MTL - I Will Be The Crowned King-Chapter 1 damn man

"Cough... In short... I seem to have... crossed."

Coughing, Anson, who was forcefully calm, muttered to himself.

Although he is still very nervous and frightened, he only vaguely remembers that his head hurt when he fell asleep, and he doesn't know who provoked whom, and what supernatural phenomenon happened...

But he just passed through!

This inexplicable memory, this uniform, this appearance... even the body is not the original one!

Desperately suppressing his trembling body, An Sen's eyes were fixed on the "mirror" in his hand - a sterling silver trim, a nameplate engraved with his name and coat of arms, and the reflective mirror could barely see his face and figure.

Black hair and brown eyes, fair complexion, a little thin, and looks like a musician.

His nervous eyes lowered slightly and fell on the string of names; it was by no means any kind of symbol, word or letter in his memory, but he just recognized it:

Anson Bach.

Well, it's more like a musician... Anson wanted to laugh, but he couldn't.

The suffix of the name is three overlapping rings, one up and two down, which in my memory belongs to a sign called "Order Church".

Taking a deep breath, Anson put the nameplate on the left chest of the uniform again. In front of him was a spliced ​​wooden table. The overturned ink bottle filled two-thirds with dark black ink, and the stack of booklets piled in the corner of the table was soaked.

Even the uniform on his body had large ink stains, soaking the sleeves, only the diary that was spread out in the middle of the wooden table was spared.

The scribbled words were written on two sides of the paper—that was the memory of "not his own" that he desperately wrote down at the moment when he realized that he had crossed over!

An indescribable amount of information and countless pieces of memory poured into my mind; in order to identify the memories of the two lives and to quickly understand the current situation, I instinctively picked up the "professionalism" that I used as a copywriter to write a plan in my previous life.

Anson Bach, born in the rural village of the central province of the Clovis Kingdom, a low-rank aristocrat, a captain and officer of the Kingdom's army, and a believer of the Church of Order;

At the age of 12, he went to the Wangdu Mission College for further studies. At the age of 16, he was found to have "special talents" and entered the Royal Military Academy for further studies. The following year, he was awarded the rank of trainee lieutenant;

After four years of study, he was promoted to lieutenant with honors and was sent to the southern fortress for "training" for one year;

In addition, while in the army, he was "suspected" of joining a shady, heretical wizarding organization...

Looking at what he had written down in the diary, Anson felt that the corners of his mouth were twitching.

He casually flipped through the diary along with some memory fragments. It was full of content about an underground organization called the "Old God Sect", as well as the constantly changing thoughts of "self" in various "shocks".

"True God", "Magic", "The Truth of History", "Origin of Bloodline", "Era of Change"... This body with the same name as himself did not panic at all because it was inadvertently involved in something that should not be touched, and It is clear that once his behavior is exposed, what a tragic end awaits him.

On the contrary, in the diary, the excitement can almost overflow from the words, and similar emotions can be felt in the fragments of memory.

This silly boy... He is obviously a serious person, so what kind of diary does he have to write?

He even wrote all his thoughts in his diary!

Coughing twice, Anson sighed heavily.

The "former owner" of this body was supposed to join the kingdom's army as a graduate of the military academy and a captain officer after the "internship period" in the southern fortress ended.

If he is lucky, he may be able to stay in the academy or enter the logistics department, and his future will be bright; if it is worse, his "amateur interest" will be exposed, and he will be caught and executed as a heretic.

In my memory, the execution method of this "Church of Order" was quite unique. It was neither shot nor staked, but tied to the exhaust valve of the steam engine, steamed and sent to heaven...

Anson shuddered.

After figuring out the origin, the next step is the current situation; Anson looked around - sitting in a tent with a bed behind him, a military bag under the wooden table, a few books and cutlery, an officer's saber leaning against the table Horn.

He took a deep breath. The tip of his nose and mouth were dusty, and the morning mist mixed with gunpowder and gunpowder made the already uncomfortable throat feel even more.

In the ninety-ninth year of the Saint Calendar, the Herid Empire declared war on the grounds of border disputes, and at the same time invaded the Kingdom of Clovis from three directions: the west, the north, and the southwest.

"Ansen Bach", who was returning as planned, got bad news the next day after setting off. The necessary place to go north, Thunder Fort - a military station, a warehouse plus a fortress - was raided, and immediately fell, and was attacked by a small army of the Herid Empire. occupied.

Then he "actively joined" an army that was quickly dispatched to retake the fortress, and became the "supervisory adjutant" of the "First Infantry Regiment of the 1st Levy of Fort Thunder".

This is the battlefield, and I am staying in the siege camp outside the Thunder Fortress.

But it's very strange: this is a barracks with thousands of soldiers stationed, crowded to the point of overflowing, but the surrounding is surprisingly quiet; horses' hoofs, steps, shouts, guns... There is no sound, except for the faint sound of rumbling cannons in the distance, dead silence like a tomb.

Why?

Holding on to his uncomfortable throat, Anson shook his head and put his doubts behind him.

Now I'm not in the mood to care about these external affairs. The most important thing right now is to deal with a bunch of information that suddenly popped up in my mind - adapting to a new identity, figuring out what happened to this body when I crossed, his network of connections, and how to solve the diary That "hobby"...it takes time.

Anyway, my side is the one who is attacking the city, so I don't need to be afraid of the enemy's attack; I'm just a small infantry regiment commander-in-chief, just obey orders when the battle begins.

It's not like he has just crossed over, he has to carry a gun and go to the battlefield, right?

"Well, it's not that...cough, cough..."

Comforting himself who was still nervous, An Sen, who calmed down as much as possible, decided to go to the barracks outside; interacting with as many people as possible would help him adapt to his "new identity".

In case of any mistakes, it is convenient for oneself to find excuses to cover up when there are many people talking.

Keep calm and don't panic. The identity of an officer is the best cover, and ordinary soldiers will not question themselves; as a regiment adjutant, it is easier to arouse suspicion by hiding in the tent and "playing missing".

Holding the table to get up, UU Reading www.uukanshu.com An Sen closed the terrifying diary, thinking about where to hide it; it is definitely safest to carry it with you, but in case you are not careful...

"Um?"

Staring at the cover of the diary with astonished eyes, it was obvious that the dark red dyed in it was definitely not the color of ink, and it was more viscous than ink...

Bloodstains? !

Anson, who vaguely guessed something, subconsciously looked down at the uniform on his body—the winter uniform of the Clovis Kingdom standard officer. It was black like the ink, but he could still detect a little blood red on it.

"This...cough...cough...cough...cough!"

He coughed violently, and an unknown object "taken the opportunity" rushed out of his throat and fell on the diary.

The moment his eyes landed on it, An Sen's pupils shrank suddenly.

It was a small piece of buckshot that could not be found when it fell on the ground.

Myself...the owner of this body...what happened?

In the quiet tent, An Sen, who was terrified, swallowed his throat, which was still aching.

Suicide by gunshot? No, no... I couldn't find the slightest motive in my memory and diary.

He glanced at the pistol at his waist, the leather holster was fastened to the handle; he wouldn't commit suicide, and he could still think of putting it back intact.

It's not suicide, it can only be silenced... In a heavily guarded barracks with live ammunition everywhere, an officer was shot and killed...

Cold sweat ran across An Sen's temples, and suddenly, he felt that the dead silence outside was unparalleled terror!

Even if someone rushed in immediately to kill him, it would make him ten thousand times more at ease than now!

"Pfft!"

The sudden sound made Ansen turn his head sharply, and a figure rushed into the tent!