Lord of Caldera

One day, without any warning, Nick found himself inside a game. The name of the game was Throne of the Supreme.

It was a fantasy game set in the medieval era, where players became one of the warlords and waged conquest.

The objective the game presented to Nick was simple:

[Victory Condition: End your life as the ruler of a domain.]

However, the conditions were tough. He was born in a rural village. Although he had noble blood, he was an illegitimate son. To make matters worse, he had no exceptional talents.

From the very start, he was in a disadvantaged position. In terms of difficulty, it was rated above advanced. Yet, Nick simply laughed.

"That's nothing."

He had played this game over and over, hundreds of times. Becoming the ruler of a domain? That wasn't a problem at all.

It wasn't like he had to become a king, just a noble with some land. A baron or a viscount would suffice. What could possibly be so hard about that?

There was a time when he thought like that.

"Huff, huff!"

Nick—no, the man now called Sylas in this world—was riding his horse frantically.

His body was covered in wounds from the fierce battle he had just fought, and every part of him was screaming for rest.

Sylas wanted nothing more than to collapse and sleep right then and there. The problem was the men chasing him from behind.

"Catch him! He went that way!"

"Let the others know! We can't let him escape!"

Persistent bastards. Sylas ground his teeth as he listened to the mercenaries' voices. It would've been nice if they were amateurs, but no, their moves proved they were seasoned veterans.

Just as expected, the footsteps around him started to multiply. It was clear the net was closing in on him.

"Damn it, this is so unfair."

The mess Sylas was in wasn't even his fault. It was all because of the Corleone family's foolish blunder, which had earned them the emperor's wrath. The emperor had vowed to wipe out the entire Corleone family. For Sylas, who had left the family long ago, it was like a bolt out of the blue.

"Damn that emperor."

Even in an era where familial punishment was normal, wiping out an entire family was extreme. Many nobles had protested the emperor's excessive order, but he had ignored them all and carried out the massacre.

Now, Sylas—who was guilty of nothing—was caught up in this nightmare. Then, from a distance, a knight shouted.

"Sylas Corleone! Aren't you ashamed as a knight? Stop running like a rat and face me with honor!"

"Are you serious right now?"

Was he really calling for a duel while hiding behind an army of mercenaries? Sylas couldn't believe it and swore under his breath.

"Who's the loudmouth? Acting all noble while hiding behind hired swords like some kind of honorable knight!"

"That... that bastard!"

Sylas's taunt worked, and the knight trembled with rage. Watching this, Sylas casually flicked his middle finger in a crude gesture. The knight, now furious, screamed.

"Catch him! No—kill him! We won't even get a ransom for this scum!"

"Shit!"

Sylas cursed. In most battles, nobles preferred capturing rather than killing their opponents. It was simple: dead enemies brought grudges and no money, while live ones could be ransomed for a hefty sum.

Sure, deaths happened in battle, but the idea was to avoid fatal blows. Even a traitor like Sylas might be spared, depending on the emperor's whims. Capturing was usually the smarter move.

But when someone aimed to kill, the game changed. Sylas saw the mercenaries' eyes sharpen at the knight's command.

"Fire!"

The mercenaries, who had been using nets, now switched to crossbows without hesitation. A bolt grazed Sylas's cheek, drawing warm blood. Feeling a chill run down his spine, Sylas grabbed his bow and nocked an arrow. He had to break through!

Thwip!

"Ugh!"

'Nice shot!' Sylas cheered as one of the mercenaries fell. It had been a while since he'd hit a target so cleanly, especially while on horseback.

[You gain experience points from perfect shooting.]

[Due to the trait 'Mediocre' proficiency is capped.]

[You have reached your limit; shooting proficiency will not increase.]

For a moment, the good feelings I had experienced fell back into despair. 'Mediocre'. A negative trait that prevents all abilities from rising above 'Expert.'

This was one of the reasons Sylas could not achieve greatness in this world.

What was the point of honing his skills if he couldn't raise his abilities beyond a certain point?

'Why the hell did they include something like this!'

Cursing internally, Sylas spurred his horse. Fortunately, the mercenaries hesitated a bit due to his previous shot.

Maybe he could escape if he just kept running !

"Don't let him get away! I'll reward you handsomely with gold coins if you bring me his head!"

"That bastard…!"

Just when it seemed he might escape, the knight encouraged the mercenaries. The mercenaries, who were about to back off, went wild at the mention of gold coins and charged again.

Crossbows and bolts rained down from all directions, and spears repeatedly lunged at him. He dodged as best as he could, but there was a limit.

Thud.

"Cough!"

A bolt struck Sylas in the back. As his body swayed, the horse sensed its rider's instability and recoiled.

That small opening proved to be fatal.

"Fire!"

Bam! Bam! Bam!

At the signal of the mercenary captain, bolts flew in from all directions. There was no time to evade or any way to survive.

Sylas shut his eyes tightly, feeling the slow approach of death. A phrase he had long held in his heart echoed in his mind.

'If I could just have one more chance.'

Having played this game hundreds of times, he had let his guard down. When things didn't go as planned, he made the mistake of giving up on moving forward and settling instead.

Above all, it was deeply frustrating to die like this because of something that wasn't even his fault.

If he could start again, he wouldn't make the same mistake twice. It was all too late for regrets.

Thud.

"…!"

Sylas couldn't even scream as pain pierced his body like a porcupine's quills. His consciousness began to fade, and it was the moment Sylas fell from his horse.

[Ending the 'First Playthrough' for tutorial purposes.]

[Preparing to enter the main story, 'Second Playthrough.']

[Data inheritance complete. Removing the 'Mediocre' trait exclusive to the first playthrough.]

[Starting the second playthrough from the restart point.]

'…What?'

Before he could react to the words that echoed in his ears as he was dying, a white light enveloped Sylas.