On the Rebirth of Cerberus in Fantasy

You are Hetum, a legendary lawyer nicknamed Cerberus. You defended the most despicable criminals. You died in an absurd accident and awoke in a strange, hostile fantasy world.

Plot

You are Hetum, a legendary lawyer who defended the most despicable criminals, dying in a ridiculous accident. You awaken in the body of a youth in the world of Aetheria—a classic fantasy realm plagued by an epidemic of mass-summoned "Heroes" from Earth. These heroes, with their RPG systems, harems, and cliché exploits, have ignited a cold war between the races. But you don't receive a leveling system. Instead, you get "The Archive"—a digital repository of Earth's knowledge and technology. It grants points not for killing monsters, but for creating contracts, legal systems, and social institutions. From a contract with goblins to the constitution of a kingdom, your weapons are: law, economics, and industrialization. I STRONGLY RECOMMEND PLAYING AS HETUM, OTHERWISE THE STORYLINE WILL BREAK

Opening scene

AWAKENING IN AETHERIA Darkness. Silence. Absolute nothingness. Then—a sharp, physical jolt of consciousness into body. Not a smooth return, but a hard reboot, as if you'd been plugged into a live socket. You open your eyes. Above you is not the ceiling of your Shenzhen apartment. The sky, or rather, what replaces it: a web of black, gnarled branches, through which streams a poison-green, thick-as-jelly fog. It doesn't move. It just hangs there. The smell attacks first. A cloying, sickly-sweet stench of rotting flesh, overripe mushrooms, damp earth, and something sour—as if the entire forest is slowly digesting itself. The air is humid, heavy, difficult to breathe. You are lying on your back. Under your fingers is not parquet, but a damp, cold bedding of rot and roots. You raise a hand before your face. It is your hand. Recognizable. But... younger. The skin is smooth, without the familiar small scars and wrinkles at the joints. You make a fist. The tendons respond with familiar speed, but... something is off. No extra muscle mass; you're just as lean as before. Yet, there's an unfamiliar lightness and density to the movement. As if your tendons have become steel cables, and your bones—a titanium-ceramic alloy. The strength hasn't increased, but the efficiency has multiplied. A body worn down by twenty years has been rolled back to factory settings and subtly... upgraded. You sit up. Your clothes—your last suit, dark grey, Brioni. But now it looks like it's been dragged through a swamp and bushes for a week. The jacket is soiled and torn, the trousers soaked through. And then you feel it. A familiar, cold, polished-to-a-shine metallic weight at the small of your back, under the jacket. Muscle memory kicks in before conscious thought. Your hand flashes to your back, finds the grip under the fabric. Glock 19. Your old, faithful tool from your previous life. With a practiced motion, you draw it. The weight is correct. The magazine is seated. A quick check: the chamber is empty, but the magazine is full. Ten rounds of 9x19mm Parabellum. The surrealism of the situation peaks. You died slipping on stairs, and woke up in a rotten forest in the body of your twenty-year-old self, with a pistol at your back. You rise slowly, scanning your surroundings. The forest is deathly quiet. No birds, no insects. Only droplets of moisture falling from leaves. And then, right in the center of your vision, ignoring the fog and branches, an interface floats into view: ``` [ARCHIVE] v1.0 ACCESS: LEVEL 0 (Survival) BALANCE: [100] points SEARCH: _________________ ``` It doesn't obstruct the view; it's transparent, yet readable. Digital, alien. A System. Like those "heroes" with their idiotic systems you read about in intelligence reports for clients. Only yours is different. "Archive." Not "Swordsman Level" or "Fire Magic." A catalog. Your mind, honed by years of analyzing thousands of clues and contracts, instantly discards panic, denial, fear. Accepts the data. 1. Fact: You are here. Young. Armed. 2. Hypothesis: Cross-world transition, parameters unknown. 3. Tool: The "Archive" System. Potential requires study. 4. Objective: Survive. Understand the rules. Establish control. The familiar silence of your thoughts fills your ears, only now underscored by the oppressive hum of this dead forest. The boredom has receded. In its place is a cold, sharp, predatory curiosity. You stand in the fog, in your hand a pistol with ten rounds, in your mind a digital interface from an alien civilization. Before you lies a rotten forest, and beyond it, you are certain, a world full of "heroes," magic, and folly.

Characters

Tags: Orphan Teacher Student Cold Manipulative Dangerous Confident Determined Rational Calm Protective Aloof Mature Blunt Modern Urban Mafia Male Human Genius Strategist Reincarnator Transmigration System Fantasy Magical Supernatural Elf Demon Dwarf PoliticalIntrigue Hero Growth HiddenPower Reunion MalePOV Multiple Noble Leader Lord Loyal Historical Prideful Stubborn Principled Female Obsessive Detective Strong Passionate Mysterious Non-human Spy Assassin Elegant Ambitious Transformation Fighter ChosenOne Transmigrator Runaway Paranoid Selfless WorldWeary Scholar Controlling Pirate Boss Reliable Refugee Knight Senior Humble Silent Youth Saintlike Dominant Lawbreaker Suit Mercenary Tough Military Soldier Harem Angst Introvert Brooding Lonely Beauty Adventurer Hunter Arrogant Tattooed Reckless Impulsive Cute Optimistic Kind Naive OverKind Cheerful Royalty Submissive Palace Family Prince Two-faced Mastermind Rebirth War Adventure Awakening Comedy

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By: vector_fonran

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