After Roland awakened the memories from before he transmigrated, he discovered he was caught up in a storm, and that he was the storm’s very source.
Under the sunlight, war machines crushed cities.
In the dead of night, shadowy tendrils wove their webs.
In the depths of the sea, slumbering trolls stirred restlessly.
Within the temples, devout believers sang their epics.
This was a chaotic world where the supernatural and magic coexisted with steam and alchemy. Everyone who embarked on the path of advancement was searching for a way forward.
Faced with the newly opened paths of the [Sage] and the [Paladin], Roland was paralyzed by indecision.
Just then, an elf’s whisper drifted through a sea of dream flowers.
“You can have both.”
“The Royal Knights were founded in the Empress’s name to begin with. What do you mean, ‘royalist’? You media people should stop talking nonsense.”
So said Roland, commander of the Royal Knights.
The next day.
“Roland admits he is a staunch royalist.”
The Sussex Sun
