Reborn at End of Ottoman Empire: a Misfortune or an Oppurtunitiy?
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- NO.200+UNTERSTÜTZEN
Transmigrated at end times of a crumbling empire, our pratagonist will seek oppurtunities of founding a republic.
The steady hum of machinery filled the underground lab as Dr. Ahmet Yılmaz adjusted the final parameters on his console. The cluttered space, deep beneath the Bosphorus University campus, was littered with advanced equipment, wires snaking across the floor like tangled vines. At the heart of it all stood the quantum computer, a gleaming lattice of superconducting qubits pulsing with a hypnotic, rhythmic light.
This was it—years of work, research, and sleepless nights, all leading to this moment. Ahmet had designed the machine not just to model historical events but to simulate alternate timelines with unrivaled precision. Tonight, it would run its most ambitious program yet: a simulation of 1839, a pivotal year in the decline of the Ottoman Empire.
His fingers hovered over the keyboard, a brief hesitation tightening his chest. This was the final test. A few keystrokes, and the computer would scour history for the exact moment where everything could have changed.
"Let's see what you've got," he muttered to himself.
With a final click, the sequence began. The room dimmed as the machine drew power, the hum deepening. Ahmet's pulse quickened as data flooded the screen, too fast for him to follow. The computer was analyzing an ocean of information—troop movements, diplomatic decisions, economic shifts—every detail that might have altered history.
Then, something went wrong.
The hum shifted, becoming a sharp, grating whine. The lights flickered, and the machine began to overheat. The air felt thick, vibrating with static.
"Shut down!" Ahmet slammed his hand on the emergency button, but the machine ignored him. The whine intensified, rising to a deafening screech. And then, without warning, everything around him shattered into darkness.
When Ahmet opened his eyes, he expected to find himself buried under debris. But instead, sunlight blinded him, and the smell of dust, sweat, and something metallic assaulted his senses. He squinted, trying to make sense of his surroundings.
This wasn't his lab.
He stood in a narrow alley, cobblestones beneath his feet, the ancient walls of an unfamiliar Istanbul towering above. The distant clatter of horse-drawn carts echoed, mingling with the low hum of voices speaking a language long past.
His heart pounded. He stumbled forward, emerging onto a wider street. There were no cars, no modern buildings—only the familiar yet ancient architecture of old Istanbul. Domes and minarets loomed on the horizon, and the streets bustled with men in robes and turbans, women gliding past in veils, traders hawking their wares in Ottoman Turkish.
His stomach churned. This wasn't 2025.
Before panic could fully take hold, something else crept into his awareness—a sound, a voice.
Ahmet...
He froze. The voice wasn't familiar. It wasn't even external. The sound resonated inside his head, a low, mechanical hum at the base of his skull.
Quantum machine operational. Accessing historical data.
"What?" he whispered, clutching his head. Was he losing his mind?
The hum grew louder, the voice clearer.
Time of displacement: 1839. Location: Ottoman Empire, Constantinople. Events coinciding: Tanzimat Reforms.
Ahmet's breath caught. His eyes widened. "No… no, this can't be real."
But as he looked around, the pieces fell into place. The streets, the people, the architecture—it wasn't a simulation. This was real. And the voice in his head—it was the quantum machine. It had somehow come with him, integrated into his very mind.
His pulse raced. The accident hadn't just destroyed the lab. It had thrown him, mind and body, into the past. The quantum computer was now part of him, its vast knowledge accessible in ways he could never have imagined.
Ahmet staggered to a nearby wall, his head swimming with a flood of information. Data poured into his mind—timelines, maps, weapons schematics, tactics. The machine's voice spoke with cold precision, narrating the world around him.
Tanzimat Reforms initiated under Sultan Abdülmecid I. Immediate actions required for historical alignment: military modernization, political restructuring.
"No, this is impossible," he muttered. "I'm a historian, not some… time traveler."
But the facts were undeniable. He was in 1839, at the very moment he had studied for years. And somehow, the quantum machine had become his guide.
Sweat dripped down his face as he looked at his modern clothes—a lab coat out of place in this sea of Ottoman robes. He needed to stay calm. He needed more information.
Focus, Ahmet.
Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes, reaching inward. The hum intensified, and in an instant, his mind filled with more data—details of advanced firearms, artillery, and naval technology that no one in 1839 could have conceived.
"How… how do I control this?" he whispered, overwhelmed by the possibilities. But the machine's voice was relentless.
Immediate military upgrades recommended. Access to advanced technology is available.
Ahmet pressed his palms to his temples, trying to slow the flood of knowledge. He wasn't ready for this. But deep inside, he knew it wasn't just an accident. He had been given something powerful. A gift—and a curse. He had the ability to change history. To reshape the fate of an empire.
But with that power came an agonizing responsibility. What if altering history unleashed catastrophic consequences? Ethical questions spiraled in his mind.
Do I use this knowledge? he thought. Do I dare change history? Or do I find a way back before I do something that can't be undone?
Before he could wrestle with the thought, a sharp voice interrupted.
"You there!" a man called out in Ottoman Turkish. Ahmet turned to see a stern officer in the familiar uniform of the Sultan's personal guard, glaring at him. "What are you doing, dressed like that?"
Ahmet froze, his mind scrambling for an answer. But before he could respond, the machine's voice echoed once more in his head, cold and calculating.
Opportunity detected. Approach with caution.
