“Back off, kid. This is none of your fucking business.” A man in black t-shirt and jeans with slicked-back hair warned me menacingly.

“Never said it was. I was just wondering if I can help you guys resolve this understanding like a good samaritan.” I replied in a faux-cheerful tone.

“I don’t need none of that either. This is a private conversation between me and this girl. Now scram!” He pulled out a switchblade from his back pocket to emphasize his point.

This greaser-wannabe was clearly a pervert trying to kidnap this petite blonde girl about my age. Now, I wished I could judo flip this scumbag into the trash can, but fun fact: not every Asian-American knows how to fight. Fortunately, I didn’t need to play the martial arts hero. Behind him, I saw a group of 5 teenagers rushing here, probably for her. So all I’ve gotta do is stall.

“Great! In that case, maybe you can help me since you seem to know your way around here. Do you know where Fajardo Middle School is? It’s my first day there and I’m really lost.” I asked in a really loud jolly voice.

“I ain’t got no time for you, kid. Go look that shit up on your phone! Now scram before I-”

Purvy greaser went down like a sack of potatoes as one of the teenagers sucker punched him right in the head with a vicious right hook. The other 4 caught up and landed kicks on the guy for good measure.

“Wendy! How many times do I have to warn you? Don’t walk to school alone!” A slender woman with brunette hair chastised her sister(?)

Strangely, Wendy seemed unconcerned about this whole thing. “I would’ve been fine anyways.” She then points to me. “See, good people like this guy will help me.” She sweetly smiled at me. Wow, she’s so cool under pressure… like a pretty flower standing proudly in the middle of a raging hurricane.

“Don’t count on being so lucky next time. You know how scummy Tom’s friends are. Be careful out there!” One of them shot back.

“Hey kid, thanks for helping out our airhead sister. We owe you one.”

“It’s nothing. I honestly was lost though. Do you guys know where the middle school is?” I replied.

“I’ve got an idea. Wendy goes there too. So why don’t you walk with Wendy? I’d feel a lot better if anybody was with her.”

“Sure. It beats having to keep asking strangers for directions.” I casually replied. “Shall we go, Wendy?”

She smiled back at me. “Sure! What’s your name?”

“Ronnie.” I answered back as we walked away.

“I like it. Sounds like a name a reliable guy should have.” She decided.

“I got lost looking for a middle school.” I drily retorted.

Wendy casually waves her dainty hand in response. “I blame your parents for that. Even my white trash foster parents managed to walk me there on my first day.”

“Eh, my parents work from morning to midnight. And I’m an only child.”

“Still, it’s no excuse. Parents should at least do that much for their kids.”

“My mom told me that when she was my age, she had to walk 3 miles in the snow uphill to school. So I had it easy.” At the end of the day, Mom simply expected me to be smart enough to figure things out by myself. “So all of those people back there are…”

“Yup! My brothers and sister! They’re in the same shitty boat I’m in.”

“Sorry to hear about that.”

“Actually, it’s not so bad. Being in a big family of 15 kids is actually really great. It’s a fun community where the older ones look out for us and all the kids share everything despite not sharing a single drop of blood. I love this warm feeling of being so close to this many people. If our parents weren’t welfare cheating losers who only adopted us for the money, I’d say it’s the best home in the world!” She smiled as she casually mentioned her mess-ed up home life.

Warmth, huh? I wouldn’t say that I’ve never experienced it in my family. But on the whole, I’d say my family dynamic was about as warm as the Autumn breeze. Man, that warmth she mentioned sounded pretty nice…

***

After fighting off another episode of headache and vertigo, I woke up in the barrack bunk bed after that blast-in-the-past dream. Oh, what I would give to go back in time. Not that I was ungrateful for this particular second chance, but I wished I was in a time-rewinding reincarnation novel instead of a traditional isekai/transmigration one.

Of course, I also checked to see if I was given any OP powers, any OP cultivations, or any OP system. Sadly, I got jack squat. The only “power” I’d been blessed with is having photographic memories of my previous life and the life of the poor boy who died before I took over his body (I called this power <<Perfect Recall>>. As far as heroic isekai power goes, it was definitely in contention for “worst ever”. And this is coming from the guy who reads trashy isekai novels on the company toilet every day. Forget hard mode- I’m on the ‘Death March’ difficulty.

Considering my already-great memory (thanks to years of mnemonic training my tiger mom made me do as a kid), having this <<Perfect Recall>> was an OK upgrade at best. In fact, having detailed memories of this poor orphan beggar was actually more of a curse than blessing. If I had to go through another memory of him fighting with other starving orphans over a piece of a moldy fruit in a back alley, I’d lose my damn mind.

I got up from my bunk bed and cleaned it according to the regulations. Like most armies, cleanliness and discipline were strictly enforced. I’ve already seen 4 draftees whipped half to death for forgetting to make their bed or stealing a loaf of bread. Fact of the matter was: We were nobodies with no rights and our superiors had itchy whip-hands. For now, I’d plan on toeing the line until I figured things out. The last thing I wanted to do was expose my isekai status by sticking out like a sore thumb.

Fortunately for me, this kid didn’t have any surviving close friends and family who could realize that somebody took over his body, so my isekai cover was airtight. In fact, the kid was an orphan for as long as he could remember, and his only friend was killed last winter when they ran into a drunk noble who happened to be in a foul mood (That was a particularly gruesome memory to relive. Hell, the kid barely escaped with his life by hiding in a pile of garbage as a noble in Knight armor drunkenly rampaged through the alleyway). So as long as I kept to myself until I learned more about this new world, I should be fine.

I did wonder: was I able to converse and read in this Imperial Common language because I had access to his memories? Or was there some other magic at work here? My theory was that my fluency of Imperial Common was based on the kid’s memories since there were lots of gaps in knowledge in reading comprehension, which made sense since he was unlikely to be educated.

Back to my main problem. How the hell was this “power” I’ve received supposed to compete with rich brats with decked out magic armors? Because let’s face it, with my luck, I was gonna have to fight against one of those cocky motherfuckers down the road over some comically stupid reason. The priority for now was for me to blend in and keep my head do-

“Excuse me, are you my bunkmate?” A timid yet polite voice snapped me out of my reverie. Jeez, from the outside, I must’ve looked like some idiot staring at my bunk bed. I turned around and saw a boy around my age. He has dark brown skin and light brown curly hair. He appeared to be a bit shorter than me, and his smaller stature was reflected in the passive vibe he’s giving me.

“Uhhh… yeah. I am.” I stammered.

“Great! My name is Roshan.” The boy slightly bowed and introduced himself.

“Rummy.” I curtly replied. I’m here to survive, not make friends. So hopefully he gets the message and maintains a friendly distance.

“Wow! That’s such an interesting name! I think we’ll be great bunkmates and friends!” He cheerfully smiled at me. He’s one of those types of perpetually cheerful guys huh… But once I keep my distance for long enough, he should eventually get the message.

“Sure. Anyways, I’d like the top bunk if you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind at all! It’s all yours, friend!” He began to unpack some of his stuff near the bottom bunk. Roshan then turned to me and asked, “So where’s your stuff?”

“Don’t have any. Just some broke-ass peasant.” Well, if the fact that I’m some flea-ridden orphan who survived by begging and stealing doesn’t deter him, then I don’t know what will.

“Oh I see.” His cheerfulness slightly dimmed for a second. “Don’t worry, friend Rummy. My dad is a clerk here, and he tells me many stories of poor people making it big in the Legion. I’m sure you can make it big, just like them!” And that cheerfulness shot right back up.

Wait, hold on. If his dad was a clerk, then he probably knew a lot of information about the Legion and the world in general (on top of having the ability to read and write). This could be beneficial: sidekicks who can help explain the mechanics of the new world were always in demand in isekai stories. I could do without the happy-go-lucky attitude though...

“Are you always this positive and optimistic?”

“Yup! What’s the point of being negative and sad?” He innocently asked.

“So it doesn’t hurt when this shitty world reminds you how shitty it is.” I drily retorted.

“Well, I don’t think it’s that bad out there. Besides, as long as you’re alive, you can turn anything around!” He smiled at me and gave me a big thumbs up.

Sigh… I could feel another headache coming on.

***

Despite his annoyingly positive attitude, Roshan really helped out with my knowledge gap in the 1 week we’d known each other. Thanks to him, I learned the name of the city I’m in- Carnwennan. It was a fortress city on the western frontier of the Empire, roughly 2-3 weeks on horseback from Clarent, the nearest major city. Traveling to Caliburn, the Imperial capital, took months on horseback. So fortunately, my isekai spawn point was in the boonies and far, far away from the Imperial big shots. Who knows, I might go my entire 2nd life without having to interact with any of those assholes.

I’d also discovered the reason why that poor kid landed ass-first in the rum cart on that fateful day. Every spring, every boy around the age of 15 was drafted to serve a tour of duty “for 3 winters” (so roughly 3 years) at the nearest Imperial Legion. This includes the nobles and the beggars.

Sounds egalitarian right? Yes, but a “tournament” was held for all the draftees, where the “winners” became official Squires in some Knight academy and got exempted from service. That was why all the beggars willingly swung their shitty swords at magically-armored opponents they had no shot of beating. Becoming an Imperial Knight was a one-way ticket to a good life. But it was all a fucking scam- this was always meant to be a “get-out-through-the-backdoor” loophole for the rich and powerful.

Reminds me of my boss getting his job solely because his uncle was on the Board of Directors. Well, guess some things were true no matter what world I was in. Fuck, even briefly thinking about those entitled assholes pissed me off to no end.

Anyways, for the rest of us plebes, we had to report to the nearest Imperial Legion, which in my case would be the 626th Imperial Ranger Legion. The 626th primarily functions as a border patrol unit that protects the settlements around Carnwennan from wild mana-beast attacks and demihuman raids. Its 5000 men were divided into 5 cohorts, with each cohort having roughly 1000 men. There were 3 Ranger Cohorts (that patrol the Western Wilderness), 1 Reserve Cohort (that garrisons the castle and watchtowers), and 1 Auxiliary cohort (for logistical and material support; used only for emergencies).

Roshan also told me that the Western Wilderness is a huge expanse of forest and mountains west of Carnwennan. It is a highly dangerous forest loaded with various species of vicious beasts (bears, wolves, boars, etc) and cunning demihumans (Elves, goblins, and ogres). The plantlife there also doesn't lose out in terms of lethality. Plenty of savvy veterans had died gruesome deaths because they accidentally ate the wrong berries.

Shit, that sounded dangerous as fuck! Looks like I’m gonna need tons of mana if I were to survive my 3 years here. Oh wait, what if I’d started off with little or no mana? That was a common cultivation genre trope, right?

“Hey Roshan, has anybody ever boosted their innate mana in the history of the Empire? Maybe the Imperial family?” I asked Roshan as we stood in line in the castle courtyard to get our innate mana measured.

“Nope. As the saying goes, “What you get at your birth is what you end up with at your death.” But since their innate mana can’t be lower than their weaker parent’s, the Imperial Family never had to worry about low innate mana.” Roshan helpfully explained.

Great, another advantage for the rich and powerful. After all, they can afford to shop for spouses with high innate mana to guarantee their child is born with at least above-average innate mana.

On top of that, I couldn’t just find a rare herb or cultivation pill to boost my innate mana if this kid wasn’t born with a lot. Sigh, the difficulty level of this isekai just keeps increasing. Well, I hoped this kid's parents had decent innate mana, or I’m going to be catnip for all the young masters and asshole bullies out here.

As we take another step forward in the line, I ask another question. “So how do they measure innate mana? What’s a good amount?”

“They have a tool for that. There’s 10 star-shaped gems on it, and depending on how many stars you can light up when you focus, that’s how much innate mana you have. The average man has 5 stars. Most people have 4-6 stars. 7 stars are quite rare. They usually get sent to Mage Academies instead. As for 8 stars or more- that is the realm of Paladins and Archmages.”

Interesting. Maybe the isekai god(s) were nice and gave me a body that was exceptionally talented? I should ask about the power scaling of this whole thing.

“I see. What does each star mean?”

“Each star means you have 10 times the innate mana as the previous one. So 6 star talents have 10 times the mana of a 5 star, and 5 star talents have 10 times the mana of 4 stars.”

Yeah, I can see why the nobles in this world were so arrogant. With the massive gulf in power, even if 100 peasants banded together to take down 1 noble who forgot his armor at home, the sheer difference in magic would result in a one-sided curbstomp of all those peasants.

“So do you know how many stars you have?”

“Oh yeah, dad had me measured last week. I’ve got 4 stars. The average man has about 10 times my innate mana. But no worries! 4 stars meant that I had just enough mana for a couple of beginner-level spells, so it’s all good!” Jeez, Roshan’s optimism was unbeatable.

The examiner yelled. “Next!”

Roshan walked up to the examiner and held an obsidian-colored sphere the size of a fist in his hands. As he concentrated, I could see one, two, three, and four stars light up in a brownish glow on the sphere.

“Roshan of Carnwennan, a 4 star talent with earth elemental affinity.” The examiner announced it to the secretary, who then wrote it down in the draftee roster.

“Next!”

I walked up to the examiner and took the sphere. I focused intensely on it and squeezed it. Come on, isekai god(s), don’t send me over here just to be some mana-less bitchboy for 30 bloody chapters until some wonky plot device kicks off. Give me something to work with from the start!

I saw one, two, three, four stars glowing, but in a translucent manner. Ok, good start! At least I wasn’t completely trash. I concentrated some more, channeling all of my nervous energy into that blasted sphere. Come on innate mana! Get me 8 stars so daddy could be an Archmage!

5 stars! 6 stars! The 7th star flickered just for a moment before dimming. I tried and tried to get it to glow, but after 5 long seconds, the examiner took the sphere from my hand and announced. “Rummy of Carnwennan, a 6 star talent with air elemental affinity.”

“Next!”

Fuck! I was so close! I really shouldn’t complain about having above-average innate mana, but I was right there! I was later informed that if I had a higher innate mana grade, I would’ve gotten a shot at Hogwarts an Imperial Mage Academy. Sigh, curse my slightly above average innate mana!!! Looks like I wasn’t special enough to escape the grim fate of a commoner in an Era of Knights. Dammit, I was really hoping to be an Archmage in this life. Unfortunately, It doesn’t look like it’s fated to go that way.

This world sucked donkey balls if you weren’t born rich or born talented. So if I didn't have a conventional path to a good life, I should try the unconventional way. While the obvious solution to my power-up issue was to use my modern knowledge to make guns and explosives, there were a couple major issues with that:

I was a broke-ass peasant. How the heck could I raise the funds to develop this world’s first firearm without picking up unwanted attention?

Even by some miracle I pulled this off, I had to be super-discreet about having firearms. If I ever shoot anybody in front of witnesses, there would be a manhunt for me and my loudass gun, and I seriously doubt I could take on all comers with just 1 gun and no logistical support for said gun.

I could seek noble backing, but that noble would want me to transfer my know-how. And I estimated that there was a 50-50 chance I’d be dead in a ditch after I finished teaching his smiths how to make a rifle. After all, it wouldn’t be the first time the people in charge used me up for all I was worth and discarded me at their convenience.

So I leaned against using my modern knowledge, at least for now. Having a gun wouldn’t make me invincible- human history had shown that ignorance was a far more efficient killer than any particular gun. I simply didn’t have enough facts about this brave new world to commit to any particular path. Fortunately, I saw this draft as an opportunity to learn and plan (not to mention the free food for the next 3 years~).

Roshan was visibly excited for me. “Wow, 6 stars! Good for you, friend Rummy! I’m so glad we’re friends. Since you have 100 times my mana, you can totally back me up when I run out!” Roshan warmly congratulates me, with no hint of jealousy nor resentment in his eyes. Man, this guy is too pure for this fucked up world.

“Oh yeah, what did that guy mean when he said elemental affinity? I thought we could cast any spell as long as we’re holding the right mana crystal and have enough mana in reserve.”

“That’s right! So you were listening to my explanations, friend Rummy!” He beamed a smile at me. “Elemental affinity simply allows somebody to cast spells of that element at half the mana cost.”

Ok, so I’m twice as efficient casting air elemental spells versus the other elements. That’s good. I was hoping for a more exotic element, but I’ve watched enough Avatar to know what you can do with air elemental magic. It’s a pretty versatile and deadly element, that’s for sure. Besides, I can still use the other elemental spells without burning out my reserve thanks to the above-average innate mana I have.

“Thanks for explaining. So, what cohort do you think you'll end up in?”

“My dad will cash in his favors and get me to the Reserve Cohort or the Auxiliary Cohort. Something safe and easy. I’ll probably end up as a clerk like my dad, so I just need to do the bare minimum.”

That made sense. It must be nice having dear ol’ dad looking out for you from the clerk’s office. This guy just needs to put in minimal work, and he’ll be set with a decent career for life after his 3 years are up.

“How about you, friend, Rummy? No promises, but I can try to get you in the Auxiliary Cohort if I ask my dad.” Roshan kindly offered.

That was indeed a nice offer. I’ve thought about Mike’s advice about trying to get into the Auxiliary Cohort. Those guys got to stay in the castle most of the time; only fighting in emergencies. As a result, most of them tend to survive their tour. So his advice was definitely sound if the goal was to just survive in this world.

After how my 1st life ended, “just surviving” was the last thing I wanted. For my 2nd life, I wanted to chase my dream on my own terms, not some rich asshole’s. To do that, I needed to be able to fight the tough battles and win them all. If I die, well, at least I’d die on my terms doing what I truly wanted to do.

“No thanks, Roshan. I appreciate the gesture, but I’m actually really interested in the Wilds. I think I can learn alot as a Ranger in these next 3 years.” I replied.

One of the greatest regrets of my 1st life was not having that large warm family that Wendy always loved to have. So for my 2nd life, I should pursue that warmth. My dream for this life was to build a harem of beautiful wives and have lots of children in a big loving family. I wanted to die with all of their love and warmth surrounding me as I took my final breath in this foreign world.

True, a small part of me just wanted to live out my murderhobo fantasy and be some crimson avenger type punisher of wicked noblemen (and obviously looting them afterwards). Or be some suave adventurer that casually humped his way across the world a la Yun Che. But this path of warmth felt more right to me. I wasn’t some teenage edgelord with social anxiety that saw any genuine emotional connection as “weakness”, nor am I some weirdo perv obsessed with collecting virginities, so why act like one?

After all, some supernatural force managed to grant me a second chance in life like hundreds of isekai novel protagonists before me- I might as well embrace the cliché and see what the harem hype was all about (Honestly, being married to multiple women sounded like a crap-ton of work based on my previous dating experience, but it also sounded like a crap-ton of fun~).

And that was why I’d embraced my Ranger training instead of running away from it. I was thankfully spawned in the frontier. Being a Ranger was a great opportunity to learn about the Western Wilderness and see how feasible it would be to live independently in the Wild and not under the yoke of tyranny. I would be giving up some conveniences if I were to move out of the city, but it could be worth it if I could somehow guarantee my long-term freedom and security (things I’d need if I wanted to build a harem life). I hated shitting in the woods, but if it meant avoiding the asshole nobles and their brats, then it was a small price to pay~

Note to self: gotta build an indoor plumbing system when I actually get my dream harem...

***

Basic training had been surprisingly tough on me for the last 3 months. Fun fact: there’s a world of difference between reenacting what soldiers did and actually being a soldier. My sword fighting skills were... subpar to say the least. But at least I was somewhat decent with a spear thanks to my previous experience running bayonet drills with my fellow reenactors.

The quartermasters allowed us to pick which weapon to be issued since they can’t afford to give us both, so I naturally picked the iron-tipped spear over the single-bladed arming sword.

I looked forward to the second part of basic training- archery. I knew I’d do better as a ranged fighter. At least, that was what I kept telling myself as me, Roshan, and my fellow draftees were ordered to report to the training ground.

About 5 minutes after we assembled, an important-looking officer guy with a pretentiously well-groomed mustache and wavy blond hair approached the training ground. He led a 10 x 10 column of Imperial Rangers to the stage, ordered them to halt, and walked up the stage. The Rangers had various mismatched leather armors and braces strapped to them under a green cloak with brown accents. The scabbards and bows that each Ranger carried look worn, but sturdy. Every single one of them had the look of a battle-hardened veteran.

His Knight armor suddenly emitted a faint yellow glow, and the officer guy cleared his throat with a booming voice. The training ground immediately fell silent.

Wow! These guys had a magic-based analog for a megaphone! Man, I wished I could have an opportunity to take that armor apart and study it.

“Good morning, future bear shit. I am Legate Fabius of House Accolon, and I’m the commanding officer of the 2nd Cohort of the 626th Imperial Ranger Legion. I am also the man in charge of your basic training.”

“I have watched you train for the past 3 moons. And as a man of the Empire, I feel ashamed and embarrassed! All I see before me are a bunch of lazy and undisciplined sissies completely unfit for combat. You sorry lots have nothing in common with the proud Imperial Rangers lined up in front of you.”

His booming criticism echoed throughout the training ground. All of the draftees had their eyes glued to the ground, as if looking for spare change. I, on the other hand, kept focusing on his armor and wondered how they managed to enhance his speaking volume. Man, I gotta learn magical engineering soon...

“But fret not- I still have another 3 moons. And I shall intensify your training! Tea time is over! I guarantee that by the time we’re done with you, you will become model soldiers for His Majesty, or you’ll die trying.”

“What you useless idiots need to understand is how little your lives mean to me. This year, they dumped about 400 of you losers onto my lap. If I could trade all of your worthless lives in exchange for even just 10 real Rangers, I would gladly take that trade with a smile on my face!”

“Over the next 3 moons, you will learn basic archery, beast tracking, and wilderness survival. You will know it all by heart, or the Western Wilderness will claim your pitiful life. Either result is fine with me since I hate wasting my rations on useless soldiers.”

“I’m sure you’ve all heard stories of the savage Wild out there- stories of unstoppable beasts shredding armor like it’s fine silk, or stories about packs of wolves turning an entire squad of veterans into a dinner feast. Let me properly warn you- these stories you’ve heard, if nothing else, have been watered down.”

The draftees all had a “I’m gonna shit my pants” look. Hell, even I started to rethink my plan. How fucking bad was it out there?!?

“Centurion Keith!”

A bald, well-built man with relatively darker complexions stepped forward out of the line and gave a textbook Imperial salute with his right fist pounding his left shoulder as his right heel slammed down.

“Ser!”

The Legate pointed at my group. “Take this batch of weaklings and see if you can make real soldiers out of them.”

“Ser! Yes, Ser!” The baldie saluted again and looked at my group with a vicious grin on his face.

“Alright you maggots! Welcome to hell!”

Everyone (except Roshan) in my group had fear in their eyes. Roshan’s positivity and optimism was pretty hardy, but would it hold against military-grade putdowns? Only time would tell.