"Look, everyone! It’s the Saint!"
"He has come to bless us!"
"Oh Saint Luther, please guide us in our endeavor!"
"We are blessed by the Saint’s presence!"
Voices erupted from all sides like blaring trumpets, each praise louder than the last.
The crowd pressed together, hands raised high toward the passing carriage as if basking in holy light. The carriage itself was a marvel pure white with golden flower motifs etched into its wheels and body. One glance was enough to tell: whoever sat inside was no ordinary man. The gold was real.
Children giggled and chased after the wheels. Confetti rained down. And then, the star of the parade finally appeared.
A hand waved gracefully from the carriage window. Inside, dressed immaculately in white and black garments trimmed with gold, sat Luther. His posture was stiff, his smile tighter than a locked chest.
"Thank you, thank you," he called.
"May the blessings of my father, Asmethan, be upon you all."
Meanwhile, Luther’s mind was screaming:
Oh, for fuck’s sake! Can’t this damn carriage move any faster? How long do they expect me to wave ? My arm’s about to fall off!
His smile twitched, but he kept it plastered on. Finally mercifully the carriage cleared the last of the crowd and rolled into the forest path.
The moment the final face disappeared from view, Luther slammed the window shut.
The driver jolted as the horses huffed nervously. Inside, Luther was seething, cycling through every curse word he knew but biting his tongue. After all, he wasn’t alone.
Across from him sat two intimidating figures:
Aithur Rian, the navy haired Duke, dressed in full regalia, a sapphire gem glowing faintly on his glove.
Liliana Fiorie, clad in crimson armor, her face hidden beneath her helm, one hand resting on the hilt of her ruby inlaid sword.
"What?" Luther snapped, glaring.
Arthur smirked. "You’re the proclaimed savior of the world. A little praise from the people should be nothing new."
The sapphire flickered as if echoing his words.
Luther’s scowl deepened. "Proclaimed savior, huh? If you love the word so much, why don’t you ask your damned God to hand you the title? Because I sure as hell don’t want it."
He yanked off his Saints cap and tossed it. Liliana snatched it midair, slid it into a bag, and spoke coolly.
"Hate it all you want. But your hatred will never compare to ours."
Her gauntlet clenched around her sword, ruby gem pulsing like a warning.
Luther rolled his eyes and slumped against the window. The sun was sinking low, casting long orange beams through the trees. His mood soured further.
He finally snapped, stuck his head out the window, and screamed:
"ALL YOU DAMN BIRDS SHUT UP!"
The forest fell silent.
Luther sighed in relief, closing his eyes to savor the breeze ruffling his hair.
An arrow whizzed past and buried itself in the wood where his head had been. Luther froze.
Before he could react, Liliana yanked him back by the arm. Aithur raised a hand, a shimmering barrier sparking to life around them.
The world flipped. The carriage exploded from underneath, flipping end over end before crashing against a tree. Wood splintered, horses screamed and bolted, and the driver lay lifeless among the wreckage.
Figures cloaked in black dropped from the treeline like carrion crows.
"Did you hit him?" one asked.
"As if I ever miss!" sneered another.
"You miss all the time. But whatever. think that did it?"
The door tore free of its hinges, and two figures leapt out: Aithur landing with the grace of a predator, and Liliana with Luther slung safely in her arms.
Arthur didn’t waste words. He vanished, reappeared in front of the nearest assassin, and kicked him so hard his body crumpled into the trees. The Duke reappeared casually at Liliana’s side, brushing ash from his shoulder.
"Hmph. A bomb like that, and you thought you’d kill us?"
Liliana set Luther down, bowed slightly to him, and drew her blade.
Meanwhile, Luther was inching backward. Okay. Nope. None of this has anything to do with me. I’ll just... quietly leave.
A red shimmer flared. A barrier snapped around him like a cage.
"Seriously?" he muttered, glaring at Liliana. She only lowered her visor.
With a resigned groan, Luther sat cross-legged on the ground.
"Fine. You psychos have fun."
The assassins regrouped, helping their battered leader to his feet.
"I don’t care about the damn orders anymore!" he roared. "KILL THEM ALL!"
The black clad figures swarmed like bats. The forest air grew tense, heavy.
A bolt of lightning ripped the night sky, hurling half the attackers backward. Aithur stood grinning wickedly, sapphire gem blazing.
Of course he’s enjoying this. Lunatic Duke, indeed, Luther thought, munching on a bag of biscuits he’d looted from the dead driver.
Liliana’s ruby gem pulsed. Without a word, she dashed forward. One swing, five bodies fell. She dodged a knife, launched herself high, then dropped like a meteor. The impact sent shockwaves through the ground, scattering foes like leaves.
She rested her sword on her shoulder, silent but deadly.
Luther groaned. They’re competing, aren’t they?
Seriously... In all my life, what sin did I commit to end up stuck here? Did I piss off a god or something?
Oh. Right. Maybe I did. But hey. The novel was trash!
He tossed the empty snack wrapper aside and sighed.
How could the author even call this a "good story"? Even the comment section hated it!
My name is Luther Isan...
Oh wait, sorry. I mean, my real name is...
...Huh. Check latest chapters at novel fire.net
What is my real name again?
Okay, enough! Let’s just go ahead.
I was a graduate student who had just turned twenty three. I lived in a rundown house my grandma left me before she... well, left.
And yes, like most transmigrated stories, surprise, surprise I’m an orphan.
No, my parents didn’t die tragically in a fire, nor were they murdered by a shadowy assassin. They didn’t even abandon me dramatically on a rainy night.
Truth is, I never even knew them. I grew up with my grandma, and she never talked about them. So yeah, not my problem.
Anyway, back to the point.
I’m twenty three, a graduate, yadda yadda. you don’t need my full life story. What you do need to know is I’ve been fired from basically ten jobs since college.
Barbecue restaurant worker? Fired.
Karaoke bar staff? Fired.
Hotel staff, chef, cake baker, taxi driver. you name it, I got the boot.
Always within two months.
At first, I thought it was bad luck. But after the eighth time? Nah. Clearly, the gods just hated me.
But hey, I hated them too. So it was a kind of mutual thing.
Anyway, picture this: a guy with brown hair, in a wrinkled corporate suit, walking out of a building. That’s me, after my eleventh rejection.
Was I angry? Absolutely. Mad that they didn’t even give me a chance? Of course. But after so many failed attempts, I gave up and buried myself in novels.
Because novels aren’t reality. In novels, you can hope, pray, and dream about being in the protagonist’s shoes.
CONTINUE DREAMING, IDIOT.
... And yeah, I was one of those idiots. Which brings us to the present event.
A fist smashed onto the kitchen table.
"WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH THIS AUTHOR!" I shouted.
The kettle on the stove was boiling nicely, with vegetables and ingredients scattered across the counter. I had clearly been cooking, but right now, rage was priority number one.
"WHY WRITE SUCH A NOVEL IF YOU’RE GOING TO END IT ?!"
I looked like a lunatic.
"All those Chapters! Thirteen hundred and fifty Chapters! And for what? For it to crash into a wall at the end?!"
I pointed at my screen like it had personally betrayed me.
"What do you mean the protagonists don’t end up together?! After all the trials, the banter, the ’I’ll protect you with my life,’ the ’you’re the only one I see’? Even that stupid prophecy that never came true!"
"And then... what? The Duke, Aithur, who spent all that time taunting Liliana, suddenly has a secret lover outside the kingdom? Since when?! Where the hell did she even come from?! Did she just spawn out of thin air like an NPC glitch?!"
I slammed the table again.
"And Liliana ends up with that useless excuse of a Crown Prince? The guy’s so lazy he probably forgets which way his crown goes on!"
I dragged my hands down my face, fuming.
"I curse you... I CURSE YOU, AUTHOR!" I jumped to my feet, veins popping on my forehead. "For wasting my time , I hope you rot for all eternity!"
In my rage, I didn’t notice my kettle wobbling dangerously close to the edge of the stove. I grabbed my jacket, still ranting about skinning the author alive, when.
I fell flat on my face.
"Ugh... Damn it, I’m so pissed..."
The kettle was teetering on the edge.