by 1650th
When most people dream of waking up in another world, they imagine grand adventures, heroic destinies, monsters to slay, and ancient magic waiting to be mastered. They picture themselves becoming legends. Reality had been far crueller to my fate. I awoke in the corpse of a civilisation. Centuries ago, something shattered the world. No one remembers exactly what happened. The old nations are gone, their cities buried beneath ash and rust. What remains is a dying world scavenging the bones of its own past. I found myself among a techno-cult devoted to preserving and reclaiming the knowledge of the Old World. They believe humanity's downfall came not from discovery itself, but from wisdom failing to guide it. They wander the ruins searching for lost archives, forgotten laboratories, and the shattered remnants of a brighter age, determined to ensure that humanity never sinks completely into ignorance. Knowledge, to them, is sacred. The mundane is shared freely. Yet for all their lofty ideals, they remain products of a brutal age. Knowledge attracts envy. The wasteland is filled with raiders, warlords, fanatics, and desperate people willing to kill for a scrap of forgotten technology. Even the most enlightened philosophy must contend with the reality that someone has to carry the spear. I learned quickly that survival demands sacrifice. Trust can get you killed. Mercy can become a weapon turned against you. Hesitation can leave your corpse feeding the scavengers that haunt the ruins. Every day is a struggle not to become another nameless victim swallowed by the violence and desperation of a broken world. Yet my reincarnation was not entirely without reward. Something changed when I crossed into this world that will give me the edge.
