by JustAGuyWithHisThoughts
Dante Valeris died at 3:12 AM on a Tuesday, pulling a kid out of a burning building. He was twenty-three. He woke up on black rock under a red sky with a voice in his chest that said two words: "You'll do." Then it gave him a class nobody's held in a thousand years, a crown of fire he can't turn off, and stats like a video game character sheet bolted to the inside of his skull. No tutorial. No guide. No explanation. Just a ruined city, a bunch of oversized rats that want to kill him, and a road sign pointing to the nearest town three days south. Dante is a firefighter, not a chosen one. He doesn't want a throne. He wants boots and a meal. But the Flame-Crowned Sovereign class doesn't care what he wants, and the crown burning above his head tells everyone in Ignarion that the old power is back. The kind of power that churches lock books about and governments send soldiers for. He's Level 1 in a world where Level 30 is dangerous and Level 100 is legend. His best skill is a fireball that can't one-shot a rat. The guild registered him under a fake class to buy him time, but word travels, and he glows in the dark. Progression Fantasy. LitRPG.
