The cold was the first thing he felt.
It wasn't just cold; it was a malicious, biting frost that gnawed right through the skin and into the marrow of his bones.
"Damn it... did the heater in the dorm room explode?"
Aryan groaned, trying to pull his blanket tighter, but his fingers grasped only rough, frozen fur. He forced his heavy eyelids open.
He wasn't in his university dorm room. He wasn't surrounded by his engineering textbooks or his laptop.
He was standing on the edge of a dilapidated stone wall, overlooking a world of endless white. Snow. Miles and miles of brutal, unforgiving snow. The wind howled like a dying beast, tearing at the tattered wolf-skin cloak wrapped around his shoulders.
Suddenly, a sharp pain shot through his skull. Memories that didn't belong to him flooded his brain like a torrent of icy water.
The Kingdom of Oland.
The Northern Wasteland.
Rian Von Valdene.
"I... transmogrified?" Aryan gasped, clutching his head. "I became Rian? The third son of the Duke? The one who was exiled?"
He looked down at his hands. They were pale, slender, and calloused from the cold—not the hands of a mechanical engineering student, but the hands of a discarded noble.
The original owner of this body, Rian, had been banished here by his stepmother and older brother under the pretense of "expanding the territory." In reality, it was a death sentence. This place, Fort Blackiron, was a graveyard. No crops grew here. No trade caravans came here.
"My Lord!"
A raspy voice broke his train of thought.
Rian turned to see an old man limping towards him. It was old Butler Hance, his face red from the cold, his beard covered in frost.
"My Lord, please come inside," Hance pleaded, his voice trembling. "The wind is picking up. And... and we only have enough firewood for two more days. If we don't ration it..."
Rian looked at the old man. Hance was the only one who had followed him to this hell. The guards were demoralized, the food was rotting, and the walls were crumbling.
'I'm going to die,' Rian analyzed the situation with cold, engineering logic. 'Hypothermia or starvation. Probability: 99%.'
He didn't know magic. He didn't have a sword aura. He was just a modern student in a fragile body.
He looked at the desolate snowy plains and sighed. "Is this how it ends? Before I even build my first machine?"
Just as despair began to settle in his chest, a mechanical sound rang out—crisp and clear, cutting through the howling wind.
[DING!]
[System Activating...]
[Host Soul bound successfully.]
[The 'Daily Intelligence System' is now online.]
Rian froze. A translucent blue screen materialized in front of his retina. It wasn't a game store. It wasn't a status panel with strength or agility stats.
It was a simple list of text.
[Daily Intelligence Report - Day 1]
[1. Resource Info]
Three miles to the west, in the 'Dead Man's Gully', the black stones exposed by the wind are not cursed rocks. They are high-quality Anthracite Coal. The reserve is estimated at 50,000 tons.
[2. Personnel Info]
Your Head Knight, Captain Thorne, is planning to defect tonight. He has stolen the last bag of gold coins and plans to flee to the neighboring Baron's territory at midnight.
[3. Weather Info]
A 'White Disaster' (Blizzard) is forming in the north. It will hit the fort in exactly 48 hours. The temperature will drop to -50°C. Anyone without shelter and heat will die.
[4. Secret Info]
The old statue in the castle basement is not a decoration. There is a hollow compartment inside the sword hilt containing a map to a hidden iron mine.
Rian stared at the screen, his heartbeat accelerating. The cold wind didn't feel so biting anymore.
"Coal..." he whispered, his eyes gleaming with a frantic light.
The locals thought the black rocks were cursed because they produced black smoke when burned incorrectly. But to a modern engineer? Coal was energy. Coal was heat. Coal was the father of the Industrial Revolution.
And Captain Thorne... the traitor.
Rian looked at the shivering old butler. "Hance."
"Yes, My Lord?"
Rian's posture straightened. The fear in his eyes vanished, replaced by the calculating coldness of a man who suddenly held all the cards.
"Gather the remaining guards. Not Thorne. Just the ones who are loyal to you."
"My... My Lord?" Hance was confused by the sudden change in tone. "What are we doing?"
Rian smiled, a sharp, dangerous smile that didn't belong on the face of a naive noble.
"We are going hunting," Rian said, looking at the blue screen. "First, we catch a rat. Then... we
ignite the fires of industry."
End of Chapter 1