The first thing Alex noticed wasn't the pain, nor the cold. It was the smell.
It wasn't the stale ozone of the subway or the metallic tang of blood from the alleyway where he had died. It was the scent of wet earth—fermenting, heavy, and primeval. It smelled of crushed pine needles and a silence so deep it felt heavy on his eardrums.
Then came the light. Not the flickering neon of the city, but a dappled, shifting green filtered through a canopy so thick it blocked the sky.
"..."
Alex didn't scream. He didn't panic. He simply sat up, his movements stiff and heavy, and took in his surroundings with a cold, analytical gaze.
He was in a forest. Massive trees, wider than city buses, towered around him. The air was humid, sticking to his skin.
I died, he thought. It wasn't a question. It was a statement of fact.
He remembered the robbery. He had been walking home, clutching a plastic bag containing The Rise of the Unyielding King, Volume 17. He had pre-ordered that book months ago—a masterpiece of strategy and conquest. He hadn't even taken it out of the shrink wrap.
Then the man in the hoodie. The knife. The cold sensation of steel sliding between his ribs.
Alex looked down at his chest. There was no blood. There was no hole in his shirt.
In fact, there was no shirt.
Encasing his torso was a breastplate of matte black steel, etched with silver thorns. Heavy pauldrons weighed down his shoulders. His hands were encased in articulated gauntlets that flexed with terrifying precision.
Alex raised a gauntleted hand and tapped the breastplate. Clink.
Real steel. Masterwork quality.
He recognized this armor.
A few days ago, he had run out of things to read. Desperate, he had hate-read a trending web novel titled The Saintess's Rose. It was trash—a romance story about a weeping Saintess and a Hero Prince. The plot was riddled with inefficiencies, the kingdom's economy was nonsense, and the characters were driven by hormones rather than logic.
But he remembered the villain.
Count Valerius Vermillion. The "Third Antagonist." A stalker ex-fiancé who wore edgy black armor and was exiled to the "Forbidden Forest" in Chapter 3 so the main couple could flirt without distractions.
"Valerius," Alex whispered. His voice was deep, smooth, and utterly devoid of warmth.
He approached a stagnant pool of water gathered between the roots of a massive tree. The reflection confirmed it. Pale skin, sharp cheekbones, and eyes the color of dried blood.
He had become the rejected villain.
Alex stood up, brushing dirt off his greaves. Most people would be screaming. Most would be mourning their old life.
Alex felt nothing of the sort. In his old life, he was a ghost—an introvert who existed in the margins of society, silently judging the inefficiencies of the world around him. He had no friends to miss. No family was waiting for him. Just a stack of strategy novels and a burning desire for order that the chaotic real world never satisfied.
"The Hinterlands of Nibelung," he noted, scanning the hostile flora. "A dumping ground for political prisoners. Zero infrastructure. High monster density."
He kicked a rotting log. It crumbled, revealing a nest of centipedes.
"Perfect."
A chime rang in his skull. Clear. Digital.
[ System Initialization Complete. ]
[ Host: Valerius Vermillion (Alex) ]
[ Class: Exiled Sovereign ]
[ Current Status: Vulnerable ]
A blue window materialized in the air. It wasn't the colorful, sparkling menu of a romance game. It was stark, grey, and minimalist.
[ Objective: Survive. ]
Alex stared at the text. "Survive? That's it?"
He scoffed. Survival was the baseline. Survival was what animals did.
"System," he said, his voice commanding. "Show me my assets."
The window flickered.
[ Territory: Unclaimed Hinterlands ]
[ Population: 1 ]
[ Military Power: 5 (Personal Combat Prowess) ]
[ Construction Points (CP): 100 ]
He tabbed over to the [ Shop ].
He expected to see magic potions or legendary swords. Instead, the grid displayed blueprints and tools.
Palisade Wall (Blueprint) - 30 CP
Watchtower (Blueprint) - 50 CP
Pioneer's Iron Axe - 10 CP
Iron Ingot (x10) - 5 CP
Alex's eyes narrowed. This wasn't a hero's shop. This was a conqueror's shop.
In The Saintess's Rose, the Kingdom of Rosalia was a soft, decadent place. The Prince focused on balls and tea parties. The knights were glorified bodyguards. They had forgotten what true power looked like.
Alex looked at his gauntleted hands. He clenched them into fists, feeling the raw power of the armor.
He didn't want to build a cozy farming village. He didn't want to secure a supply chain for wheat.
He wanted a fortress. He wanted walls so high that the "Hero Prince" would break his neck looking up at them. He wanted an expansion of territory that would turn this prison forest into a capital of iron and blood.
"Open Shop," he ordered. "Purchase Pioneer's Iron Axe."
[ Transaction Complete. Remaining CP: 90 ]
A sturdy, bearded axe materialized in his grip. It wasn't a legendary weapon glowing with holy light. It was a utilitarian tool—a blackened steel head mounted on a reinforced hickory handle. It felt balanced, heavy enough to carry momentum but light enough for repeated swings.
[ Item: Pioneer's Iron Axe ]
[ Grade: Common (Reinforced) ]
[ Effect: +20% Efficiency against timber. The edge resists chipping even against hardwood. ]
"Functional," Alex muttered, giving it a test swing. The air hissed as the blade sliced through it.
He turned to the nearest tree—an ancient Ironwood, thick as a pillar.
[ Object: Ancient Ironwood ]
[ Analysis: High Durability. Ideal for Siege Weaponry and Heavy Fortifications. ]
"Siege Weaponry," Alex repeated, a small, cold smile touching his lips.
He stepped into a wide stance and swung the axe. It struck the tree with a solid, resonant THUNK.
It didn't fall off the giant tree in one magical blow. This wasn't a game. But where a normal axe would have bounced off the iron-hard bark, this blade bit deep, burying itself three inches into the wood. It held fast, the steel refusing to buckle.
It was powerful enough to tame the wild, but it would still require his sweat to build his empire. That suited him just fine.
[ Resource Acquired: Ironwood Log (x1) ]
Alex wrenched the axe free, wood chips flying. He looked into the deeper, darker parts of the forest. He could feel the monster gaze in the shadows. Let them watch.
"The writers threw Valerius away because he was inconvenient," Alex said to the silence. "They thought exile was the end."
He stepped forward, his black armor absorbing the scant light of the forest.
"They were wrong. This isn't an exile."
He swung the axe again, the rhythmic sound of chopping shattering the silence.
"This is a foundation."