The French Empire, Palace of Versailles
Clang!
A crisp metallic crash echoed through the grand hall as the silver tray in the Grand Marshal's hands hit the marble floor.
But her sharp, beautiful features were now painted with a mixture of shock and joy.
"Thank heavens! His Majesty is finally awake!"
"Someone, quickly! Inform Dr. Melina and Lord Winston at once!"
She spun around, her voice trembling with urgency, and ran off down the gilded corridor.
"…Your Majesty?"
Napoleon struggled to open his eyes, his head pounding with unbearable pain.
Blinding sunlight filtered in through the gap in the heavy velvet curtains, scattering warm golden light across the polished floor and his ornate bedding.
Wait… where the hell am I? Why am I in a palace?
His name used to be Nalion, a freshman at the History Department. Just a moment ago, he had been burning the midnight oil in his dorm room, hammering away at his final paper. So how did he suddenly end up in this strange place?
Still dazed and confused, Napoleon tried to take a look around—
But then, a tidal wave of unfamiliar memories crashed into his mind!
He clutched his throbbing head, groaning as fragment after fragment of another life surged forward.
Piece by piece, he managed to sort through the deluge of foreign memories.
So… he had transmigrated.
And not just into anyone, but into the Emperor of the French Empire?!
By all logic, this should've been a stroke of great fortune. He could live a life of absolute indulgence, stand at the pinnacle of power, and enjoy the seductive charm of noble ladies at his leisure.
But the cruel reality was… this emperor gig wasn't exactly as glorious as it sounded.
This so-called "French Empire" had absolutely nothing in common with the historical French Empire he studied—aside from the name.
This was the world of Eura, a vast continent more than ten times the size of Earth—at least based on what had already been charted. There were still many wild, unexplored regions where no man had ever set foot.
Even within the explored territories, there were countless nations—so many that they dotted the land like stars in the sky.
The "French Empire" was merely one of the more powerful players in a sea of billions of sovereign states.
Ten thousand years ago, the First Emperor, Napoleon Bonaparte, had founded the empire. Since then, House Bonaparte had ruled uninterrupted for 176 generations.
The body he now inhabited had the same name—Napoleon. Specifically, he was Napoleon XVI, the sixteenth emperor to bear that legendary name.
Unfortunately for him, this particular emperor had been born with a tragic fate.
He was the only heir of the previous monarch, but right after birth, it was discovered that he suffered from severe intellectual disability.
He didn't speak until he was five.
He didn't learn to write his own name until he was ten.
At the age of twelve, after the passing of his father, this hopeless heir was thrust onto the throne out of sheer necessity.
Even a fool could predict what would happen if someone like that took the reins of an empire.
With no more need for pretense, the various factions began openly carving up the last remaining resources of the French Empire, aiming to line their pockets before the inevitable collapse.
Napoleon XVI, dimwitted as he was, still had some sense of what was happening. He knew his ministers were corrupt, but he was too timid to confront them.
He was often bullied by the sons of other nobles—once, they even shredded his royal robes and turned them into a mockery of a dress.
And so, time crept on. Eventually, he reached his sixteenth birthday—the age of legal adulthood in the French Empire.
It was meant to be the start of his personal rule.
But to everyone's surprise, during the birthday celebration, he was knocked unconscious by a small pony and fell into a coma.
That coma lasted two full years—until today.
"…What a waste of human potential."
Napoleon's lips twitched with disbelief. But just as he was absorbing the ridiculousness of it all, his mind surfaced something far more shocking:
This world… had superpowers and magic!
Ordinary citizens lived at the very bottom of the hierarchy. To climb upward, they needed to first step into the Trainee Rank.
Beyond that came the ranks of:
Apprentice, Elite, Expert, Hero, and Master.
After Master, if one earned a title, they could continue to Grandmaster, Stellar, and Sage Rank.
And above them all—almost purely myth—was the God Rank.
On Eura Continent, power was everything.
The original Napoleon had been a Master Rank powerhouse, and it was by his might that he founded the empire.
To the common folk, an emperor was a sacred figure.
But in places like the Ordon Theocracy, where powerhouses roamed like wolves, a so-called emperor was just a useful puppet.
The Ordon Theocracy didn't just control the French Empire. It held sway over one-eighth of the entire continent.
It boasted dozens of Master Rank warriors. And its legendary Pope, cloaked in divine mystery, was rumored to have been granted the title of god by an actual deity.
With the Pope as its backbone, the Theocracy grew stronger each year, planting puppet rulers throughout the continent.
The French Empire was one such puppet.
On paper, it looked strong—massive population, rich resources, booming tax income.
But Napoleon now knew the brutal truth: 90% of the empire's resources and tax revenue were siphoned off by the Ordon Theocracy.
Of the remaining 10%, most was swallowed by corrupt officials.
By the time anything reached the imperial treasury, if 5% remained, it was considered a miracle.
And so the French Empire became a hollow shell:
Internally, factions plotted and schemed.
Externally, enemies circled like wolves.
And yet, the Theocracy had no intention of stepping in.
No—they were like vampires, draining the last drop of blood from their puppet before discarding it.
"So on paper, I'm the emperor… but in reality, I'm just a cosmic-level sucker?"
Napoleon clenched his jaw, irritated. His right hand groped the edge of the bed—until it touched something cold and hard.
It was the Scepter of the Empire, the symbol of supreme authority.
It had been carelessly tossed beside the bed for two years, gathering dust.
But the moment he gripped it, a warm current surged into his body, flooding through his limbs and bones.
At the same time, the fleur-de-lis insignia atop the scepter lit up, emitting a mysterious and deep golden glow.
The light faded in an instant, but the scepter's leaf shimmered with newfound luster.
And then—
A translucent interface appeared before his eyes.
[Emperor's Scepter: Activated]
[Current Level: 1]
[Current Emperor Points: 10]
[Current Available Troop: Elemental Assassin (1 point)]
Effect: Allows the Emperor to summon powerful soldiers. As the level increases, more troops and special units can be summoned.
Tip: 100 Emperor Points are needed to increase 1 level. Summoning soldiers consumes Emperor Points. Killing enemies replenishes them.
"…I just awakened a system??"
Napoleon's pupils shrank, his face twisting with disbelief.
Faced with a collapsing empire and no way forward, this was nothing short of a lifeline.
If he played his cards right…
Then it was time to make all those greedy parasites understand who the true king was.
But first—
Let's test the strength of this Elemental Assassin!
With determination gleaming in his eyes, Napoleon called out:
"Come forth—Elemental Assassin!"