I've been transported into a Western fantasy game, and my dad wants me to marry my sister.

Mel Carlos awoke to the clanging of chains.

Her beautiful golden hair had begun to tangle, and her once handsome face was now covered in mud.

His throat was so dry it felt like it was going to crack, and his wrists and ankles were chafed raw by the rough iron shackles.

He lay in the crowded slave wagon, surrounded by people like him—emaciated peasants, orcs with despairing expressions, and even a beautiful young elf who looked only thirteen or fourteen years old, though her eyes had long since become empty.

The caged cart was moving along the bumpy forest road, with five horse-riding slave hunters ahead, one of whom was a senior warrior—a bald, burly man with a scar on his face.

They were talking and laughing loudly.

"This batch is quite good; we've captured not only elves and orcs, but also some good-looking human refugees."

The scarred man glanced back at Mel, "Such a handsome young man, the old men will like him."

"It's a pity it's a man; it would be worth more if it were a woman," another team member spat.

"No, no, no, some nobles who have a taste for this are willing to pay even more," the scarred bald man retorted.

Mel closed his eyes, and once again the naked, wounded corpses of his mother and sister appeared before him.

He clenched his teeth, the taste of rust filling his mouth—it was blood from his own bitten lip.

Hatred coiled around my heart like a venomous snake.

But what was even stronger than hatred was a feeling of powerlessness.

Since her father died, and with the loss of his hunting earnings, the three acres of meager land were simply not enough to support the family of three. As a result, her mother took a job as a maid in a noble household.

When they learned that their mother had successfully applied for the job, all three members of the family were excited.

but.

the next day.

The mother, who had gone to the nobleman's house, did not return all night, so the older sister had no choice but to take Mel to look for her.

result.

The nobleman saw his and his sister's appearances.

Even she and her sister had taken a liking to him and wanted to take him as their slave.

In order to escape, he had to separate from his sister.

Although Mel Carlos managed to escape, he became disoriented in the jungle.

When Mel returned to that place, he found the naked, wounded, and lifeless bodies of his mother and sister in the mass grave.

Because other nobles were arriving, this nobleman organized a banquet.

Her sister and mother, being a beautiful mother and daughter, attracted the great interest of many nobles, and they were thus tortured to death by these nobles.

Damn nobles!

In the eyes of these nobles, commoners were like domestic animals, not equals at all, and killing one or two commoners was a trivial matter.

Mercaros hated the nobility; his hatred nearly consumed him.

But then came a deep sense of powerlessness.

He simply doesn't have the power to take revenge; if he rashly seeks revenge, he'll only be walking into the lion's den.

The nobles monopolized all extraordinary resources, and commoners had no way to advance to the extraordinary level. Even if they accidentally discovered extraordinary resources, they would be taken away by the nobles.

even.

After it was taken away.

They would also use the pretext of spying on the extraordinary to execute this person by burning at the stake.

A sense of powerlessness overwhelmed him, but the legends circulating in the village gave him a glimmer of hope.

Legend has it that a powerful being once hid his legacy within the forest.

Driven by revenge, Mel will not give up even the slightest hope.

He entered the forest.

By a stroke of luck, after entering the forest, Mel experienced a sudden enlightenment.

He learned from the methods by which wild beasts, monsters, and all things in the forest absorb elements, and actually created his own breathing technique.

He spent a month training in the forest, perfecting his breathing technique by imitating the breathing of wild beasts and monsters, and forcefully pushing his aura from that of an ordinary person to the threshold of a novice warrior.

He thought he finally had a chance for revenge.

Then just yesterday, he encountered this slave-catching team.

The scarred man didn't even dismount; with a casual wave of his hand, a burst of fighting spirit sent him flying, crashing into two trees and breaking them.

The gap is too big, as big as an insurmountable chasm.

"The nobility monopolized everything..."

"Cultivation techniques, potions, monster cores... all paths to becoming stronger have been blocked off by high walls. Commoners? Commoners are like livestock, fattened up and slaughtered, leanened up and discarded."

Mel recalled his father's drunken mutterings.

The cage truck suddenly stopped.

"Let's camp here tonight!"

"We'll be at the 'Red Fort' by noon tomorrow, so you all better behave yourselves!"

"The scarred man shouted."

As night fell, the slave-catching team lit a campfire.

Mel and the other slaves were tied to large trees at the edge of the camp, each given only half a piece of black bread as hard as a rock and a bowl of murky vegetable soup.

The scarred man and his team sat around the campfire, roasting a wild deer, the fat dripping into the fire and sizzling.

"I heard something happened in the south," a younger team member said in a low voice.

"What could possibly happen? Another peasant uprising?" The scarred man tore off a large piece of venison, his mouth dripping with oil.

"It's not just a riot... I heard some rumors in the tavern in Greyhoof Town a few days ago."

"They say some kind of prophet has appeared in the forest and is spreading strange rumors."

The young players lowered their voices.

Mel's ears perked up.

"Prophet? What are those charlatans in the church up to now?" another team member scoffed.

"No, they're not from the Church of the Seven Gods," the young team member shook his head.

"Rumor has it that he was a true prophet, able to foresee the future and bring about bountiful harvests."

"Someone spotted an elven druid in a village on the edge of the forest!"

"They healed the farmers, taught them new farming methods, and said something like... 'When the two moons are in the same sky, the prophet will bring endless abundance.'"

They remained silent by the campfire for a moment.

"Elves? Aren't they always hiding deep in the forest?" The scarred man frowned.

"That's why it's strange!"

"And the rumor goes that the prophet doesn't favor any race; he wants to establish... uh, what's it called again?"

"right."

"In a world of universal harmony, there would be no distinction between nobles and commoners; everyone would have food to eat and clothes to wear..."

"Bullshit!" The scarred man stood up abruptly and threw the deer bone into the fire.

"No distinction between nobles and commoners? Then who will farm? Who will fight? Who will serve the masters? You actually believe this nonsense?"

The young player shrank back, not daring to say anything more.

But Mel's heart started racing.

Two moons in the same sky... boundless abundance... universal harmony...

Each word was like a spark, falling into his long-parched heart.

"Young man, are you interested?"

Mel looked up and saw a middle-aged man in his forties who said his name was Old Jack.

He was blind in one eye, had a hideous scar running diagonally from his forehead to his chin, and was missing three fingers on his left hand.

But strangely, his eyes were calm, even carrying a sense of detachment that seemed to have seen through everything.

Mel remained silent, unwilling to speak.

"If you don't want to talk about it, then forget it."

"But kid, I advise you to keep your hatred hidden a little deeper."

"The slave-catching teams here love to torture people whose eyes are filled with hatred—they find it more interesting."

Old Jack laughed, revealing a set of yellow teeth.

Mel looked up abruptly: "How did you know...?"

"How would I know you hate?" Old Jack pointed to his eyes.

"I've lived this long enough to see through many things."

That night, after the other slaves had fallen asleep from exhaustion, old Jack quietly moved next to Mel.

"Do you want to escape?" His voice was so low it was almost a whisper.

Mel's heart skipped a beat.

"Don't get excited, kid."

"I've been observing you for quite some time. You're different from them. You're not one to accept your fate, but hatred alone isn't enough; you need hope."

Old Jack pressed down on his shoulder.

"Hope? In this place?" Mel said bitterly.

Old Jack pulled a small, dirty piece of cloth from his pocket and carefully unfolded it.

A few lines of writing were made on the cloth in charcoal ash; the handwriting was crooked but still legible:

When two moons appear in the same sky.

The ancient tree will proclaim the name of the prophet.

The prophet, who bears the enlightenment of all things, will bring boundless abundance to the hungry people.

He will eliminate the famine.

He will bring dawn.

He will lead you to build a brand new world.

He will share endless abundance with you.

......

Mel's eyes widened.

"This is……"

"Young man, I would like to invite you to join the Prophet's Cult. Would you be willing?"

"I'm willing." Despair in Mel's eyes was replaced by surprise, but a moment later by disappointment. "But how can we escape now?"

"It's alright."

Done.

Old Jack laughed.

He no longer concealed his aura.

It came to light.

Super-tier!!

What old Jack didn't know was that he was now saving an ordinary teenager.

He will grow up to be the strictest father among the nobles and the most loving father among the Prophet's sect.

He is also the future legendary swordsman.