“No, now’s not the time to rest.”

After Anne left, Muen suddenly flipped upright and sat up from the bed. Ignoring the lingering weakness in his body, he moved to the desk nearby.

Following the memories in his head, he reached into a drawer and pulled out a blank sheet of paper, then grabbed a quill and dipped it into ink.

“The story’s already completely deviated from the original novel. Which means, from here on out, I have no idea what’s coming.”

“The original novel’s no longer of any use. I have to rely on myself now.”

“First, I need to set my objectives.”

Muen pinched his chin in thought, then began writing in halfway-decent penmanship on the blank page.

1. Stay alive.

2. Avoid the ‘Death by a Thousand Cuts’ ending.

3. Get stronger.

“These are my three objectives for now.”

Staying alive went without saying. He was, for all intents and purposes, a man who’d already died twice. To this day, he still hadn’t shaken the fear of death.

Even if this world was aggressively unfriendly to him, the yellow-haired villain, he still wanted to live. Seriously live.

“Next is that ending I saw in the prophetic dream...”

Now that the destruction ending had completely fallen apart, the worldline seemed all but fated to head toward the one where he gets carved up like roast duck.

But—

Muen hesitated for a moment, then picked the pen back up and added a few notes under the second objective:

→ Didn’t apologize to the protagonist—might not trigger the ending.

→ Apology theory is just speculation from mysterious guy in dream—not a confirmed condition. Worldline may already be diverging from the ‘thousand cuts’ route.

→ Black Book is unreliable.

“......”

He stared at the last line, then crossed it out.

He didn’t dare bet on it.

“So basically, I’m stuck in Schrödinger’s death-by-a-thousand-cuts scenario?”

The more he thought, the more his head throbbed.

“Ugh, this is pointless. I don’t have enough information. No matter how much I think, it’s just groping in the dark.”

The root of the problem was the Black Book’s so-called prophetic dream. It had been too vague, and no follow-up hints had appeared.

Muen didn’t even know if the prophecy was fixed—something inevitable no matter what he did—or if it could shift based on his actions.

“Forget it. No use overthinking it. Right now, I should focus on the most immediate goal.”

His eyes landed on the third objective.

Get stronger.

That was the single most urgent task right now.

Even if this world was hostile to a yellow-haired villain like him, it was still, at its core, a magic-fantasy world where power reigned supreme.

Strength was survival.

Without strength, you ended up like before—staring death in the face with no option but to trade your life for someone else’s.

“And most importantly...”

Muen ground his teeth, face twisting in frustration.

“I am never— and I mean NEVER—getting pinned down and ravaged by a woman again!”

His mind flashed back to the memory of being thoroughly dominated by Celicia. Sure, physically, it had felt pretty damn good... but his pride as a man? In absolute shambles.

Even if it was Celicia—no, especially because it was Celicia!

...

...

“As for how to get stronger... being a duke’s son, I’ve got more options than I can count. Problem is, they’re all way too conventional to bridge the gap with the main cast.”

The original Muen had wasted far too much time. He’d spent a whole year at Saint Maria’s Magic Academy and yet the only spell Muen could recall right now was a basic illumination charm.

“Are you kidding me? Did that guy just sleep through every single class?”

How the hell do you even fall asleep at this point in the timeline?!

Muen wanted nothing more than to time-travel back just to slap his past self—Muen goddamn Campbell—straight into next week. Maybe then he’d learn what it felt like to get reality-checked.

“Thankfully, this body’s physical stats aren’t too bad. About late-stage First Tier.”

...

In this world, the power system was a little convoluted.

But broadly speaking, it broke down into:

Warrior path: physical fighters who trained in battle aura.

Mage path: magic users who cultivated mana.

Faith path: clergy who exchanged belief for divine power.

Favored by the gods: those born under divine attention and given blessings.

Leaving aside the innately gifted god-favored, the first three were the standard options. Sure, there were many offshoots and hybrids—but those weren’t even on Muen’s radar.

Take that assassin for example—he’d performed a sacrificial prayer to a dark god, offering tribute in exchange for power. That made him a Dark Priest.

That’s one of the fringe paths: a shortcut to strength. But it’s a deal with a devil—Dark Priests don’t tend to end well.

Technically speaking, a Dark Priest is just a variant of a Cleric—only they worship evil gods instead of righteous ones.

...

At first glance, the system didn’t seem too complicated. In fact, for the sake of clarity and memorization, every power path was divided into Tiers One through Five—at least up until the Crowned Rank.

The names varied slightly:

Tier One Warrior: Body Tempering

Tier One Mage: Quicksilver

But those were just labels. Functionally, the difference wasn’t that huge.

So then why was the system considered complicated?

Two main reasons:

First: nothing said that the soft, holy-light-casting priest girl couldn’t secretly be a physical powerhouse who smashes dragons to death with the holy scriptures.

Nothing said that the frail-looking mage who’s pew-pew-pewing from the backline couldn’t suddenly pull out a club twice your size and beat your skull in.

Exactly—there isn’t just one path. And people can walk more than one.

That assassin, for instance? Not only did he show off at least Tier Three martial skills, he also used gravity magic and finally revealed himself to be a damn Dark Priest on top of it!

Put simply: power level alone doesn’t tell the full story. You never know how far someone’s progressed down a second path.

Second reason: external factors.

This world had gods.

Righteous gods, evil gods, demonic gods—countless beings of absurd power.

Aside from granting powers through faith, these gods loved nothing more than picking favorites and throwing divine blessings at them.

That’s where God-Favored came in.

Basically, the author’s way of handing out official cheat codes.

Celicia, for example? She had the blessing of the Goddess of Ice and Snow.

The protagonist? By the late stages of the novel, she was collecting divine blessings in the double digits—basically friends with every god in existence. Gender-swapped Son Goku, calling in divine favors like it’s Tuesday.

And the number of gods doesn’t even matter that much. For some reason, they can’t directly interfere with the mortal realm—at best, they can project a sliver of power.

The real problem is, nobody knows what kind of people the gods favor. Blessings don’t have visible effects until activated. Meaning that beggar you just pissed off in the alley might whip out a divine nuke and blast you to kingdom come.