Swoosh!
Aurelian's steel blade cut through the air.
Swoosh!!
He sidestepped and swung again, faster this time.
Whoosh!!
The motion flowed into a sharp finishing thrust.
[Ding! Level 4 Reached!!]
[Ding! Daily Quest Completed!]
[Reincarnator gained 250 EXP!]
[Ding! New Daily Quest Available.]
[Daily Quest:
• 300 Sword Thrusts (0/300)]
Rewards: +150 EXP
[Note:
Failure to complete this quest will not result in punishment. However, it is in the reincarnator's best interest to level up as quickly as possible in order to complete the reincarnation quest before death in this world.]
[Quest Locked – Available Tomorrow]
Panting, Aurelian stared at the translucent screen, his hand tightening around the hilt of his blade. Level four.
He exhaled slowly. Reaching level ten before the three months were up now felt possible. When the king began recruiting troops, he needed to be ready.
Level ten was crucial. That was when he would unlock [Assimilate], the skill the system itself described as his golden finger. Without it, completing the reincarnation quest would be far harder.
Sweat rolled down his back. He planned to prepare his bath, but before that, he decided to review his status.
With a flick of his arm, a translucent blue panel appeared in front of him.
[Reincarnator System]
Name: Aurelian Knox
Level: 4 (230/400)
Class: Legendary Paladin
Title: None
HP: 240/240
Aether: 160/160
As expected, both his HP and Aether had increased again. Every level granted five attribute points, and he didn't use the other five from when he reached level 3, and now with the five from his level 4 ascension, he had a total of ten to spend, and he's going to allocate them all today.
...
Strength: 20↠22
Increases physical attack power
Stamina: 12↠16
Increases endurance and recovery
Agility: 11↠13
Increases attack speed and movement speed
Intelligence: 11↠12
Increases magical damage and aether capacity
Constitution: 14↠15
Increases HP, defense, and resistance
Charisma: 18
Affects leadership, persuasion, divine favor
Luck: 11
Affects encounters, and chance-based outcomes
Attribute Points Available: 10
...
Looking at these attributes, Aurelian didn't hesitate and went with the Intelligence stat first.
In this world, strength alone wasn't enough. Aether control, arcane scaling, and long-term growth all relied on intelligence. His class leaned toward divine techniques, and wasting that advantage would be foolish.
He allocated four points to his intelligence stat, taking it from 12 to 16.
Luck came next.
He had ignored it since the beginning, and that alone felt dangerous. Encounters, survival chances, and unexpected opportunities often hinged on luck. In a world ruled by gods and fate, neglecting it was asking for trouble.
Another four points went in, raising it from 11 to 15.
That left two.
He placed both into constitution, because an increased health, resistance, and survivability is still a vital attribute especially when you're headed for a warzone.
With that, the panel updated.
Strength: 20 → 22
Stamina: 12 → 16
Agility: 11 → 13
Intelligence: 12 → 16
Constitution: 15 → 17
Charisma: 18
Luck: 11 → 15
Attribute Points Available: 0
Satisfied, Aurelian dismissed the panel.
That was when the door creaked open.
Thaleia stepped inside quietly, already holding a towel. Without a word, she walked up to him and gently wiped the sweat from his face. She wasn't hesitant, and moved like a wife tending to her husband.
"You'll catch a chill if you stay like this," she said softly.
She turned and headed toward the bathing room. "I'll prepare the water."
Before he could respond, she added, "Also, I've arranged a carriage for you. And the driver charges eight silver for the ride to Gasok. "
Aurelian paused, then nodded. "That's reasonable. Once I'm done bathing, I'll get ready and leave for Gasok."
"Good," she said with a small smile. "I'll choose something suitable for you to wear, befitting a man of Athens."
As Aurelian stepped into the bath, the warm water easing the tension from his muscles, the focus shifted back to Thaleia as she opened his wardrobe.
And frowned.
Most of his clothes were simple.amd practical. Worn from his constant training and daily work. A few tunics, sturdy but plain. No fine cloaks. No embroidered hems. Nothing that spoke of someone from the great city of Athens.
Her brows knitted together.
"A man living in Athens should own better than this," she muttered.
She sifted through the garments again, hoping she had missed something. She hadn't.
This made things harder. Her father was not an easy man to impress, and appearances mattered. A lot. A suitor who looked poor, no matter how honest, would already be judged.
Thaleia pressed her lips together, thinking.
She selected the cleanest tunic, one with the least wear, then paired it with a belt that at least gave him a sharper silhouette. It wasn't luxurious, but it was respectable. She would make it work.
As she folded the clothes carefully, she couldn't help but smile. The way she treated Aurelian filled her with joy, the kind of joy a wife feels when carrying out her duties toward her husband.
Then with that, Aurelian emerged from the bath, his skin still radiating the heat of the water. Thaleia met him with the clothes she had prepared. She helped him dress, pulling the tunic tight and smoothing the wrinkles over his shoulders. When she finally stepped back to admire her work, she nodded with approval.
"You look good "she said, though they both knew the fabric was simple. "Gasok is a long journey. The carriage is currently waiting outside."
They then walked to the front of the house together, as an ochema stood in the dirt path. It was a sturdy vehicle, pulled by two horses that looked well-fed. The driver sat up front, gripping the reins, as the back of the ochema featured two long benches facing each other, cushioned with stuffed leather.
Aurelian turned to Thaleia. He was going to Gasok to secure the gifts required to officially ask for her hand. It was the first real step toward a life he hadn't expected to have in this world.
Thaleia didn't wait for him to speak. She quickly stepped into his space and wrapped her arms tightly around his neck. She pressed her body against his, her warmth seeping through his tunic. It was a long, firm hug that left little to the imagination. She buried her face in the crook of his neck, inhaling deeply. Her grip was desperate and possessive, the kind of embrace that promised she would be waiting right there until the moment he returned.
"Return quickly," she whispered against his skin.
She then pulled away slowly, her eyes tracing his face before she finally let go. Aurelian cleared his throat, feeling a sudden rush of heat that had nothing to do with his recent bath.
Now done with their goodbyes, Aurelian entered the back of the carriage and settled onto the cushioned seat, he then realized he wasn't alone. Sitting on the opposite bench was a young man. He looked to be about twenty-five years old, dressed in a pale chiton that looked expensive. He had curly dark hair and a sharp, clean-shaven jawline. He didn't look up immediately; his eyes were fixed on the book in his hands.
"I am Lysander," the young man said without looking up.
"Aurelian," he replied.
The carriage lurched forward. The wheels began to churn through the dirt, and the house—and Thaleia—slowly faded into the distance. Aurelian watched her through the small window until she was a speck on the horizon.
Lysander finally closed his book, marking his place with a finger. "Headed to Gasok for business? Or pleasure?"
"A bit of both," Aurelian said. "I'm heading there to settle some arrangements for a marriage proposal."
Lysander chuckled. "Marriage. A noble pursuit, I suppose. Though, according to the text I am currently consuming, you are merely a slave to your biology. A puppet dancing on the strings of your own urges."
Aurelian glanced at the book. The title was: The Primal Pulse: A Study of Hedonic Necessity.
"It's a new movement out of Athens," Lysander explained, leaning back. "A group of thinkers who believe the old virtues are a lie. They call it 'Cyprianism.' It focuses on the core of man. Not women—they are seen as the recipients—but men. It posits that we are driven by a singular, overwhelming desire for sexual fulfillment. Everything else—war, art, trade—is just a side effect of that hunger. We reproduce not because we want children, but because the pleasure is so intense it forces the hand of nature."
"Sounds like a convenient excuse for bad behavior," Aurelian remarked.
Lysander grinned. "Or a liberating truth. Here, see for yourself. Most men find it... enlightening. Or at least, it makes them feel better about their late-night wandering."
He tossed the book across the gap, as Aurelian caught it. He then flipped it open to a random page in the middle. His eyes landed on a passage, and he began to read.
'Man is a vessel of constant, pressurized fluid, seeking the smallest crack in the dam of morality to burst forth. To deny the urge to couple is to deny the sun the right to shine. When a man gazes upon the curvature of a hip, he is not seeing a person; he is seeing a biological destination. His loins are a compass, and the north star is always found beneath a skirt. It is not sin; it is nature.'
Aurelian blinked. 'This guy sounds like he hasn't seen a woman in three years and has spent most of that time staring at a goat.'
Aurelian began to chuckle inwardly, as he quickly classified this book as peak male virgin content. Couple? Who uses that word to refer sex?? And loins? Crazy word to use instead of....
'Are there this much incels in Athens??'
He then flipped to another page, curious if it stayed that intense.
'Consider the phallus not as an organ, but as a sentient part of your body. It possesses a mind that ignores the logic of the brain. The brain says, "I have a meeting with the Senate," but the loins say, "There is a tavern wench with a sturdy frame three blocks away." The loins always win because the loins provide the seed of the future. The Senate provides only taxes. Therefore, to be a true philosopher is to be a frequent lover.'
'Is this what they're teaching in Athens now?' Aurelian thought, a dry smile forming on his lips. 'If I followed this logic, I wouldn't be paying for a ride to Gasok; I'd be trying to seduce the carriage driver to save on the eight silver.' He turned several more pages, stopping near the back.
'The male urge is a roaring lion trapped in a cage of silk. It paws at the bars of decorum, screaming for the release of its primal burden. Women are the landscape through which the lion roams. Without the lion's hunger, the world would be a silent, empty desert. Every Great Wall built, every empire forged, was simply a man trying to impress someone enough to let him take off his sandals and get to business.'
'This is reaching levels of desperation I didn't think possible in written form,' Aurelian noted. 'I can almost smell the sweat and frustration coming off the ink. This author needs a cold bucket of water and a long walk in the rain.' He flipped one last time, landing on a paragraph near the conclusion.
'We must accept that we are but servants to the itch that cannot be scratched by hand alone. The pursuit of the ultimate climax is the pursuit of the divine. When a man reaches that peak, he is briefly a god, before he realizes he has to get up and find his pants.'
Aurelian closed the book with a soft thud. He handed it back to Lysander, who was watching him with an expectant, knowing smirk.
"Well?" Lysander asked. "Does it resonate with your soul?"
Aurelian looked out the window at the passing trees. "It certainly explains the origin of the incel's culture."
"Incels??? Who are they?" Lysander asked.
Aurelian briefly forgot he wasn't in his previous world, where such words were common. "Forget I ever said that."
Lysander laughed, tucking the book back into his cloak. "If you put it like that, it's rather difficult to forget. You've piqued my curiosity about the word. But anyway, Aurelian, you'll find many practitioners of this book's philosophy in Gasok, though most of them can't read."
"I'll keep my eyes open," Aurelian said.
As the carriage continued its steady pace. The road ahead to Gasok would be a long one, taking not less than three days.