Create a bill that punishes corrupt officials with death!"

But then they say: "Killing is against the law. They're human too, and have a right to live!"

Damn those so-called Human Rights activists.

Anyone running for office should serve the people, not exploit them.

And yet, time and again—
They hunger for power.
They bend the laws.
They steal the people’s taxes.

I was nothing but a small internet café owner, struggling to pay bills. But my life changed when I stumbled upon someone in a dark web forum. A shadow with a code name, who taught me everything—from basic programming to breaching secure national servers.

I became an anonymous whistleblower.
Exposed corrupt politicians.
Flooded social media with undeniable proof.

But one night, I made a mistake.
I forgot to activate my VPN. Forgot to scramble my signal.

And they came.
Secret agents. Black ops.

They didn’t arrest me.
They executed me.

I thought that was the end.

But fate had other plans.

I woke up… not on Earth…

…in a world ruled by mana and aura.

A world where kingdoms rise and fall by the strength of their swordsmen and mages…
…where corruption bleeds through nobility like poison in wine.

And this time, I won’t make the same mistake.

This time, I’ll burn their world from the inside out.

Caldus Verentis was a man who noticed what others missed.


In battle, he had once seen a rider's hesitation a half-second before a trap was sprung. At court, he read lies behind silver tongues. On the training field, he knew when a young knight held back their real strength.


Achilles wasn't like other noble children.


He didn't pout. Didn't boast. He asked very few questions, but when he did, they were strange ones.


> "Why are chants required for low-level spells, but not for potion-based incantations?"


"Can I see what the raw mana looks like before the glyph forms it?"


"Is it possible to modify how the sword carries the enchantment before it's invoked?"


Too young to know what a "raw mana thread" was.


And yet, he asked as if he already knew the answer—and simply wanted confirmation.


Caldus watched from the edge of the courtyard during training.


Achilles, in his small sparring gear, faced the practice dummy.


He moved with careful form—precise, not wild. Polite, not prideful.


The training dummy split, not from brute force… but from some unseen edge. The instructor blinked in confusion.


> "Odd… the grain must have been weak…"


Just a clean, sharp line of burn through solid wood.


That night, Caldus opened a sealed scroll in his study.


Not many knew that before becoming a noble lord, Caldus had studied arcane threat reports for the royal court. Once, he had seen records of rogue mages—those who operated without chant or glyph. The reports were filled with half-truths and myths:


"A child who could burn a man with a whisper."


"A woman who summoned lightning with no incantation."


"Magic that moved like thought, not prayer."


—but because no one could control it.


Caldus returned to the balcony outside Achilles' room. The boy was asleep.


His hands, though small, were calloused from sword practice. His mind, even in sleep, seemed distant—as if reaching toward something no one else could see.


> My son is not dangerous, Caldus thought.


> "If the court ever comes for him… I will stand between them and my son."


Chapter 3 - The Father's Gaze