Chapter One: Where Is My Ghost Hand? The Legacy of the Grand Sorcerer Mar!
“Can someone please explain to me how, after just finishing a run and successfully defeating Dirije and even flipping the golden medal, I suddenly ended up sitting on the ground?”
Yelin sat on a patch of grass, frowning as he surveyed his surroundings.
Sunlight barely filtered through the dense canopy overhead. Ancient trees soared into the sky, their gnarled trunks entwined with twisted vines. Strange, protruding rocks were carpeted with lush green moss, and the air was thick with a fresh, damp scent.
No one else would know that just a moment ago, he was slouched in the battered manager’s chair at an internet café, a custom fifteen-yuan milk tea sitting beside him.
Today was the annual raid day. The dogged raid leader had insisted that everyone coming to the café wear suits; those without at least had to look clean and sharp, speak politely, and absolutely refrain from colorfully insulting the game developers.
Drinks under ten yuan were forbidden; you had to spend at least ten.
“Could it be… have I transmigrated?”
Yelin gritted his teeth and, steeling himself, slapped his own cheek.
Slap!
A buzzing pain shot through him—his right cheek went numb and hot, his mind humming.
“It really hurts. I’ve transmigrated!”
Suddenly, behind a boulder in front of him, a creature poked its head out—pointed snout, jagged teeth, green skin, about half his height, clutching a spiked club and wearing a grass skirt.
“A goblin!”
Damn, I was a level 120 badass swordsman, carrying five swords. Dealing with a lowly goblin should be a piece of cake—system, save me!
Yelin threw his head back and roared to the sky!
If he really had transmigrated, maybe his legendary gear (brand new) had come with him, and he ought to still be that level 120 swordmaster!
But…
There was no response. The goblin, however, was startled by his shout and turned tail, fleeing in panic.
This human was terrifying—his voice was as loud as a minotaur’s, leaving its ears ringing.
“Huh?”
Yelin was stunned, then quickly looked at his arm…
Where was his demon hand?
Though Sword Soul was said to have overcome the Kazan syndrome, becoming one of the infamous three sewer legends, pushing swordsmanship to its limits with unyielding will, boosting his team’s critical hit rate by 25%…
No, technically, while Sword Soul suppressed the corruption of the demon hand with calibration tools, it wasn’t actually cured—just improved. The demon hand should still be there, but now it was gone…
Suddenly, a phosphorescent screen appeared before him, visible only to himself. At its center, a 3D model of himself slowly rotated.
On the left was his level: LV…1.
HP: 200/200
MP: 158/158
Strength: 9
Intelligence: 6
Endurance: 9
Spirit: 6
Physical Attack: 6
Other stats, he ignored…
“It’s here, no worries. Level one, that’s weak, but normal!”
Yelin nodded with satisfaction. As long as the game system was still here, he wasn’t just an ordinary person.
Class: Supreme Mage (Second Class) (First Class selectable…)
“Wait, what’s this? I was a great… support swordsman, master of weaponry, wielding five swords—not some cross-dressing mage!”
Supreme Mage: A class inherited from the great mage Marl, with Marl’s legacy (Mark of Heaven) included.
Mark of Heaven: The great mage Marl recorded all his magical knowledge in a comprehensive tome, then vanished from the world.
Effect One: The Mark of Heaven allows free learning of the four basic elements—ice, fire, darkness, and light—as well as the fifth and sixth elements and some summoning magic.
Effect Two: The Mark contains unique spells devised by Marl, unlockable at certain levels. (All things magic are here!)
Effect Three: The Mark of Heaven records wondrous magic circles, including Arad’s Creation Circle, usable at specific levels.
“So I’ve gone from a godly swordsman to a mage? But a hidden class mage?”
Yelin scratched the back of his head. Although Marl didn’t appear much in the official game story, he was one of those figures whose legend permeated every corner, even when he wasn’t present.
Marl raised the Sea of Sky with magic, gave birth to the continent of Arad, and then disappeared…
Later, after the fall of the Pelos Empire, the rampage of the Mad Dragon, the invasion of the Evil Dragon, the Dark Holy War, and other events, in Arad Year 471, Marl set a magic circle in the endless Central Desert, forcibly transforming the barren land.
Centuries later, the neutral and peaceful Duchy of Belmar was born.
As for the great mage Marl, no one knew where he went—only mysterious legends remained.
Marl was also one of the few characters in the game lore whose power was unknown but undoubtedly immense—rumors claimed he could crush the head of the First Apostle, “The Fated One” Kahn, in one hand.
Of course, Yelin figured that was probably made up…
After all, in his time, Syrock had been brought out for a raid, Lotus had hatched another egg and been raided, and after Dirije was exiled and forcibly resurrected, he’d been raided too.
Yet Kahn, that big shot, still hung around the Mage Association’s square, brooding in silence.
He was the apostles’ last shred of dignity!
As for the Second Sister Held, she was still playing the master manipulator, wantonly driving brave adventurers as her tools.
“Let’s see what else made it over with me.”
Yelin opened the consumables tab. Sure enough, there was a heap of powerful—yet raid-banned—potions, every single one present.
Looking at the tens of thousands of golden fleeces, fruit juices, and Remy’s assistance, he saw the evidence of his past microtransactions…
In the materials tab, all sorts of random items were there too, including the “Infection Core” from the Dirije raid.
“Huh? Gold?”
Yelin frowned at the bottom of his personal info—over twenty million gold coins. These made it over too? But would they work here?
Still, as much as that sounded, it wasn’t enough to feed Kaylee a few times. That woman’s gold-sucking ability was terrifying.
You’d arrive a billionaire, and leave empty-handed.
Why both hands empty? Because your gear broke during enhancement.
If Kaylee really existed in this world, Yelin would bet his life to show her what it meant to be weak at the knees—what it meant to be truly shocked!
He reached out to tap the gold coin icon, suspecting it was a link. As expected, a new interface overlaid his personal menu—the shop!
The shop had changed, though, with most items gone—only fancy costumes, potions, urns, and the like remained.
Auction coupons, auto-repair, resurrection coins—all wiped out…
The real highlight, though, was the equipment tab!
“My chosen gear, the legendary set, the universe’s finest… Don’t tell me I lost it! My armor, weapons, jewelry… are all still here!”
Yelin let out a huge sigh of relief. Gear was everything. No matter how high your level, without the right equipment, no one would take you on a raid!
Oddly, because he was only LV1, all his gear was grayed out—unusable.
But he was a nostalgic sort: he’d collected sets like Dragon Spine, Demon War, and Rift, all stored in his warehouse. Who knew, maybe they’d come in handy.
And as a possible second-class mage, wielding a sword was perfectly normal!
After all, mages using swords was an eternal truth, even across the universe!
Plus, if he found Mentor GSD, perhaps he could even learn new skills for free…
The warehouse was here too.
Curiously, some equipment levels had changed—like Master Karuya’s final work, the “Rift-Mind Blade,” now required LV60 and other restrictions.
“Help! Someone, save me!”
From somewhere in the woods—not far, perhaps the place called Lorlan—a panicked, desperate, and unmistakably female cry for help rang out.
Seria!
It had to be Seria!
“So the timeline I’ve landed in is the same as most adventurers—right after the Grand Forest fire? That means the Beast King guy is dead… and it’s the year 990 of Arad…”
Yelin looked at his only skill, “Magic Star Bullet,” his face burning with embarrassment…
His level was too low—none of Marl’s spells were available yet.
Oh yeah!
Oh yeah!
Oh yeah!
Was he really supposed to go save Seria, shouting like that all the way?
But this time, fate was in his own hands!
Seria Crumin—the woman who took all his spare change, who greeted him every day in her cottage with, “Today, too, is a day full of hope [seventy thousand].”
Should he save her or not?