Chapter 1: Why Is the System’s Head So Pointed?

The setting sun turned the tranquil surface of the lake into a shade of caramel. Roland grabbed a handful of pine branches and tossed them into the fire before him. Sparks leapt over the small pot suspended above the flames and vanished into the dusk.

A gentle bubbling rose from the pot, the fragrance of fish soup drifting out to blend with the cool lake breeze that brushed Roland’s cheek. Yet his gaze remained fixed on the wind-ruffled lake before him.

[...System initializing...Error detected, repairing...Repair completed, system binding complete.]

[Destined Savior System activated.]

[Novice quest triggered.]

[Host, please explore the plague-ridden city of Ryscan, investigate the hidden truth behind the catastrophe, seek a way to lift the plague, and uncover the actions of the Nightmare Witch Karya during the disaster for the world to see.]

[Quest objectives as follows:]

[1. Uncover the truth and process of the catastrophe.]

[2. Collect as many virus samples as possible.]

[3. Find evidence of Nightmare Witch Karya’s involvement in planning the disaster.]

[4. Escape safely from plague-ridden Ryscan.]

[Each completed objective grants a reward. Selecting the fourth objective directly will be considered an abandonment of the first three.]

[Ding! Highly dangerous individual detected—Nightmare Witch Karya!]

[Host, evade immediately. Avoid all contact and conflict! Ensure your own safety!]

Staring at this sudden, intrusive system, Roland was silent for a long while before turning to look at the other side of the fire, where a girl was devouring what should have been his dinner with the vengeance of retribution.

This girl, delicate in appearance yet utterly disheveled, was wholly absorbed by the most primal of human desires—eating. She paid no attention as locks of hair, as lovely as cornflowers, fell across her forehead and became streaked with fish soup.

Roland was genuinely afraid she would choke from wolfing down her food so quickly.

Even though a large, glaring red name floated above her head—Nightmare Witch Karya—Roland could not muster much vigilance toward her. Her demeanor was far too relaxed, devoid of any trace of the threat the system described. Rather than a dangerous figure, she resembled nothing so much as a starving stray cat, who, once fed, cared for nothing else but the meal before her.

Most importantly, Roland was beginning to suspect this system was far from reliable.

— — —

The Port City of Ryscan.

The coastal hub of the Hurst Empire, its largest port, and a vital junction on the empire’s arcane railway network.

An hour ago, Roland had left the city, intending, as usual, to practice magic in this small forest on the outskirts.

At least up until an hour ago, all had been ordinary within the city. This damp and bustling metropolis by the sea had not changed in the sixteen years since Roland’s birth and life here. Crowds thronged the streets, merchant caravans packed the roads—which had already been widened three times—and the cries of hawkers in the market never ceased.

By no stretch of the imagination could “plague-ridden city” be applied to this place.

Suddenly remembering something, Roland asked the system in his mind, “System, tell me today’s date.”

[Today is Imperial Year 1039, December 12th. Host, please proceed with caution.]

“Today is December 5th, 1029. System, are you functioning properly?”

[Correction: Today is Imperial Year 1039, December 12th. Host is currently outside Ryscan. Please ensure your safety and begin your mission promptly.]

“But it’s clearly December 5th, 1029!”

[Correction: System time is Imperial Year 1039, December 12th. Please do not question the accuracy of the system.]

Your so-called accuracy is nonsense!

Deep breaths, deep breaths... Stay calm, don’t argue with a fool.

Roland repeated this mantra to himself, then asked, “Do you have any information on the plague-ridden city? At least tell me how it became that way.”

[Ding, compiling data...]

[On December 12th, 1029 of the Imperial Calendar, a deadly, unknown plague erupted in the port city of Ryscan, turning the entire metropolis into a city of the dead overnight.]

[The Imperial Army acted immediately, sealing off Ryscan and neighboring towns to prevent the strange plague from spreading. However, the once-prosperous southern coast of the Empire became a forbidden zone.]

[The details, causes, and specifics of the disaster have never been released by the Imperial Inspectorate. They have, however, issued a warrant for the person they claim is responsible: Nightmare Witch Karya.]

After a moment’s silence, overwhelmed by the flood of information from the system, Roland finally muttered, “...You’re useless; go be useless somewhere else.”

[Understood. Should you have questions, this system is always at your service.]

A few questions in, and Roland realized one thing.

This system had probably activated ten years too early—and was not particularly bright, either.

— — —

A fit of violent coughing suddenly interrupted Roland’s thoughts.

Turning, he saw the witch—marked with a red name and soon to be wanted by the Empire—choking badly on her soup, having gulped it down too hastily. The fish broth she’d just swallowed was now being forcefully expelled onto the grass at her feet.

Her amber eyes were wide and streaming as she coughed and gasped for breath, looking for all the world like a comic spectacle.

“Slow down, there’s plenty more in the pot,” Roland said, a little helplessly. He gently patted her back and handed over the last piece of bread he’d brought.

Karya shot Roland a grateful look, then, without a word, took the bread and began to eat it with her soup.

How long had it been since this girl last ate?

Roland was genuinely curious about her plight.

In this world where magic existed, a “witch” was a being entirely distinct from ordinary people—or, more accurately, “witch” was simply the common term for them. In academic circles, they were known as “innate spellcasters”—those born with the knowledge and ability to wield magic.

Of course, these abilities only awakened when the individual turned sixteen. Before that, witches were no different from anyone else.

But once awakened, their power was equivalent to that of a third-circle mage... Even taking a few quests from the Adventurers’ Guild should be enough to avoid starving like this.

Roland himself was only a second-circle mage, and already he could take on well-paid commissions. He wasn’t rich, but his daily expenses were more than covered.

And judging by her appearance and build, she was definitely past sixteen...

Never mind, now was not the time for such thoughts.

If the system’s information was correct, then in seven days, Ryscan would become a city of the dead.

And any plague capable of turning a bustling metropolis into a graveyard overnight, sealing off the entire southern coast of the Empire as a forbidden zone—could it really be called just a “plague”?