At the age of four, my information gathering is mostly complete. I can read and speak Japanese, which has made information gathering easier.
The first thing I realized was that this territory was in decline. The country I find myself in is called the “Beltria Kingdom.” If I were to compare it to Earth, it resembles Europe around the 13th century, with a distinct French vibe.
Speaking of 13th-century France… Ah, yes! The Hundred Years’ War! It’s similar to Japan’s Sengoku period. Unlike centralized modern states, here in Beltria, nobles (akin to our warlords) fight amongst themselves.
Remember Japan, where there was an emperor, but folks like Oda Nobunaga and Uesugi Kenshin fought and vied for territories? Well, it’s a similar situation here. The king may be the nominal ruler, but each noble does as they please.
“Joan of Arc, come quickly!” I half-jokingly call out, longing for her presence. But it’s not quite the chaotic world of the apocalypse; there are frequent truces, and nobles mainly capture each other for ransom.
Now, the real issue lies with the neighboring countries—they’re all a bunch of fools! Despite constant internal wars, they borrow foreign loans just to play at war. They engage in half-hearted battles, taking hostages and being taken hostage, all while using other people’s money.
Their motto seems to be: “Fighting is noble; money is base.” And guess who’s accepting those foreign loans? The “Proxia Republic,” a commercial nation focused on maritime trade in the nearby Natewhale Sea.
The Republic willingly takes on hefty foreign debt at around 10% interest. Borrow a million, pay back a hundred thousand more! They’re making a killing. But what collateral do they demand if you can’t repay? I wonder.
So, for about a century now, these countries have been borrowing foreign loans to fund their war games. A century of servicing 10% interest on those loans. Sigh, I want to go home…
Already, they’ve seized various assets—land, rights, and even tariff privileges. The sea right in front of our country? It’s open for free passage, thanks to the Republic. Laughable, really.
“Napoleon, come quickly!” I jest, but deep down, I know it’s impossible. I can’t live in such a place. I’m leaving. Even this territory, burdened with debt, is no different. My father, the lord, is militarily inclined and terrible with finances.
This remote village, with a population of about five hundred, survives on monoculture—wheat farming. But it’s hardly the most prosperous in the kingdom. Our location is terrible, adjacent to the “Forest of Magic,” where powerful monsters roam.
And the local boss? The Count of Karenheit. We’re basically his subordinates. Serving the border count who serves the royal family. As a knight, I’m at the bottom of the hierarchy.
Yes, it’s impossible. I’m leaving. I’ll study hard, master magic, and find another country to call home. I can’t bear this any longer.
But there’s one silver lining: I’m a “sorcerer.” Magic users are rare—one in a hundred. Even if you’re born into humble circumstances, being a sorcerer grants you a modicum of noble treatment.
Among magic users, there’s an even rarer breed—the “Mage Knights.” They can wield magic effectively in combat. Being a Mage Knight is an honor, regardless of your skill level.
Becoming an official in the kingdom or working as an adventurer—essentially a monster exterminator—allows you to start from the third rank out of the six available.
Remarkable sorcerers can be picked up by high-ranking nobles regardless of their social status. It’s truly overwhelming to think that even in a declining country, they’d consider employing me.
However, this perspective seems universal across the world. Every country and lord seems to have at least one sorcerer. The number of sorcerers serves as a barometer for military strength and territorial prowess.
Here’s how it breaks down:
- None: Trash like us, garbage knights.
- One: Average knights or barons.
- Two or Three: Average barons.
- Five: Viscounts and earls.
- Ten: Border counts and dukes.
- Fifteen or so: Dukes up to royalty.
This pattern holds true nationwide. Sorcerers are valued wherever they go. So now, all I can do is practice magic and learn about this world.
I no longer have any attachment to my original world. I must find a way to live happily here, despite the country’s woes.
And so, I venture beyond the village to test my magic. I’ve tried various spells, but I haven’t experimented with data loading yet. For instance, there’s a variable called “Fire.” What would happen if I loaded it into myself?
Humans operate like CPUs, right? We read data, add mana, and produce output based on our biological processes. But what about memory? If I were to load memory information from somewhere into my body, would it be safe?
Could information overload drive me insane? And using my own body as a magical conduit is equally risky. Imagine using a heat-inducing spell and accidentally turning my hand into charcoal!
However, I’ve managed to write magical formulas. Using “Pop Iron” to create a circular iron plate based on x^2 + y^2, I fashioned an iron frying pan. Then, I modified another variable, “Bullet,” and shot it at a rabbit with a speed of around 340 meters per second using the “Shot” variable.
The incantation goes: “Pop Bullet Mana Add One Pop Shot Mana Add One Output Front.” It launches a bullet akin to a handgun round at supersonic speed.
If I doubled the mana addition for “Shot,” would it go twice the speed of sound? I won’t risk it without proper observation.
After dispatching the rabbit, I attempted to butcher it—though I’m not very skilled. I cut out the thigh meat and cooked it in the iron pan. Meat rarely appears on the table; it’s always tough black bread and bean soup.
Animal protein—yum! And so, I secretly feast.
