When I stood aboard a Viking pirate ship bound for Sardinia, I wanted nothing to do with transmigration. But then I discovered I had a System. Transmigrate? Who doesn't these days?
From then on, I lived a strange life of being reborn again and again.
In my spare time, I joined some lively societies: the Assassins, the freedom-of-religion Satanists, the human-liberation Lilith Club, and the Knowledge-Is-Power Alchemists' Society.
I built my kingdom with blood and fire.
Then, during a society gathering, I met a bald magician.
Werewolves started eating people in my territory. I discovered hidden vampires attacking people, and witches laying curses.
Reports came in of fishmen appearing by the coast and locals practicing heretical beliefs.
Someone even reported that a god driving a round carriage had taken away more than a hundred of my subjects.
But most importantly, my first child grew a pair of wings. I feel like I've been cheated on.
I realized this world wasn't quite what I'd imagined. How much longer can I survive here?
Forget it. First, I'll kill my husband and find a family member who can give birth instead. (Transformation, utter villainy.)
I'll leave behind descendants, then join Jerusalem's grand lottery.
And before the Black Death arrives, I'll move the capital to Iceland.
That's enough for the blurb. I'm off to write a book about my family.
