[Dear Host, the Love System is now online.]
[You have transmigrated into a fairy tale world. This system will assist you in defeating the original protagonists of these stories and conquering the queens and princesses—bringing them under your absolute charm…]
[You have obtained Trait: Alluring Sovereign (Your charm is maximized. Queens and princesses will fall helplessly under your beauty.)]
[You have obtained Trait: Perfect Body (A physique comparable to divine bloodlines. Your body is flawless, powerful, and irresistibly attractive—capable of stirring even the most virtuous queens into desire.)]
[You have obtained Skill: Insight Eye (You can perceive others' favorability toward you, allowing smoother conquest of target characters.)]
…
Adrian Vale frowned.
"…Weird. Why is this full of corrupted text? Did the language patch break?"
Floating before his eyes was a translucent system interface—visible only to him. But instead of clean, readable text, large portions of it were scrambled into incomprehensible symbols.
[Dear Host, the ?? System is now online.]
[You have transmigrated… %&7^^… defeat… )9_=*&6^%54… kings… conquer… µç×ÓË… submit…]
[You have obtained Trait: ???? (Your charm will be maximized… ^%d*+… fall… conquer… **?＜."})]
[You have obtained Trait: Perfect Body (A physique comparable to divine bloodlines… иЯА??з^d*d8**ЪСЯ…)]
[You have obtained Skill: Insight Eye (You can see others' %* value… ****…)]
…
A system.
A cheat.
And it came pre-installed with bugs.
Adrian clicked his tongue in mild annoyance.
There was no customer service here. No support ticket. No patch update. No refund.
He exhaled slowly.
"…Fine. I've played worse."
Back on Earth, he'd gone through entire games in foreign languages—no localization, no fan translations. Just raw text and guesswork. Compared to that, this wasn't even particularly bad.
At least the beginner package seemed intact.
That was what mattered.
Adrian focused again on the interface, parsing meaning through fragments of readable words buried in the corruption.
"Defeat."
"Submit."
"Conquer."
Combined with the so-called "starter rewards," the interpretation came together almost instantly.
Maxed charm?
Recruitment.
Perfect body?
Frontline combat.
Insight Eye?
A standard mechanic—loyalty tracking, threat assessment, command efficiency.
He gave a short, satisfied nod.
"No doubt about it."
"This is a war system."
Adrian stepped toward the edge of a nearby lake.
The water lay still, a mirror beneath the forest canopy. He reached up, unfastened his helmet, and lifted it away.
Cool air brushed against his face.
He leaned slightly forward.
A reflection stared back.
A tall, broad-shouldered young man clad in intricately engraved, gold-trimmed plate armor. A crimson cloak draped behind him, stirring faintly in the breeze. Black hair. Sharp features. Eyes steady and unyielding.
Even without enhancement, the face was already striking.
Now—
Something else lingered there.
An intangible pull.
A presence that bent attention without effort.
Even through the distortion of water, it was impossible to look away.
Adrian studied himself for a few seconds longer, then nodded.
"…Good. Still me."
He hadn't possessed anyone.
This was his own body—brought over whole.
Even the armor.
A custom-built, full-body heavy plate set he'd commissioned under the excuse of "cosplay." In reality, it was crafted with modern materials and methods—functional, durable, and brutally heavy.
Over thirty kilograms.
Helmet. pauldrons. breastplate. greaves. layered chainmail beneath.
The kind of equipment most people could barely stand in for more than a few minutes.
Adrian rolled his shoulders, then bounced lightly on his feet.
Once.
Twice.
The armor moved with him.
Effortlessly.
His eyes sharpened.
That… was different.
Before transmigration, his physical condition had already been exceptional. Years of training in historical combat sports and armored sparring had pushed him well beyond average—borderline professional.
But this—
This was something else entirely.
Strength flooded through his limbs like compressed steel.
Every movement carried a quiet, restrained violence.
No strain. No drag. No fatigue.
The armor felt… lighter than clothing.
Adrian turned his head slowly, scanning the forest.
Then he spotted it.
A tree.
Not massive, but solid—thick as a child's waist, rising several meters high, roots buried deep.
He walked over.
No hesitation.
Both hands closed around the trunk.
Grip tightened.
Then—
He pulled.
The ground broke.
Soil split apart as if something beneath had detonated. Roots stretched, resisted—then snapped in rapid succession, sharp cracks firing like gunshots beneath the earth.
The tree came loose.
Not gradually.
Violently.
Adrian lifted it clear from the ground, roots dangling, dirt cascading down in clumps.
He held it there for a second, weighing it.
Five hundred kilos. Maybe more, factoring in branches and moisture.
And the resistance from the soil—
Four tons? Five?
He let out a quiet breath.
"…So that's what 'divine-level physique' means."
If he pushed to his limit, his output would exceed five tons of raw force.
That wasn't human anymore.
That was something else entirely.
He paused for a moment, then shook his head slightly.
Comparing it to modern machinery felt… off.
Like reducing something mythic into a set of numbers.
If anything, this kind of strength belonged in the realm of legends—
The kind that shattered fortress gates, crushed armored soldiers, and tore through battle lines with unstoppable force.
Not something you measured against construction equipment.
He released the tree.
It crashed into the forest with a heavy, splintering impact.
Silence returned.
Adrian flexed his fingers once.
Power responded instantly.
Controlled. Obedient.
He nodded, satisfied.
"As long as this isn't some high-tier magic or martial world…"
"…this should be enough."
He straightened.
Time to move.
If this was truly a war system, then the objective was obvious.
Unification.
Simple.
Three steps.
First—acquire capital. Build a force.
Second—wage war. Expand territory.
Third—dominate the entire world.
Clean. Efficient.
Logical.
There was just one problem.
He looked around again.
Trees.
Endless trees.
No roads. No structures. No signs of civilization.
"…Great."
Spawn point: wilderness.
No supplies.
No food.
No map.
No system guidance.
Nothing.
Adrian adjusted his grip on the helmet, then slid it back into place with a metallic click.
"Then we do it the old way."
Pick a direction.
Walk.
Eventually, you hit something.
He chose one at random.
And moved.
The forest resisted him.
Dense undergrowth clawed at his legs. Twisted roots threatened to trip him. Branches hung low, obstructing vision and movement.
Under normal conditions, traversing terrain like this in full plate would be a nightmare.
Heavy. Slow. Exhausting.
But Adrian didn't slow down.
He advanced.
Fast.
Each step was deliberate, crushing obstacles rather than avoiding them. Branches snapped against his armor. Vines tore under his weight. Uneven ground flattened beneath his stride.
The armor—over thirty kilograms of reinforced metal—might as well have been decoration.
No loss of speed.
No reduction in agility.
If anything—
It amplified him.
Made him feel heavier.
More real.
More… inevitable.
His breathing stayed even.
Heartbeat steady.
The forest blurred slightly at the edges as he pushed forward, maintaining a constant pace.
Time passed.
Minutes.
Maybe longer.
No sign of civilization yet.
But that didn't matter.
Because Adrian Vale didn't wander.
He advanced.
Then—
He stopped.
Not because he was tired.
Not because he was lost.
Because something changed.
The forest went quiet.
Not natural quiet.
The kind that comes when something… clears the area.
His head tilted slightly.
Listening.
There—
Faint.
Metal.
Movement.
And—
Voices.
Distant.
But real.
Adrian's eyes narrowed behind the visor.
A slow smile formed, unseen.
"Finally."
Civilization.
Or—
Something close enough.
He shifted his stance.
And began walking again.
This time—
Toward the sound.