The night had settled like a velvet curtain over the town. By the hearth, the embers flickered, shadows curling against the stone walls. I closed the book with a deliberate thud, letting its weight settle on my lap. Every word of the Church—every lie, chain, and poison—I absorbed, analyzing centuries of indoctrination.
At dinner, I turned to Gerreth, my childhood guardian, the old knight who had trained and protected him. He saw Leonard—but I saw through his eyes, noting every twitch, every trace of suspicion.
"Gerreth, tell me… how far does the Church's reach extend?" I asked, my voice calm, controlled.
Gerreth paused, spoon suspended mid-air. Years of battle and command had made him steady, formidable—but I could feel his wariness. "The Church holds power over nearly all known continents, my lord. Only the Duchy of Qamarra and the Free Cities of Atford remain untouched—small islands, loosely bound."
I nodded. "And the kingdoms?"
"All kingdoms follow the Church. The Divine Principality of Roch is ruled by the Pope—Clementus VIIth, the Resolute. He appoints the Church's head in every nation. Their army has… divine soldiers… some as strong as a hundred knights." Gerreth's voice wavered slightly at the thought, a crack in the armor of experience.
I chewed slowly, thinking: even living a hundred years, I could never truly bend minds hardened by centuries of faith. Even on Earth, Europe took centuries to shake off orthodox beliefs and embrace science. Here, in this world, if I can craft a religion of my own… I can control the people.
Kings rule the lands, but the mind follows faith. I want both.
Gerreth's eyes, sharp and seasoned, "Leonard appears calm, but there is a subtle danger, a shift that unsettles even me. I had raised Leonard, guarded him, trained him—and now he sensed the boy he knew had grown into a mind unlike any other."
"You speak… differently, my lord," Gerreth said. "Are you afraid of the Church? Or hiding something?"
I smiled faintly. "Fear is for the weak. I study the rules of power, not their enforcers."
Suspicion deepened in Gerreth's gaze. He had known Leonard since birth, watched him grow under his protection. Yet Allen's mind—silent, calculating, ruthless—made him uncertain. There is something hidden here. Something dangerous. Perhaps even… a witch.
Dinner passed in tense quiet. Later, a familiar presence stopped me: Natalia.
"Good evening," she said softly. Her eyes searched mine, probing beyond Leonard's body, though she could not know Allen's thoughts.
"Good evening," I replied, steady. Every word a mask, every glance measured. The conversation was awkward, but brief. She left quietly, leaving only the lingering tension.
At dawn, Oswin gathered the officials and skilled workers. Dew hung in the air, anticipation palpable.
"My lord," Oswin began, "we must discuss the road. It should link our town to the King's Highway that connects towns Staningt and Perston, and the mining areas. Trade must flow."
I nodded, Allen's mind calculating every step, every resource, every potential risk. "Yes. And more. We will build insulated houses, twenty in total, for shelter. They must survive winter and provide defense against demon beasts. Walls will come later; these houses will serve as bastions."
"Why houses, my lord? Not walls?" Oswin asked, brow furrowed.
"Walls require stone, time, and labor we cannot spare. Houses give warmth, safety, and can function as trading posts. With the food I purchased, we can employ most of the town in construction."
Gerreth's voice, steady and commanding, cut in: "Do you truly think this will work, my lord?"
I met his gaze. "It must. Resources are ready, the workforce is prepared. In two days, construction begins. Prepare the plans, Oswin. Nothing can stop this. Most of the people are free from farming and resources gathering."
Gerreth's eyes betrayed a mix of suspicion, awe, and respect. He had seen Leonard's body, but now he witnessed the mind within—calculated, patient, and deadly in its reasoning. The town would not just survive—it would thrive, shaped by Allen's vision inside Leonard's body.
Once the officials and skilled workers left, the room fell silent. I exhaled, letting the weight of responsibility settle on me. My work here was not yet done, but for now, I could step away.
With a single thought, the world shifted. The town, the roads, the workers—all faded as I returned to Earth, the transition seamless and instantaneous.
As Allen, I first completed what I could in this world. Opening the app, I checked the "[Ending Task]" menu. Leonard's body had carried me through many days of planning, construction, and careful observation. The progress bars slowly filled, a tangible measure of my influence.
I spent a week on Earth, free from obligations, using nights to strategize for the other world—a continent still nameless, though the Church insists their followers call it Aurethis, after their first pope. Even across worlds, superstition and tradition left their mark.
After the week, I focused my mind, and in a heartbeat, I was back in Leonard's body, seated in his cabinet. Morning light streamed through the high windows, dust motes drifting lazily in the beams.
Elias, the young knight, accompanied me as we roamed the town. We listened to complaints, suggestions, and requests from the townsfolk. I offered guidance on resource allocation, defense, and workflow, while Elias observed closely, learning from every interaction.
By midday, he was impressed—not only by the clarity of our plans but by how seamlessly the town began to thrive under subtle guidance.