affect change?

Maybe I didn’t have to.

Organisations had two types. First was the pyramid, stalwart against raging desert storms, the many bricks of the bottom holding up the few at the top. Then there was the tower, able to expand ever upward, but only as strong as its foundation.

A pyramid couldn’t exist without the lower blocks. A tower that only had foundations was nothing more than a hole in the ground.

I focused on the Specialists tab.

Okay, their levels seemed high, but what use would a Knight be in government? And what was ‘Divine Gravity’ supposed to mean?

[Information: a Mage is capable of casting spells from one of six magic schools. Those with the ‘Divine’ modifier are also able to use Divine magic.]

That seemed… far too reasonable for this potato System. Shaking my head, I zoomed in on Hana.

Wait, how was her Charisma so high? She had all the personality of a rubber duck. A quick scroll through her skills revealed her to only be useful in combat. As a Knight, that figured.

Come to think of it, how could she use Skills without the System?

…

No answers, then. Great. I shuffled it near the bottom of my ever-expanding mound of questions and continued.

Weren’t elves supposed to have high DEX? She had the most egregious case of crippling overspecialisation I’d ever seen, worse than the most intense min-maxers to grace a game table.

That was a lot of spells, though. Studying them, I discovered her to be a natural disaster unto herself. Space-warping, landscape-altering, you name it. Several abilities were bolded, and had the preface [DIVINE GRIMOIRE].

I’d have to ask about that later.

Her Skills, like Hana’s, were mostly dedicated to enhancing combat and casting. She had some utility, but nothing as convenient as conjuring a heap of gold.

I cradled my face. I had no Skills, and no way out of this nightmare—all I wanted was to wake up. But I wasn’t sleeping, I was in a stupid world with a stupid System and stupid problems that I didn’t stand a chance of solving, at least not alone. If I wanted to do this—I didn’t, but apparently I didn’t have a choice—I’d need to assemble a reliable team.

Ding! Static invaded my skull again as the view shifted.

Wait, what? Why had it waited until now?!

My eyes almost bugged out. I had no idea where it had come from, but that was enough to level up 5 times over, and precious SP as well. How much did Skills cost? If I could accumulate those as well as subordinates, maybe I could drag this country out of the sea of shit it was drowning in.

Then I could hunt monsters.

I activated [Locate Specialist].

NiallStephens

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